Seated one day at the Organ,I was weary and ill at ease,And my fingers wandered idly Over the noisy keys.

I do not know 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 loth 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 Heaven I shall hear that grand Amen.