The Lost Chord

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

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 the 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 Heav’n

I shall hear that great Amen.

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 great Amen.