Iddo found that the pilgrims' songs were not all directly about the Radiant City and its King. They sang about the beauties of the way, of the flowers the King had raised to cheer them, of the trees He had planted to give them shade, of the changing sky overhead, and the sweet-scented winds about them; of the stars and sun the King had created to give them light on the way, of the ever-moving sea, of which they often caught glimpses, of all the wonders of nature; they sang also of the beauty of love, of acts of heroism, of thoughts too deep for words, and when Iddo expressed some surprise at what she heard, Chisleu reminded her of the words in the Guide Book,
"'The works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein.'"
Iddo was much struck by noticing the great change in Chisleu, how his voice had softened, and his mind expanded, and how, instead of thinking that every one was in the wrong, he constantly confessed that he was in the wrong himself, and imputed good motives to people where others found it difficult to do so.
But every now and then the old enemies got the better of him; he would suddenly irritably interrupt the pilgrims in their songs, with the complaint that they were singing out of tune, or too fast for the newcomers, or had put the wrong tune to the words. And now and then his irritability would become infectious, so that he would suddenly awake to the fact that he had been the means of discord.
But whenever this happened he confessed his sin so humbly, that the enemy, who had done what he could to make him inconsistent, had to retreat, with the knowledge that Chisleu's quick confession of sin, instead of resulting in confusion and in making an occasion for other enemies to run in, had been the means of shaming some of the pilgrims who had given way, and had caused them to resist the enemy.
"Mr. Chisleu," said Iddo, "I want to learn to sing. Will you teach me?"
"Teach you! Nay, you must go to the King Himself for that. We can only sing when He teaches us."
When Iddo next met her mother she had learnt to sing, and her mother thought her voice the sweetest she had ever heard. She was not alone in her opinion. Many a one was cheered on his way to the Radiant City by the sound of it. Some who had fallen on the road, being hard pressed by the enemy, and the victims of Despondency or Despair, lifted up their heads, as Iddo's voice caught their ears, while others who were on the eve of wandering from the right path, resolutely turned away from the enemy who was tempting them. For Iddo sang of the wonderful love of the King, Who had died for them, and was even then watching them, and of the glory and brightness of the Radiant City to which they were travelling. And she sang moreover of the Coming of the King, to which she was looking forward now with ardent expectation. And the words she sang were these:—
"Thou art coming, oh my Saviour,
Thou art coming, oh my King,