Seated one day at the organ
I was weary and ill at ease;
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys;
I know not what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then,
But I struck one chord of music,
|:Like the sound of a great Amen.:|
It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an angel's psalm
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife,
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life;
It linked all perplexed meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence,
As if it were loath to cease;
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the organ,
And entered into mine.
|:It may be that death's bright angel
Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in heav'n
I shall hear that grand Amen.:|
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