into the wilderness. She loved her home and many friends and had no
desire to escape from them or her surroundings. If it meant to fly
away to heaven--? Surely she did not wish that! The world and "the
things that are in the world" were very attractive to the young
soprano. She had no wish for heaven save as an alternative from hell.
What did it mean? Was it a heart-rest that David longed for? But she
had been conscious of no unrest--until just now. Honestly, the truth
was that she had not meant anything! Was it worship? But her friends
would tell her she sang it with feeling, she argued defensively, and
then asked herself candidly, what sort of feeling? She had sung
Mignon's song with equal sympathy the night before. She confessed the
truth; it was dramatic instinct that led her in both songs, and the
Spirit of God in neither.

"I am a hypocrite," she cried within herself, "and no true worshiper!"

Then she thought of the positive side of her action. While there was
no offering to God, she had received in her own heart the subtle
incense of the people's praise. Enveloped in its cloud she had sat
until the sermon disturbed her. She wished the young stranger had not
come to preach. Doctor Schoolman's sermons were nice, and learned, and
elevating, and never gave her such uncomfortable thoughts! Had he
preached this morning all might have gone on as before so pleasantly.

And now?--should it not go on? Could she think for a moment of
stopping it all? Impossible! But to go on with it was--"abomination!"
That was what the preacher said. Perhaps he was wrong, or she
misunderstood. Doctor Schoolman would know. But what said her own
conscience? After all, she knew the battle must be fought out there.
Was it not sin to take sacred words on her lips and not mean them? How