The reader will probably be acquainted with them.

They begin: "And now, O Father, mindful of the love That bought us, once for all, on Calvary's tree." At first Stella sang quite low, as though she wished to repress her powers.

Now, as it happened, at Monksland the choir was feeble, but inoffensive; whereas the organ was a good, if a worn and neglected instrument, suited to the great but sparsely peopled church, and the organist, a man who had music in his soul.

Low as she was singing, he caught the sound of Stella's voice, and knew at once that before him was a woman who in a supreme degree possessed the divinest gift, perhaps, with which Nature can crown her sex, the power and gift of song.
Forgetting his wretched choir, he began to play to her.

She seemed to note the invitation, and at once answered to it.
"Look, Father, look on His anointed face," swelled from her throat in deep contralto notes, rich as those the organ echoed.
But the full glory of the thing, that surpassing music which set Monksland talking for a week, was not reached till she came to the third verse.