Collected by Lew Hobson and Zane Hankins Sung by Mrs. Stella Hartley For M. C. Parler Saskatoon, Sask.
Transcribed by Zane Hankins December 1959
Reel 341, Item 7
The Volunteer Organist
The preacher in the village church on Sunday morning said,
Cur organist is ill today will someone play instead?
An anxious lock crept o're the face of every person there,
As eagerly they watched to see who'd fill the vacant chair.
An old man staggered down the isle, his clothes were old and torn.
How strange to see a drunkard in church on Sunday morn.
And as he touched the organ keys without a single word,
The melody that followed was the sweetest ever heard.
The scene was one I'll ve'r forget as long as I may live,
And just to see it o're again all earthly wealth I'd give.
The congregation all amazed, the preacher ald and gray,
The organ and the organist who volunteered to play.
Each eye shed tears within that church, the strongest men grew pale,
The organist is melody had told his own life's tale.
The sermon of the preacher was no lesson to compare, With that of life's example who sat in the organ chair.
And when the service ended not a soul had left a seat,
Except the poor old organist who started toward the street.
Along the isle and out the door he slowly walked away,
The preacher rose and softly said, "Good brethren, let us pray."
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