The strains he heard were the minglings of angelic instruments, and the cadences of voices of unearthly loveliness. They seemed to proceed from the choir about him, and from the nave and transept and aisles; from the pictured windows and from the clerestory and from the vaulted roofs. Under his knees he felt that the crypt was throbbing and droning like a huge organ. Sometimes the song came from one part of the Minster, and then all the rest of the vast building was silent; then the music was taken up, as it were in response, in another part; and yet again voices and instruments would blend in one indescribable volume of harmony, which made the huge pile thrill and vibrate from roof to pavement. As Thomas listened, his eyes became accustomed to the celestial light which encompassed him, and he saw--he could scarce credit his senses that he saw--the little carved angels of the oak stalls in the choir clashing their cymbals and playing their psalteries. He rose to his feet, bewildered and half terrified. At that moment the mighty roll of unison ceased, and from many parts of the church there came a concord of clear high voices, like a warbling of silver trumpets, and Thomas heard the words they sang. And the words were these-- _Tibi omnes Angeli._ _To Thee all Angels cry aloud._ So close to him were two of these voices that Thomas looked up to the spandrels in the choir, and he saw that it was the carved angels leaning out of the spandrels that were singing. And as they sang the breath came from their stone lips white and vaporous into the frosty air. He trembled with awe and astonishment, but the wonder of what was happening drew him towards the altar. The beautiful tabernacle work of the altar screen contained a double range of niches filled with the statues of saints and kings; and these, he saw, were singing. He passed slowly onward with his arms outstretched, like a blind man who does not know the way he is treading. The figures on the painted glass of the lancets were singing. The winged heads of the baby angels over the marble memorial slabs were singing. The lions and griffons and mythical beasts of the finials were singing. The effigies of dead abbots and priors were singing on their tombs in bay and chantry. The figures in the frescoes on the walls were singing. On the painted ceiling westward of the tower the verses of the Te Deum, inscribed in letters of gold above the shields of kings and princes and barons, were visible in the divine light, and the very words of these verses were singing, like living things. And the breath of all these as they sang turned to a smoke as of incense in the wintry air, and floated about the high pillars of the Minster. Suddenly the music ceased, all save the deep organ-drone.