Drifting.
Echoes of cathedral music1
Heard—it may be—long ago,2
Linger with us unforgotten,3
Haunt us still, and live and grow ;4
They are drifting, softly drifting5
Through the wild unrest of life,6
Golden organ-notes, uplifting7
Weary souls above the strife.8
Though the clamour of the city9
Round our outer being rolls,10
Still those sacred notes are filling11
All the chambers of our souls ;12
As if touched by hands immortal,13
Stray chords, tremulous with love,14
Drifted through some open portal15
Of the wondrous church above !16
In the gray and silent morning,17
Ere the shadows are withdrawn,18
When the white mist hides the valley19
With a veil of airy lawn ;20
Then we listen,—hearing slowly21
Through the stillness deep and calm,22
Murmurs of that music holy,23
Like the cadence of a psalm.24
When the summer sunset lingers25
Low adown the crimson west,26
And the weary hands are folded27
With the blessèd sense of rest,28
Then we listen,—strengthened, soothèd29
By the magic of that strain,30
Till the furrowed brow is smoothèd,31
And the heart grows young again.32
They are drifting, softly drifting33
Through the great world’s daily strife,34
Golden organ-notes that tell us35
Of a new and better life :36
Low, clear music, sweetly blending37
With the spirit’s voiceless cry ;38
Under-tones that have no ending,39
Echoes of eternity !40