He seemed to me like one who has come out of a sharp storm,
and has anchored in a quiet haven. For whilst I noticed in his face the
traces of heavy sorrow, still at the same time he looked happier and
more peaceful than any of those who stood round him; in fact, it was the
most restful face I had ever seen. He was not an educated man, nor was
he what men call a gentleman, and yet there was a refinement about him
which made one feel at once that he was no common man, and had no common
history. His face was so interesting to me, that I am afraid I was
gazing at him instead of finding the hymn he had given out, but I was
recalled to my duty by his little daughter, who seized the hymn-book she
had given me at the beginning of the service, found the page for me, and
pointed with her small finger to the place.
It was a mission hymn, sung to a wild, irregular tune. I daresay I
should have smiled if I had heard it anywhere else, but it was no
laughing matter that morning. As I looked at the brown fishermen who had
taken off their oilskin caps, as I glanced at the earnest face of the
preacher, as I noticed how even children, like little Marjorie beside
me, were singing with all their heart and soul the simple plaintive
words, I felt strangely solemnized.
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