"Yes, yes, it will do. I shall succeed!" he exclaimed suddenly, in a
loud and full voice. "God will give me the strength to complete this
work; but it must be commenced with Him--strength and inspiration
come from Him alone!"

And Joseph Haydn, perhaps not quite conscious of what he was doing,
knelt down and with folded hands, and beaming eyes lifted up to
heaven, he prayed: "O, Lord God, give me Thy blessing and Thy
strength, that I may gloriously and successfully carry out this
work, which praiseth Thee and Thy creation. Breathe Thy Holy Spirit
into the words which Thou speakest in my work. Speak through me to
Thy creatures, and let my music be Thy language!"

He paused, but remaining on his knees, continued to look up to
heaven. Then he rose slowly, and like a seer or a somnambulist, with
eyes opened but seeing nothing, he went to his piano without knowing
what he was doing. He sat down on the stool, and did not know it;
his hands touched the keys and drew magnificent chords from them,
and he did not hear them. He only heard the thousands of seraphic
voices which in his breast chanted sublime anthems; he only heard
the praise of his own winged soul which, in divine ecstasy, soared
far into the realm of eternal harmonies.

Louder and louder rolled the music he drew from the keys; now it
burst forth into a tremendous jubilee, then again it died away in
melancholy complaints and gentle whispers, and again it broke out
into a swelling, thundering anthem.

At length Haydn concluded with a sonorous and brilliant passage, and