"[F]or three-quarters of an hour we sat in silence, and the voice of Mr. Gruffydd, wherever he was, filled us again with courage, and with hope of a better world. And his watch was in my hand, warm as when he gave it to me. "Are you with us here this morning, Mr. Gruffydd?" my father said, with my mother's hand in his. "Lifting up our eyes to the hills, we are, see. As you said, so we do. Forever. God bless you. Yes. And, O God, give ease to the sore hearts this day. Amen." "Amen," said we all. "Let us sing a good hymn," my father said. "Let us give our voices a good bit of work, now, before they will wash away." So we sang, and I seemed to hear Mr. Gruffydd's basso as you will hear it from a choir, only to be heard if you bend your ear and listen well, and only then, if you know what to listen for."