Burdened with precious memories of the past,
How oft again thy mighty voice I hear;
Now rising, like the solemn swelling blast,
Now falling sweet and plaintive on the ear!
Expressing all the heart unuttered feels,
Its longing for another, higher life;
The grief and sorrow that no word reveals,
The outward conflict, and the inward strife.
And as the organist, with ready skill,
Touches the keys; again the School I see
Gathered around, and all the choir they fill;
Still lingers in my heart the melody
Of youthful voices, joined in concert sweet,
Within the choir, where we were wont to meet.