A harp stood in the moveless air, Where showers of sunshine washed a thousand fragrant blooms; A traveller bowed with loads of care Essayed from morning till the dusk of evening glooms To thrum sweet sounds from the songless strings; The pilgrim strives in vain with each unanswering chord, Until the tempest`s thunder sings And,moving on the storm,the fingers of the Lord A wondrous melody awakes; And through the battling winds their soldier deeds perform, Their trumpet - sound   brave  music makes While God`s assuring voice sings love across the storm.