CHAPTER XXXI. PSALM CVII. 19.
Some chance word
May strike upon an inattentive ear
And rouse the soul from selfish slumberings,
To wrestle with a thousand subtle foes
That would destroy its hope of Paradise.
Outside the snow fell fast and thick from the dull impenetrable sky, but within the church all was warmth and light. Owing to the primitive civilization of the village the holy edifice was only illuminated by a few oil lamps, which just sufficed to fill it with shadows. The great arched roof above was completely in darkness, and hanging low down, almost on a level with the pews, the lamps burned with a dull yellow light in the heavy atmosphere. On the communion table four tapers shone like amber-coloured stars, touching the white limbs of the Christ hanging on the ebony cross with
