Again, for full thirty seconds, as the glorious song finished, there was an absolute silence, save for the ricketting of Rachel’s chair, as she moved in pettish anger on her seat.
Zillah had kept her eyes fixed upon Cohen’s face all the time she was singing, and had seen a strangely wondrous light slowly gather in his eyes. She had known, for days, that he was very, very near to the point of acceptance of Christ. Even as they had gathered at the table of the Passover, she was not sure, but that in all but profession and testimony, he was a Christian.
Now he suddenly broke the silence.
“Sing the last two verses again, Zillah” he said.
“My soul looks back to see
The burden Thou didst bear
When hanging on the accursed tree,
And knows her guilt was there.”
Zillah’s glorious voice rang out. And now, even to her wonder, Cohen’s deeper tones joined hers. Her heart leaped as she noted the emphasis he put upon the “My soul.”
She sang on. His voice sang on too. Then came the last verse, and in a perfect burst of triumph, his voice rang out:—