He sang with all his power, he was in good voice and his heart was full of the glory of the service. He was never a singer at best, and the voice of a deaf person is never musical. This hard, metallic voice cut into that interlude much like the snarl of a buzz saw. His wife tried to stop him, but he could not quite get the idea, and he sang on. It is rather a curious commentary on the slavery to habit which most intelligent human beings willingly assume that this one earnest man, just as little out of step, nearly destroyed the inspiration of that church service. The unconscious solo would have taken all the worship from the hearts of that congregation had it not been for the quick-witted organist. Some human beings have risen to the mental capacity of animals in understanding and conveying a form of unspoken language. It may be “instinct,” “intuition,” or what you will, but in some way they are able to convey their meaning without words. I have found many such people in the world of silence. The organist possessed this power. Before the deaf man had sung five words she had stopped playing her interlude, had caught the time of what he was singing, and was signaling the choir to join her. By the time they reached the end of the second line at “one dark spot” the entire congregation was singing as though nothing had happened. The minister, too, sensed the situation, for at the end of the verse, before the deaf man could make another start, he said: “Let us pray.” And the incident was happily closed. As I look about me in the world of silence and see some of the sad blunders of my fellows, I feel that in their poor way they illustrate something of the life tragedy which often engulfs the reformer. The deaf man does not know or has forgotten that those who are blessed with good hearing do not and cannot go straight to the mark. Much of their time is wasted on useless “interludes” or ornamental flourishes which mean nothing in work or worship. This man at the church, while his heart was full, could only think of getting that hymn through, earnestly, lovingly, and without loss of time. He may have had more true worship in his heart than any other member of the congregation, but he dropped just a little out of form, and he quickly became a ridiculous nuisance. The truth is, if you did but know it, that some of your clumsy efforts to keep step with so-called fashionable people make you far more ridiculous than those of us who fall out of step. Nature never intended your big feet for dancing, but, because others dance, you must try it.