And round about the throne were four and twenty seats:
and upon the seats I saw four and twenty elders sitting, clothed in
white raiment; and they had on their heads crowns of gold."
Thurston had worked hard during these last years, he had immensely
improved his accent, and his h's were all in their right places. He
read very dramatically, dropping his voice to a whisper, then
pausing and staring in front of him as though he saw God only a few
yards away. The people of Skeaton had had few opportunities of any
first-class dramatic entertainment. When Thurston finished there
passed through the building a wave of excitement, a stir, a faint
murmur. An old woman next to Maggie wiped her eyes. "Lovely!" Maggie
heard her whisper. "Lovely!"
They sang, then, another hymn, accompanied by the orchestra. This
was a dramatic hymn with a fiery martial tune:
The Lord of War He cometh down With Sword and Shield and Armour
Bright, His armies all behind him Frown, Who can withstand His
Light?
Chorus. Trumpets Blare, The drum-taps Roll, Prepare to meet Thy God,
Oh Soul! Prepare! Prepare! Prepare to meet Thy God, oh Soul!
Never before had the men and women of Skeaton heard such hymns.
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