eyes fill just of themselves?

And now was the moment of the great surprise at hand. Missy could
scarcely wait. It must be admitted that, during the interminable
time that grandpa was reading his chapter--it was even a longer
chapter than usual to-night--and while grandma was reading her
shorter one, Missy was not attending. She was repeating to herself
the Twenty-third Psalm. And even when they all knelt, grandpa beside
the big Morris chair and grandma beside the little willow rocker and
Missy beside the "patent rocker" with the prettiest crocheted tidy--
her thoughts were still in a divine channel exclusively her own.

But now, at last, came the time for that channel to be widened; she
closed her eyes tighter, clasped her hands together, and began:

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want, He maketh me to lie down
in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters. . ."

How beautiful it was! Unconsciously her voice lifted--quavered--
lowered--lifted again, with "expression." And she had the oddest
complex sensation; she could, through her tightly closed eyes,
vision herself kneeling there; while, at the same time, she could
feel her spirit floating away, mingling with the air, melting into
the night, fusing with all the divine mystery of heaven and earth.
And her soul yearned for more mystery, for more divinity, with an
inexpressible yearning.

Yet all the time she was conscious of the dramatic figure she made,
and of how pleased and impressed her audience must be; in fact, as
her voice "tremuloed" on that last sublime "Surely goodness and