'Tuba mirum spargens sonum Per sepulchra regionum.'

Deeper and deeper the organ dived down, but far below its deepest note they heard Puck's voice joining in the last line:

'Coget omnes ante thronum.'

As they looked in wonder, for it sounded like the dull jar of one of the very pillars shifting, the little fellow turned and went out through the south door.

'Now's the sorrowful part, but it's very beautiful.' Una found herself speaking to the empty chair in front of her.

'What are you doing that for?' Dan said behind her. 'You spoke so politely too.'

'I don't know ... I thought ...' said Una. 'Funny!'

''Tisn't. It's the part you like best,' Dan grunted.

The music had turned soft--full of little sounds that chased each other on wings across the broad gentle flood of the main tune. But the voice was ten times lovelier than the music.

'Recordare Jesu pie, Quod sum causa Tuae viae, Ne me perdas illa die!'

There was no more. They moved out into the centre-aisle.

''That you?' the Lady called as she shut the lid. 'I thought I heard you, and I played it on purpose.'

'Thank you awfully,' said Dan. 'We hoped you would, so we waited. Come on, Una, it's pretty nearly dinner-time.'

SONG OF THE RED WAR-BOAT

Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady!

Watch for a smooth! Give way!

If she feels the lop already She'll stand on her head in the bay.

It's ebb--it's dusk--it's blowing, The shoals are a mile of white, But (s.n.a.t.c.h her along!) we're going To find our master to-night.

For we hold that in all disaster Of shipwreck, storm, or sword, A man must stand by his master When once he has pledged his word!

Raging seas have we rowed in, But we seldom saw them thus; Our master is angry with Odin-- Odin is angry with us!

Heavy odds have we taken, But never before such odds.

The G.o.ds know they are forsaken, We must risk the wrath of the G.o.ds!

Over the crest she flies from, Into its hollow she drops, Crouches and clears her eyes from The wind-torn breaker-tops, Ere out on the shrieking shoulder Of a hill-high surge she drives.

Meet her! Meet her and hold her!

Pull for your scoundrel lives!

The thunders bellow and clamour The harm that they mean to do; There goes Thor's own Hammer Cracking the dark in two!

Close! But the blow has missed her, Here comes the wind of the blow!

Row or the squall'll twist her Broadside on to it!--_Row!_

Hearken, Thor of the Thunder!

We are not here for a jest-- For wager, warfare, or plunder, Or to put your power to test.

This work is none of our wishing-- We would stay at home if we might-- But our master is wrecked out fishing, We go to find him to-night.

For we hold that in all disaster-- As the G.o.ds Themselves have said-- A man must stand by his master Till one of the two is dead.

That is our way of thinking, Now you can do as you will, While we try to save her from sinking, And hold her head to it still.

Bale her and keep her moving, Or she'll break her back in the trough ...

Who said the weather's improving, Or the swells are taking off?

Sodden, and chafed and aching, Gone in the loins and knees-- No matter--the day is breaking, And there's far less weight to the seas!

Up mast, and finish baling-- In oars, and out with the mead-- The rest will be two-reef sailing ...

That was a night indeed!

But we hold that in all disaster (And faith, we have found it true!) If only you stand by your master, The G.o.ds will stand by you!

A Doctor of Medicine

AN ASTROLOGER'S SONG

To the Heavens above us O look and behold The Planets that love us All harnessed in gold!

What chariots, what horses, Against us shall bide While the Stars in their courses Do fight on our side?

All thought, all desires, That are under the sun, Are one with their fires, As we also are one; All matter, all spirit, All fashion, all frame, Receive and inherit Their strength from the same.

(Oh, man that deniest All power save thine own, Their power in the highest Is mightily shown.

Not less in the lowest That power is made clear.

Oh, man, if thou knowest, What treasure is here!)

Earth quakes in her throes And we wonder for why!

But the blind planet knows When her ruler is nigh; And, attuned since Creation, To perfect accord, She thrills in her station And yearns to her Lord.

The waters have risen, The springs are unbound-- The floods break their prison, And ravin around.

No rampart withstands 'em, Their fury will last, Till the Sign that commands 'em Sinks low or swings past.

Through abysses unproven, And gulfs beyond thought, Our portion is woven, Our burden is brought.

Yet They that prepare it, Whose Nature we share, Make us who must bear it Well able to bear.

Though terrors o'ertake us We'll not be afraid, No power can unmake us Save that which has made.

Nor yet beyond reason Nor hope shall we fall-- All things have their season, And Mercy crowns all.