As the boy sang, French laid down the book and in silence gazed upon the singer's face.

Through verse after verse the others sang to the end.
"I say, boy," said Brown, "you're great! I'd like to hear you sing that last verse alone.

Get up and try it.

What do you say ?" Without hesitation the boy rose up.

His spirit had caught the inspiration of the hymn and began, "Or if on joyful wing Cleaving the sky, Sun, moon, and stars forgot, Upward I fly, Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee!" The warm soft light from the glow still left in the western sky fell on his face and touched his yellow hair with glory.