It had been four months since he had come into the office, and while they had several times discussed their respective religions, she had never found an occasion when she could make a personal appeal to him to accept Christ. Once when she had been about to do so, he had abruptly walked away, and another time, a client had interrupted them. "I must speak to him frankly," she said. Then she knelt and prayed that something might be said or sung in the service of the morrow that would prepare the way for such a conversation. David felt decidedly out of place Sunday evening as he took a seat in the back part of the room, in the least conspicuous corner he could find. They were singing when he entered. He recognized the tune. It was the one he had heard at Chattanooga--"Nearer, my God, to Thee." It seemed to bring the whole scene before him--the sunrise--the vast concourse of people, and the earnestness that thrilled every soul. At the close of the song, another was announced in a voice that he thought he recognized. He leaned forward to make sure. Yes, he had been correct. It was Hewson Raleigh's--one of the keenest, most scholarly lawyers at the bar, and a man he met daily. He was leaning back in his seat, beating time with his left hand, as he led the tune with his strong tenor voice. He sang as if he heartily enjoyed it, and meant every word and note. David moved over to make room for a newcomer. From his changed position he could see a number of people he recognized: Mr. and Mrs. Marion, Lois Denning, and the Courtney sisters. Bethany was seated at the piano. Presently the door from the pastor's study opened, and Dr. Bascom came in and took his seat beside the president of the League. "Look at Dr. Bascom," he heard some one behind him whisper to her escort. "What do you suppose could have happened? His face actually shines." David had been watching it ever since he took his seat. It was a benign, pleasant face at all times, but just now it seemed to have caught the reflection of a great light. Everybody in the room noticed it. David, quick to make Old Testament comparisons, thought of Moses coming down the mountain from a talk with God. He felt as positively, as if he had seen for himself, that the minister had just risen from his knees, and had come in among them, radiant from the unspeakable joy of that communion. Every one present began to feel its influence. The prophecy Dr. Bascom had chosen for reading, was one they had heard many times, but it seemed a new proclamation as he delivered it: "Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given." Something of the gladness that must have rung through the song of the heralds on that first Christmas night, seemed to thrill the minister's voice as he read. Then he turned to Luke's account of the shepherds abiding in the fields by night--that beautiful old story, that will always be new until the stars that still shine nightly over Bethlehem shall have ceased to be a wonder.