| "Oh, gift of gifts! oh, grace of faith! My God, how can it be That thou, who hast discerning love, Shouldst give that gift to me?" |
Only one verse, as before. Then the pure notes, high above all the other voices, died away, and a strange-looking woman arose.
"I haven't any gift of language," said she, "but I want to give in my testimony. I've always been a wicked woman; I've always gone against my conscience. I've made my folks at home miserable for many a long year; and that's the reason God poured trouble after trouble down on me, till I was about to take my own life, when some one—it must have been one of God's angels—went singing through the woods. Shall I ever forget the words?—
| "'With tearful eyes I look around; Life seems a dark and stormy sea;—'" |
She stopped, her voice breaking into a hoarse sob, when the other sweet voice immediately went on—
| "Yet, mid the gloom, I hear a sound,— A heavenly whisper,—'Come to me.' "Oh, voice of mercy! voice of love! In conflict, grief, and agony, Support me, cheer me from above! And gently whisper—'Come to me.'" |
I looked at Mabel. She was not laughing. A strange, awed expression rested upon her features; her head was bowed down as the sweet-faced woman at her side rose and, turning to the last speaker, said, in a low, gentle voice,—
"My sister, we all thank our heavenly Father that he put his strong arm of protection about you while it was yet time; and since you have joined with us in profession of your faith, there has been no one more earnest in those good works without which faith is nothing."
Then reverently kneeling, she prayed that God would strengthen her dear sister, and give them all love and charity, one for another, and his peace, which passeth all understanding.
Out rang the sweet voice,—