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Updated: June 16, 2025
Was it too late to make that effort?.... Presently the strains of music pervaded my consciousness, the chimes of Trinity ringing out in the damp night the Christmas hymn, Adeste Fideles. It was midnight it was Christmas. How clear the notes rang through the wet air that came in at my window!
The hearses slowly passed along, followed by the mourning carriages, the bands playing alternately "Adeste Fidelis" and the "Dead March," and then followed the deep column of the processionists, still marching onwards with unflagging spirit, thousands seeming to be thoroughly soaked with the rain, which was falling all the morning.
Christmas morning! and the bells in St. Luke's pealing the great old hymn, dear for scores of years to those who had heard it chiming from the ivy-grown towers "Adeste, Fideles." "Oh, come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant!"
Was it too late to make that effort?... Presently the strains of music pervaded my consciousness, the chimes of Trinity ringing out in the damp night the Christmas hymn, Adeste Fideles. It was midnight it was Christmas. How clear the notes rang through the wet air that came in at my window!
That distant figure will be Brother Flavio, of the Franciscan Order, and the old boy is going to ramp up and down in front of those chimes with a hammer and give me a concert. He'll bang out 'Adeste Fideles' and 'Gloria in Excelsis. That's a cinch, because he's a creature of habit. Occasionally he plays 'Lead, Kindly Light' and 'Ave Maria'!"
It was the Child called Wonderful that lay there beneath the old hands, rather than the stricken Man of Sorrows. Adeste fideles sang the choir from the tribune. Come, let us adore, rather than weep; let us exult, be content, be ourselves like little children. As He for us became a child, let us become childlike for Him. Let us put on the garments of infancy and the shoes of peace.
It was to be for all faiths that point heavenward, all ethics that teach the mastery of self, all creeds that exalt Jesus Christ, all religions that really bind back to God. The company had said it; and the men knew that that meant Job. It was a strange service. The Catholic choir sang "Adeste Fideles," and they all bowed and said the prayer of prayers.
The only hymn I could find in the book that I knew was the fine old hymn, "How Firm a Foundation," and that was sung heartily to the "Adeste Fideles." They are naturally a musical race, picking up airs with great facility, and they thoroughly enjoy singing. After the service the missionary confided some of his troubles to me.
Susan, whose hands were very cold, struck the opening chords, and a moment later the young voices rose together, through the silent house. "Adeste, fideles, Laeti triumphantes, Venite, venite in Bethlehem...." Josephine had always sung the little solo. Susan felt it coming, and she and Betts took it together, joined on the second phrase by Anna's rich, deep contralto.
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