And, sitting at the organ, soft and sweet
There streamed a flow of harmony, tho’ I
Scarce seemed to touch the keys, yet simple hymns
Called forth a train of Spirits bright and young,
Amongst them saw I all that I had known
And loved in days when life seem’d sweet to me.
I was a child again, and saw myself
As such—no aching eye—no troubled brain
Had that young being who in faith and hope
Sang songs of holiness, of peace and truth—