"How lovely is Thy dwelling-place,
Oh, Lord of hosts, to me,"
and a strange thing befell us then. Donald was singing huskily,
struggling with a storm which had its centre in his heart, all the more
violent because it was a summer storm and fed from the inmost tropics of
his soul. But it was the part Elsie took in that great psalm which is
still the wonder of all who were there that day, though her voice hath
long been silent in the grave. She had, years before, been reckoned the
sweetest singer of all who helped to swell St. Cuthbert's praise. Her
voice had been trained by none but God, yet its power and richness were
unequalled. But her last song had been by the bedside of her dying
child, and those who heard her say there was not a faltering note.
And now her voice was released again, and her unchained soul, aflame
with its long-silent love for the courts of Zion, found in that voice
its highway up to God. No psalm-book, no note of music made by hand, no
human thought repressed her or trammelled her exultant wing. Uncaged,
she sang as the lark sings when native meadows bid its exile cease.
From the first note, clear and radiant, as on a golden staircase her
voice went upward with its loving sacrifice. All eyes were turned upon
her, all other voices hushed in wonder, while even the wondering
precentor abdicated to join the vassal throng. But she knew it
not--knew nothing, indeed, but that she was again in the unforgotten
house of God, and pouring out her soul to the soul's great Comforter.
And she sat down with the others when the psalm was done, but wist not
that her face shone.
* * * * *
The kirk session was convened in my room after the great service ceased,
and the glow of joy was on every face. This joy they carefully
concealed, as was their way, but I felt its heat even when I could not
see its gleam. One or two spoke briefly, and their parted lips disclosed
their deep rejoicing, but only for a moment, as you have caught the bed
of flame behind the furnace's swiftly closing door. I told them, in a
word, of Donald and his Elsie and his token.
They were stern men, and ruled the kirk with sternness; they had dealt
faithfully with more than one who sought to restore the reign of the
token against the expressed ruling of the session. They nipped contumacy
in the bud.
But it was moved by Ronald M'Gregor, and seconded by Saunders M'Dermott,
and unanimously carried, "That the clerk be instructed to inform Donald
M'Phatter, and his wife Elsie M'Phatter, that it is the will of the
kirk session of St. Cuthbert's that they be in no wise admitted to the
sacrament except on presentation of tokens regularly stamped and bearing
the date of 1845."