Perhaps none of us understood the "why," but we were under the spell. And certainly none of us knew or even dreamed that we were listening to the same words which Joe Slocumb had taken down verbatim in the morning.
The wonderful voice continued its marvelous sermon:
"Thy love the power of thought, bestowed."
What a wonderful thing to have bestowed upon us, and to what uses had we sometimes put it! But the voice went on:
"To Thee my thoughts would soar."
Oh, yes, gracious, protecting Power, lift Thou our thoughts up into thy plane!
"Thy mercy on my life has flowed,
That mercy I adore."
Did we need a sermon after that? We had had our sermon; and yet, our minister had never preached a better one. We could feel that his faith had soared upward on the wings of that prayer-song, and taken fresh heart for work.
For the first time in our lives we had the pleasure of seeing Handel Beethoven Smith in thoroughly good humor. The wonderful voice which he had invited into his choir shed a reflected glory on him, and filled his small soul with as much elation as it could hold. His expressions of satisfaction might not have sounded remarkable to the fair singer, but for him they really were profuse:
"It is certainly a great pleasure to hear your rendering, after the soul-torturing performances which I have endured so long. I permitted you to use the same selection which we attempted in the morning, in order that this obtuse congregation might feel the difference, if it has any musical taste, which I doubt."