52
THE K I N G ’ S BUS I NESS
She sang with feeling and expression — the qualities she had w o r k e d to achieve.
A Story
By KEN ANDERSON
Vera and a Verb
R AYS of the morning sun, dyed a soft blue-rose by the stained- ' glass window, fell like a halo eager r i p p l e of anticipation had Stirred the audience as she rose to sing. The movement brought a quick flush of pleasure to Vera’s cheeks and a lift to. her heart. Excitement dark ened her eyes as she glanced over the audience while the organist finished the prelude leading to her opening note. Appreciation n e v e r failed to thrill her, even when her heart felt leaden. What if it were but a small church audience in a little western city! It was a step up, and some day she would sing before larger audi ences, for the opportunity she had coveted so long was hers now. “And David would ask me to give it all up,” she thought bitterly, her glance flicking over the dark head of a young man sitting near the window and not looking »at her. “He wants me to bury my talent,” her thoughts ran on, but she caught them back. She must not think of David and their battle if she were to
sing as she wished to. sing. Softly the golden m e l o d y of her voice stòle through the room as she sang, with all the expression and .feeling she had worked to achieve: . “Hover o’er me, Holy Spirit, Bathe my treihbling heart and brow; Fill me with Thy hallowed presence, Come, O come'and fill me now. “Fill me now, fill me now, Jesus, come and fill me now; Fill me with Thy hallowed presence, Gome, O come and’fill me now.” Even the children were stilled by the rich warmth of her voice as She took up the second verse: “Thou canst fill me, gracious Spirit, Though I cannot tell Thee how; But I need Thee, greatly neéd Thee, Come, O come and fill me now.”
Here and there a head was bowed in quick prayer as the words reached hearts. And Vera thrilled the more to see that her voice had the power to do that—forgetting entirely that it was the Holy Spirit who was using the words of the song. Perhaps only one in that audience, unless it was the pastor, realized that the words of consecration on the lovely lips of the singer were not echoed in her heart. And he knew it because of his own sore heart. The song was finished, and the last note seemed to linger in the air as Vera took her place in the choir. The pastor rose and his voice was like a benediction to the song. “Amen! God give Us the vision of that song,” he went on, his firm, quick voice stirring hearts already moved by the message in music. “ ‘Thou canst fill me, gracious Spirit; Come, O come and fill me now.’ I wonder how many of us can sing that and mean it. What did it mean to you, V iia?” he asked abruptly, turn- ine to look at her with his searching
On the fair hair of the singer. An
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