He loves his organ far too well
To be o'er-lavish with its thunder,
Yet wields at will the magic spell
That moves our hearts to awe or wonder;
Three centuries have lent its keys
All that consoles, inspires, rejoices,
And with a calm consummate ease
He blends the new and ancient voices.
And in these days when mothers mourn,
When joy is fled and faith is shaken,