" I remember as a small kid, my Mum reading this to me at Bedtime, I’ve just found it again on Google, thought I’d share with you all."…
The preacher in the village church one Sunday morning said:
Our organist is ill today, will someone play instead?
An anxious look crept o’er the face of every person there,
As eagerly they watched to see who’d fill the vacant chair.
A man then staggered down the aisle whose clothes were old and torn
How strange a drunkard seemed to me, in church on Sunday morn.
But as he touched the organ keys without a single word,
The melody that followed was the sweetest ever heard.
Each eye shed tears within that church, the strongest men grew pale;
The organist in melody had told his own life’s tale.
The sermon of the preacher was no lesson to compare
With that of life’s exam