But this would not
have shocked her even in calmer moments. She only cared to find a
corner where she was entirely sheltered, between a green stained
pier and the high wall and curtain of a gigantic pew, where no doubt
sweet Mary Sedhurst had once worshipped. The lusty voices of the
village choir in some exalted gallery beyond her view were shouting
out a familiar tune, and with some of Betty's mild superstition about
"the singing psalms," she heard--
"Since I have placed my trust in God
A refuge always nigh,
Why should I, like tim'rous bird
To distant mountains fly?
"Behold the wicked bend their bow,
And ready fix their dart,
Lurking in ambush to destroy
The man of upright heart.
"When once the firm assurance fails
Which public faith imparts,
'Tis time for innocence to flee
From such deceitful arts.
"The Lord hath both a temple here
And righteous throne above,
Whence He surveys the sons of men,
And how their counsels move."
Poor timorous bird, whom even the firm assurance of wedded faith had
failed, what was left to her but to flee from the darts levelled
against her? Yet that last verse brought a sense of protection.
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