'O sweet and blessed country!'

The longing, the yearning, in the second 'O' were indescribable. Again
and again, as she held that word, and then dropped down with the cadence
in the music, my heart ached for I knew not what.

The audience were sitting as in a trance. The grimy faces of the miners,
for they never get quite white, were furrowed with the tear-courses.
Shaw, by this time, had his face too lifted high, his eyes gazing far
above the singer's head, and I knew by the rapture in his face that he
was seeing, as she saw, the thronging stately halls and the white-robed
conquerors. He had felt, and was still feeling, all the stress of
the fight, and to him the vision of the conquerors in their glory was
soul-drawing and soul-stirring. And Nixon, too--he had his vision; but
what he saw was the face of the singer, with the shining eyes, and, by
the look of him, that was vision enough.

Immediately after her last note Mrs. Mavor stretched out her hands to
her little girl, who was sitting on my knee, caught her up, and, holding
her close to her breast, walked quickly behind the curtain. Not a sound
followed the singing: no one moved till she had disappeared; and then
Mr. Craig came to the front, and, motioning to me to follow Mrs. Mavor,
began in a low, distinct voice--

'Gentlemen, it was not easy for Mrs. Mavor to sing for us, and you
know she sang because she is a miner's wife, and her heart is with the
miners. But she sang, too, because her heart is His who came to earth
this day so many years ago to save us all; and she would make you love
Him too. For in loving Him you are saved from all base loves, and you