“No, sir, not specially, but they were endowed by God with a marvellous flow of grace. You know the old proverb sir,—
‘Godly grace makes greatly glad,
It makes him sing who once was sad.’”
“And you believe that this ‘grace of God,’ as you call it, helps you to sing, do you, Blyth?”
“Yes, sir,” said Nathan, warmly; “I have a good conscience, a sense and assurance of my Saviour’s love, and a bright hope of heaven. God’s providence has filled my cup brimfull with blessings, and if I did not sing His praises the very stones might well cry out.”
All this was beyond the belief or comprehension of Squire Fuller, and Natty might have answered his dubious look by the words of the Samaritan woman, “Thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep.”
“Well, well,” said he, “I am heartily glad, at any rate, that you can take life so brightly. It certainly would be a thousand pities if that grand voice of yours was to rust for want of practice.”
“Yes, there’s something in that, too,” said Nathan, with a smile.
‘To help the voice full clear to ring.
Go out into the woods and sing.’