And judge of the earth,
Who choosest for thine
The weak and the poor...."
The anthem crashed gaily into their sorrow, and grasping the hymn-sheet they sang together.
"Wöan't you be never coming here no more?" whispered Bessie in the next pause.
"Depends on if my fäather catches me or not."
He drank in the heat and stuffiness of the little room as a man might drink water in a desert, not knowing when the next well should be. He loved it, even to the smoke-stains on the sagging rafters, to the faint smell of onions that pervaded it all.
"All honour and praise,
Dominion and might,
To God, Three in One,