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He sang them softly, but his
beautifully modulated barytone carried well, and every syllable
reached her.
"Enable with perpetual light
The dulness of our blinded sight;
Anoint and cheer our soiled face
With the abundance of Thy grace;
Keep far our foes; give peace at home;
Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come."
Then the organ swelled into full power, pealing out the theme of the
last verse without its words, and allowing those he had sung to
repeat themselves over and over in Jane's mind: "Where Thou art
Guide, no ill can come." Had she not prayed for guidance? Then
surely all would be well.
She paused at the entrance to the chancel. Garth had returned to the
second verse, and was singing again, to a waldflute accompaniment,
"Enable with perpetual light--."
Jane seated herself in one of the old oak stalls and looked around
her. The brilliant sunshine from without entered through the
stained-glass windows, mellowed into golden beams of soft amber
light, with here and there a shaft of crimson.


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