I had heard Patti's 'Home, sweet Home,' and of all singing that
alone affected me as did this.
At the end of the first verse the few women in the church and some men
were weeping quietly; but when she began the words--
'When I remember all
The friends once linked together,'
sobs came on every side from these tender-hearted fellows, and Shaw
quite lost his grip. But she sang steadily on, the tone clearer and
sweeter and fuller at every note, and when the sound of her voice died
away, she stood looking at the men as if in wonder that they should
weep. No one moved. Mr. Craig played softly on, and, wandering through
many variations, arrived at last at
'Jesus, lover of my soul.'
As she sang the appealing words, her face was lifted up, and she saw
none of us; but she must have seen some one, for the cry in her voice
could only come from one who could see and feel help close at hand. On
and on went the glorious voice, searching my soul's depths; but when she
came to the words--
'Thou, O Christ, art all I want,'
she stretched up her arms--she had quite forgotten us, her voice had
borne her to other worlds--and sang with such a passion of 'abandon'
that my soul was ready to surrender anything, everything.
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