C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
A Lost Chord
By Adelaide Anne Procter (18251864)
S
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.
Or what I was dreaming then;
But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
Like the close of an angel’s psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
Like love overcoming strife;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence
As if it were loth to cease.
That one lost chord divine,
That came from the soul of the organ
And entered into mine.
Will speak in that chord again;
It may be that only in heaven
I shall hear that grand Amen.