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Updated: July 21, 2025
He lifted his face as the sound swept through the church. The fire and strength of youth had gone from the touch, but something remained something inevitable and gentle that soothed the spirit and lifted the heart like the ghost of a soul calling to itself from the past. Bach started. A hand had fallen on his shoulder. It was the choirmaster, small-eyed and eager. Bach followed him blindly.
"It will please the old organist," he added apologetically. Bach nodded his head. "I had thought of that." The other stared. "You know Reinken?" he asked. The great organist shook his head. "I have seen him." The humorous smile played about his lips. "I have never spoken with him." "He has been a great player in his day," said the choirmaster. The note of apology in his voice had deepened.
He glanced back over the fast-filling church and raised his eyebrows a trifle to indicate the honor. Bach smiled gravely. A humorous look came into his eyes. "Let the service go on as usual," he said quietly. "When it is done, I will play if time allows." The choirmaster squeezed his moist palms and wiped an anxious brow. "And that, too will be well," he murmured gratefully.
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