Why it moves me.

          They left the great granite plain and flew over a garden even more beautiful than anything in a dream.  It in were gathered many of the creatures like the one Mrs. Whatsit had become, some lying among the flowers, some swimming in a broad, crystal river that flowed through the garden, some flying in what Meg was sure must be a kind of dance, moving in and out above the trees.  They were making music, music that came not only from their throats but from the movement of their great wings as well.

          "What are they singing?" Meg asked excitedly.

           Mrs. Whatsit shook her beautiful head.  "It won't go into your words.  I can't possibly transfer it to your words.  Are you getting any of it, Charles?"

           Charles Wallace sat very still on the broad back, on his face an intently listening look, the look he had when he delved into Meg or his mother.  " A little.  Just a very little.  But I think I could more in time."

          "Yes.  You could learn it, Charles.  But there isn't time.  We can only stay here long enough to rest up and make a few preparations."

Meg hardly listened to her.  "I want to know what they're saying!  I want to know what it means."

          "Try, Charles, " Mrs. Whatsit urged.  "Try to translate.  You can let yourself go, now.  You don't have to hold back."

          "But I can't!" Charles Wallace cried in an anguished voice.  "I don't know enough!  Not yet!"

          "Then try to work with me and I'll see if I can't verbalize it a little for them."

            Charles Wallace got his look of probing, of listening.

            I know that look!  Meg though suddenly.  Now I think I know what it means!  Because I've had it myself, sometimes, doing math with Father, when a problem is just about to come clear -

           Mrs. Whatsit seemed to be listening to Charles's thoughts.  "well, yes, that's an idea.  I can try.  Too bad you don't really know it so you can give it to me direct, Charles.  It's so much more work this way."

          "Don't be lazy," Charles said.

           Mrs. Whatsit did not take offense.  She explained, "Oh , it's my favorite kind of work, Charles.  That's why they chose me to go along, even though I'm so much younger.  It's my one real talent.  but it takes a tremendous amount of energy, and we're going to need every ounce of energy for what's ahead of us.  But I'll try.  For Calvin and Meg I'll try."  She was silent' the great wins almost stopped moving; only a delicate stirring seemed to keep them aloft.

          

          "Listen, then," Mrs. Whatsit said.  The resonant voice rose and the words seemed to be all around them so that Meg felt that she could almost reach out and touch them; 

          

          'Sing unto the Lord a new song, and his praise from the end of the earth, ye that go down to the sea, and all that is therein; the isles, and the inhabitants thereof.  Let the wilderness and the cities thereof lift their voice; let the inhabitants of the rock sing, let them shout from the top of the mountains.  Let them give glory unto the Lord!'

           Throughout her entire body Meg felt a pulse of joy such as she had never known before.  Calvin's  hand reached out; he did not clasp her hand in his' he moved his fingers to that they were barely touching heres, but joy flowerd through them, back and forth between the, around them and about them and inside them.