a sound of dread, bringing their hearts into their throats. How
long she is away! has she been caught and carried off, and if so
what is to become of them? Hark! there is a sound of singing in
the distance, coming nearer and nearer.

And these are the words of the unseen singer, which I wish I could
give you as I have so often heard them sung by herself:

Hail, oh hail, ye happy spirits,
Death no more shall make you fear,
Grief nor sorrow, pain nor anguish,
Shall no more distress you dere.

Around Him are ten thousand angels
Always ready to obey command;
Dey are always hovering round you,
Till you reach de heavenly land.

Jesus, Jesus will go wid you,
He will lead you to his throne;
He who died, has gone before you,
Trod de wine-press all alone.

He whose thunders shake creation,
He who bids de planets roll;
He who rides upon the tempest,
And whose scepter sways de whole.

Dark and thorny is de pathway,
Where de pilgrim makes his ways;