Connecticut western news., 1910-09-08
Life Minor Chord
By William Henry Spear.

faithfully and we'll During all these years he had never been late to service nor taken a vacation from professional cares No Sunday was too stormy, no rehearsal night too cold for him to be Ill his accustomed place.
 Passing years had left him old an gray in service. At last the time came in his life, as it comes in many a life when people said: "Our organist is grow ing old. His time is inaccurate. We must have younger man."
 So the few decided that the old, worn out musician, having outlived his use- fulness must give place to younger man. They retired the old man on pension 1t was the night of his fare we'll. The church. was filled to over flowing.
 At the organ the old man sat, his fin gers strayed over the keys and each note pealed forth clear, distinct and wonder ously harmonious. Time, rythm, feel ing, pathos, expression co-mingled, and above all arose a note of triumph, as though the old mans soul had risen above things terrestrial and gained a glimpse of the eternal.
 In the audience were men and women who had known him for more than 20 years. For some he had played the wedding march, when the church was filled with beauty and rich with the fra grance of flowers. He had sat at the organ when the last earthly remnant of the young wife, the old mother, the gray haired grandsire, the young man stricken down in his pride and prime and the lit tie child entering upon childhood's dawn. lay upon the somber pail, surrounded by floral harps, anchors, crosses and crowns, and under his magic touch solemn requiem had taken the place of wedding march.
 He had played amid tears and sorrow he had made the great organ talk when smiles and congratulations were on every side.
 Sunday after Sunday he had directed the choir from the seat ill front of his loved instrument with almost the ten derness parent feels for child.
 With such flood of memories was it strange that the old man was moved to tears as for the last time he sat in his accustomed place?
 Emotion choked his utterance as the people at the close crowded forward to say farewell. He had electrified his auditors by his brilliancy of execution. Now came a pause. All eyes turned upon the silent man, who, with bowed head, was mechanically fumbling the organ keys. Then the silence was bro- ken. From the cavenous depths of the great organ came floating soft tremolo, as though the organ desired to record it's protest against the loss of friend. Then arose, sweet and gentle as zephyr's breath the old organist's swan song:
 Nearer, my God to thee,
 Nearer to Thee.
 Fen tho it be a cross,
 .v That raiseth me,
 Still all my song shall be
 Nearer my God to Thee,
 Nearer to Thee"
 From sobbing tremolo it increased to crescendo, veritable triumph song, and then died away to faintest echo. The audience sat amazed. Was this the man some had called too old to longer hold his place? The man whose genius had made even his instrument speak out so eloquent protest?
 Slowly and with reverence he closed the organ lid. The old organist had played his farewell. Twas then the people crowded around him.. Tears filled many eyes.
 Good night Good bye May God bless you"
 The lights went out The church was dark. The people had gone. The old organist had stepped out into the night.
 He never recovered from the blow which touched his heart. An old man, bowed with the weight of 65 years sank into decline. One day he fell prone upon the street They picked him up. He was dead.
 Three days later, in casket covered by profusion of flowers. lay all that was mortal of the old organist. His virtures were emphasized in eloquent eulogy. Fselingly the choir he once hau led sang his favorits songs. Then, as they raised the casket to bear it from the church, the great organ sobbed it's requiem farewell
 Nearer, my God, to Thee,
 Nearer to Thee"
 But another and younger hand was at the keys. The old organist had passed from night into the eternal morning.
 His Idea of a Sermon. 1
 Rnhorf Morris man ooIohra fod for