hich must find an echo in the Higher Temple, where
thousands of children stand around the throne of God.

A wee lassie of five stood up to sing alone. As the thin, childish
voice rose and fell my heart began to beat fast, and I looked at the
fair little head through a veil of tears. They made an aureole which
transformed Roger Treffit's firstborn into a heavenly cherub, and I was
carried into that exalted state when imperfect speech and neglected
aspirates are forgotten:

"Jesus, tender Shep'erd 'ear me:
Bless Thy little lamb to-night;
Through the darkness be Thou near me;
Keep me safe till mornin' light."

Was there one present who did not at that moment feel very near to the
sheep-fold of the Good Shepherd? I am a Churchwoman, and by training
and association inclined to look distrustfully upon Dissent, but that
child's lispingly tuneful prayer taught me that I was in the House of
God; for surely I know at the heart of me that neither in the Catholic
mountain nor the Anglican Jerusalem is God solely to be worshipped, but
wherever men seek Him in spirit and in truth; and this afternoon a
little child was leading us.

"All this day Thy 'and has led me.
And I thank Thee for Thy care;
Thou 'ast clothed me, warmed an' fed me;
Listen to my evenin' prayer."

It was not evening, for the sun was still high in the heavens and the
shadows short upon the earth; but He with whom the night and the
morning are one day heard and understood, I do not doubt.

Without a pause the sweet voice went on:

"Let my sins be all forgiven;
Bless the friends I love so well;
Take me, when I die, to 'eaven,
'Appy there with Thee to dwell."

Amen and amen, dear little Lucy! Surely no stain of sin as yet has
darkened your soul, but the thought of the good Lord who "forgiveth
iniquity, transgression and sin" cannot come to us too soon. Let it
sink into the plastic wax of your memory and your heart, and harden
into certainty, and then when the time comes for you to die--whether
the day be near or distant--it will be well with you, "happy there with
Thee to dwell!"

There were other solos, but none which moved me like this of little
Lucy's, and there were recitations by two of the boys which affected an
entirely different compartment of my emotions.

They were highly moral pieces, I know, and they exhorted us to a course
of conduct which must have been beneficial if followed; the trouble was