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 many times had she taken God's name in vain, pouring out pretended invocation to Him, while her heart addressed only the congregation for their approval! But it had been so thoughtless! He would surely forgive. But now she had thought about it, and it could never be the same again. By this time Winifred was thoroughly miserable. She pondered over and again what she should do, at times in imagination resigning her position in the choir; then saying: "Impossible! It is absurd! Who ever heard of its being wicked to sing in the choir? How could I explain myself?" Then she reflected that she would study to be earnest, that she would school herself to think of Him and sing to Him. She took her hymn-book and found the place of the last hymn, resolved to put sincerity in practice at once. It was chosen, without reference to the unexpected sermon, and was the well-known psalm of love and longing which earnest souls have sung for many years: "For thee, O dear, dear country, Mine eyes their vigils keep; For very love, beholding Thy happy name they weep. The mention of Thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest." "I cannot sing it!" Winifred almost sobbed to herself. "It is not true--to me." Then she read on. Before, she would have been carried away with the rhythm and the graceful thought. But now as she read: "Oh, sweet and blessed country That eager hearts expect!" "It's not true--it's not true!" she thought. "I cannot sing these songs. I know nothing of their sentiment. I am not a true worshiper of the Father. I do not believe I know Him!" Then Winifred covered her eyes with her hand. "'Thou desirest truth in the inward parts,'" the preacher was quoting. The words sent a pang through her heart. "God has found no truth in me," she thought, "I have been a lie." Then she sat in wretchedness, fighting back the tears that struggled to escape--tears of shame, remorse, wounded self-love, and grief that her favorite idol, a god whom she did know and had served well, was to be taken down from its niche in the house of the Lord and cast out. She heard little of the remainder of the sermon, and what she heard added to her misery; for it told of the joy of true worshipers when at last they should stand face to face with Him whom, having not seen, they love,-- "All rapture through and through In God's most holy sight."