Quote
"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."

Adelaide Anne Procter
Adelaide Anne Procter
Adelaide Anne Procter was an English poet and philanthropist.
"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 quieted pain and sorrow, Like love overcoming strife; It seemed the harmonious echo From our discordant life."
"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 Deaths bright angel Will speak in that chord again, It may be that only in Heaven I shall hear that grand Amen."
"Heaven unites again the links that Earth has broken! For on Earth so much is needed, but in Heaven Love is all!"
"Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming, But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain."
"I do not ask that flowers should always spring Beneath my feet I know too well the poison and the sting Of things too sweet."
"Joy is like restless day; but peace divine Like quiet night; Lead me, O Lord, — till perfect Day shall shine Through Peace to Light."
"How can a mothers heart feel cold or weary Knowing her dearer self safe, sheltered, warm? How can she feel her road too dark or dreary, Who knows her treasure sheltered from the storm? How can she sin? Our hearts may be unheeding, Our God forgot, our holy saints defied; But can a mother hear her dead child pleading, And thrust those little angel hands aside?"
"Rejoice, oh! grieving heart, The hours fly past; With each some sorrow dies, With each some shadow flies, Until at last The red dawn in the east Bids weary night depart, And pain is past."
"Kind hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one Have limits to its mercy; God has none."
"Hours are golden links, Gods token Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them, lest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done."
"If thou couldst trust, poor soul! In Him who rules the whole, Thou wouldst find peace and rest; Wisdom and sight are well, but trust is best."