“Yes,” assented the captain, “and we do not know that he may not come at any moment, for any of us; either by death or in the clouds of heaven.  ’Be ye also ready; for in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of Man cometh,’ is his own warning to us all.”

“Dear Christian woman, how happy she is now!” said Grandma Elsie; “that agony of pain all over, and an eternity of bliss at God’s right hand—­an eternity of the Master’s love and presence already hers.”

A moment of deep and solemn silence followed, then from the lake they seemed to hear two voices sweetly singing: 

“I would not live alway:  I ask not to stay
Where storm after storm rises dark o’er the way;
The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here,
Are enough for life’s woes, full enough for its cheer.

“I would not live alway, thus fetter’d by sin,
Temptation without and corruption within: 
E’en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears,
And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears.

“I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb: 
Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom;
There, sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise
To hail him in triumph descending the skies.

“Who, who would live alway, away from his God;
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,
Where the rivers of pleasure flow o’er the bright plains,
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns;

“Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,
Their Saviour and brethren, transported, to greet;
While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,
And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul.”

Hugh Lilburn was present among the guests of the evening, and before the finishing of the first verse, the voices seemingly coming from the water had been recognized by more than one of the company as those of his father and himself.  As the last notes died upon the air, a solemn silence again fell upon them all.

It was broken by Mrs. Travilla saying softly, and in tones tremulous with emotion: 

“I have always loved that hymn of Muhlenberg’s.  Ah, who would wish to live alway in this world of sin and sorrow, never entering, never seeing, the many mansions Jesus has gone to prepare for those that love him?”

As the last word left her lips, the seemingly distant voices again rose in song, the words coming distinctly to every ear: 

    “Jerusalem the golden,
       With milk and honey blest,
     Beneath thy contemplation
      Sink heart and voice opprest. 
      I know not, O I know not
       What joys await us there,
     What radiancy of glory,
       What bliss beyond compare.