"I hope she hears it," said Mrs. Bird; "but they are very late to-night, and I dare not speak to her lest she should be asleep. It is after ten o'clock."

The boy-soprano, clad in white surplice, stood in the organ loft.

The lamps shone full upon his crown of fair hair, and his pale face, with its serious blue eyes, looked paler than usual. Perhaps it was something in the tender thrill of the voice, or in the sweet words, but there were tears in many eyes, both in the church and in the great house next door.

"I am far frae my hame, I am weary aften whiles For the langed for hame-bringin An' my Faether's welcome smiles. An' I'll ne'er be fu' content, Until my e'en do see The gowden gates o' heaven In my ain countree.

The earth is decked wi' flow'rs, Mony tinted, fresh an' gay, An' the birdies warble blythely, For my Faether made them sae; But these sights an' these soun's Will as naething be to me, When I hear the angels singin' In my ain countree.

Like a bairn to its mither, A wee birdie to its nest, I fain would be gangin' noo Unto my Faether's breast; For He gathers in His arms Helpless, worthless lambs like me, An' carries them Himsel' To His ain countree."