them trudging down the hill to their little cottages, with a half-conscious remembrance of the days when he had been their fellow.
There were several paths through Barton Woods leading from the road to the little villages on the other side of it. Suddenly Jonathan heard the voice of some one coming singing through the lonely place, singing as the untutored sing, with a shrill melancholy, dwelling chiefly on the high notes. He knew the voice well, and he stood still to listen.
"'I have waited for thee,' He murmured,
'Through weary nights and days,
Beside the well in the twilight,
And along thy devious ways—
But thou wert content to miss me,'
And I met His tender gaze.
"'Content no more, sweet Master,
Except Thou be with me
From this time forth in the city,
Where my daily toil must be;
And at evening-time by the fountain.
Where I will sing to Thee."
He raised me up and blessed me,
That sweet yet awful Priest;
He gave me the Cup of Blessing
From the eternal Feast,
The wine with hues more radiant
Than sunrise in the east."
