Hezekiah Butterworth,
Zigzag Journeys in Northern Lands…
“ His mother’s cheerful face grew sad, as she laid her hand on his shoulder.“Why, Otto, thou art not thyself when thou speakest of those bells.”“More my real self, mother, than at any other time!” he cried. “I only truly live when I think of how my idea is to be carried out. It is to be my life’s work; I know it, I feel it. It is upon me that my fate is woven inextricably in that ideal chime. It is God-sent. No great work, but the maker is possessed wholly by it. Don’t shake your head, mother. Wait till my ‘Harmony Chime’ sounds from the great cathedral belfry, and then shake it if you can.” ”
