I was sitting in church last week when this hymn was sung, and I thought, I kind of like this one.  I don’t think I had heard it in quite a while, but the tune is very familiar (based on a traditional English melody) and feels like a pleasant walk in nature to me.  Obviously, the words also evoke this image – and were written by a Reverend Babcock in the late 1800s as a reflection on the many walks he took along the Niagara Escarpment in upper New York.  I will admit to being slightly perturbed by the excessive use of male imagery to represent God, somehow diminishing the grandeur of the Divine that is being described into an easily understood human package, but I will attempt to let that go as I consider this lovely little song.  Language of the time, I suppose.

This is my Father’s world,
And to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings
The music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world:
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world,
The birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white,
Declare their maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world,
He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world.
O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!

I could consider these words in terms of their beautiful description of our natural world.  The rocks, the trees, the skies, the seas; morning light and rustling grass. Wonders, all.  Understanding the presence of the Creator in nature.  Or, understanding the value of nature itself in its ability to remind us of something beyond ourselves, something majestic, something spectacular.

But it brought to mind something completely different.

What struck me in these words was the idea that nature sings.  The carols of the birds, the music of the spheres.  Of course this appeals to me – I love singing.  I love that we can sing together.  I love that it is possible for each and every one of us to join together and without needing anything beyond our voices, to produce extraordinary sound, emotion, spirit, meaning and community.  We can create astounding beauty – like nature itself does for us.

If I take this a step further, I realize that singing is as much an act of joy as it is an act of admiration.  We do it because it fills us with something difficult to describe.  It makes us feel good, it makes us feel sadness, it simply makes us feel.  But it also serves to remind us of what is greater than ourselves.  Be it nature or God – or be it the wisdom of the lyrics and the beauty of the notes.  The complexity of the harmonies, the simplicity of a lovely tune.  The laughter found in silly songs, or comfort offered in times of grief.  The rhythms that get our toes tapping, the solemnity that requires us to contemplate. The observations that reflect the entire human experience.

This beautiful act of expressing through song all that we are, all that we experience, all that we see, is one I value hugely.  It is universal – we all sing.  And it should be celebrated and protected, not merely as an act of mimicry, but as an act of deliberate participation.   Our voices can speak and offer so much.  I’m not sure we really understand that we need to sing, and that we need to fight for places in which to sing together.  We sing in our cars. Alone. But when we join together, something magical starts to happen.  We become connected – to each other and to the beauty of our world.  When we take the time to craft our singing, to learn from those who have spent their lives showing us this art and how to get the most from it, we bond with those we are working and playing with and we start to develop all kinds of skills and have all kinds of experiences.

When I walk through this beautiful world and listen to the music of the spheres, I want to sing along. Join me.  Our voices can unite for many reasons.  But mostly, to reflect the beauty we see every day – in the stars, in the birds, and in the eyes of someone listening.   For when the view is difficult, the sound of our voices becomes a beacon, a respite and a valuable tool in fending off that which threatens to weigh us down.  Sweet songs lulled us to sleep as children, and they can carry us as adults.  The act of singing is a powerful one that both gives and receives.  Filled with beauty and peace, comfort and joy. The human voice is an unsurpassed instrument.  So use it… sing and share, learn and grow, and let the earth be glad.

To be alone is a complicated thing. There are times when we are quite content to be alone – comfortable with ourselves and our thoughts and activities, at peace with whatever we are doing or experiencing.  But there are other times, when our deepest need is to be with someone who loves us.  To be in the warmth and safety of another’s presence.  To understand that, ultimately, we do not live in a lonely place.

Both sides of this coin are elusive.  It is hard to become content in our aloneness. It is hard to find that special presence, whether it lies in a person or in faith, that will carry us when we need carrying.  I suspect most of us spend our lives searching for and working at accomplishing both sides.  Some of us achieve the goal, others remain uncared for and lonely.

This hymn was written on June 6, 1882. Very specific. The reason is that its author, George Matheson, wrote of the experience as being an otherworldly happening that he felt was divinely inspired, and took him a mere five minutes to achieve.  He said, it was as if it was dictated by some inner voice that was not his own.  What is important to note is that he had suffered something, unknown to us, that caused what he referred to as “the most severe mental suffering.  The hymn was the fruit of that suffering.”

O Love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee.
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light that follows all my way,
I yield my flick’ring torch to thee.
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee.
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee.
I lay in dust, life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red,
Life that shall endless be.

There is such sadness in these words.  And such loneliness.  They sound like the words of someone who has suffered and who is so very tired.  And yet, each verse speaks to the presence of something else. Love, Light, Joy and Faith.  These foundations on which to stand in times of pain. These are not the empty sentiments of everything will be alright, these are the pillars that are being grasped because everything isn’t.  These are the strengths looked at when strength is gone.  These are the powerful ideals upon which a life is built.  These are the things left when we are alone.

We all suffer.  Some seem to suffer more than others, and I don’t really understand why. But there are times when I hear the words of someone who has suffered and feel a sense of tremendous strength.  Tremendous dignity.  Tremendous wisdom.  Some people come to these understandings walking a long and difficult road and somehow manage to achieve the gifts of love, light, joy and faith despite their circumstances, their suffering.  I admire this.  I aspire to own and exhibit these gifts.  These special people are valuable beyond measure.  Valuable in ways our world often doesn’t recognize.

Look around you.  Find those that suffer and admire their strength.  Perhaps the suffering is small, perhaps it is large, but open your eyes to the remarkable spirit that can rise above the mess thrown at it by life. Admire those who find their pillars, aware of their support even when all else is crumbling.

Look for those that suffer and are alone.  Perhaps you are the pillar that they need to grasp – give your love, your light, your joy, your faith.  Embrace the lonely if you have a strength to share.  Generosity of spirit is also an admirable gift.

Look at your own suffering and seek the smallest place to glimpse the love, the light, the joy and the faith that exists beyond yourself.  We are part of a richness of human spirits that can carry and reassure.  We are allowed to ask for help.  We’ve lost sight of this, but we are allowed to ask for help.

We are not alone.  We are many.  We are the love that will not let go.

I’ve been thinking about community lately.  It seems to be something that is difficult to find and, perhaps, not as common as it once was.  I recently had an interesting conversation with some people much younger than I about the subject.  We all wondered what the impact our diminishing community groups was having – on how we understand each other; on how we understand ourselves.

The idea of community is one that involves gathering together people with something in common.  This can be anything.  Politics, religion, family ties, culture, heritage, activities, geographic location, neighbourhood, work…. anything.  But it’s more than just having things in common.  It’s also about the bonds that develop.  The ability to connect beyond the shared interests.  The ability to both celebrate successes and carry the group and its individual members through challenges.  The ability to share lives.

In a world where we barely know our neighbours, and are often bombarded with the idea that strangers are somehow dangerous, how does community develop?  We need to gather.  And many of us are not great at that, myself included.  Making time for our communities requires effort.

This hymn was written around 1597, but first appeared in a 1625 collection of Dutch folksongs.  It has a bit of a strange origin in that it was written to celebrate a Dutch victory in a battle that was largely about being able to worship as Protestants.  I’m not a huge fan of military songs, but they were singing to celebrate their community’s new found freedom at a complicated time in church history.  They gathered to celebrate.  They gathered for strength.  They gathered for support.

We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing.
He chastens and hastens his will to make known.
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing.
Sing praises to his name; he forgets not his own.

Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,
ordaining, maintaining his kingdom divine.
So from the beginning the fight we were winning;
thou, Lord, wast at our side, all glory be thine!

We all do extol thee, thou leader triumphant,
and pray that thou still our defender will be.
Let thy congregation escape tribulation.
Thy name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!

While I am uncomfortable with the literal battle imagery evoked in these words, I am interested in the idea of gathering as a community.  Of developing such strong ties, that we are able to withstand the metaphorical battles we all face. If I really think about this honestly, I have to say that this kind of community is much more complex than what seems to have become the norm.  Most of us have a handful of friends that we really like – and these dear ones become our communities.  But many do not have communities of any sort that include people of diverse ages, or backgrounds, or perspectives.  We stay with those who are like us – which, while being a real treasure, is not quite the same as being part of a healthy, thriving community.

There is something to be said of learning from those who are different than us.  There is something to be gained by hearing the wisdom of the old, the young, the tired, the strong, the sad, the newcomer, the enthusiastic, the joyful, the inexperienced, the differently experience.  There are so many ways to view this world.  There are so many ways to be good.  There are so many ways to offer kindness, love and compassion.

These remain uncomfortable words for me.  They speak to a kind of divisiveness that I’m not entirely sure promotes the ideal of community that I might desire.  I’m not terribly interested in winning a battle between my group and another’s.  However, if I stand back and think about how we can gather to become a force of strength, I am comforted.  I am sure that the writer of these words was looking to God to be that unifying force in this gathering.  Some may still do that.  Others will look to values or interests or ideas.  But, wherever we choose to look for the foundations of our communities, I suspect we should actively consider building with bricks of many colours, textures and materials.  There is beauty in our diversity.  When we cease gathering, and cease looking for gatherings, we miss it.

So, gather together and enjoy all the blessings.

I will admit that I picked this hymn solely because I liked its title.   I didn’t know it at all.  The tune isn’t very catchy and I can’t say I loved it.  It is one of those really, really old tunes (1539) that doesn’t exactly flow easily for our modern ears.   But I played it a few times and it started to grow on me.  And then, I read the words.

Now all the woods are sleeping,
through fields the shadows creeping,
and cities sink to rest.
Let us, as night is falling,
upon our maker calling,
give thanks to God, who loves us best.

The radiant sun has vanished,
its golden rays are banished
from dark’ning skies of night.
But Christ the sun of gladness,
dispelling all our sadness,
shines down on us in warmest light.

Now all the heav’nly splendor
breaks forth its starlight tender
from myriad worlds unknown.
And we, this marvel seeing,
forget our selfish being
for joy of beauty not our own.

Though long our ancient blindness
has missed God’s loving kindness
and plunged us into strife,
one day when life is over
shall death’s fair night uncover
the fields of everlasting life.

I love the idea of night.  The darkness, the quiet.  The possibility of peaceful sleep.  The time to let go of daily concerns, busy schedules, pressing concerns.  The beautiful feeling of comfortable aloneness. A time to rest and restore our bodies and minds.  The idea of night.

Then, there is the reality of night.  Lying wide awake wondering if sleep will ever come. All the concerns of days past and days to come swirling around like a flock of crazed birds.  Worrying about how difficult tomorrow will be because of not enough sleep.  The sadness found in loneliness.  The reality of night.

I find these words speak to both the ideal and the reality.  Lovely shadows creeping through fields as we sink to rest, yet we find the radiant sun’s golden rays have been banished.  These words are full of the suggestion that we need something to hold us when we find ourselves alone.  Alone with our fears.  Alone with our thoughts.  Alone with our failures.  Alone with our pain.  Alone with loss. For those moments we find ourselves facing the darkness of night, unable to find its beauty and peace.  We all need something to shine warmth when we are cold, tenderness when we are raw.

In the past few weeks, I have spoken with a number of people who are facing some of life’s deepest challenges.  We all have these times.  In these moments of night that bring no real peace or rest, it is easy to feel very alone.  For those that find themselves unable to see beyond the darkening skies, it can be debilitating to find any warmth.  For those that must go through difficult transitions, it can be so tiring to have the patience to walk the path.  For some the darkness is insurmountable.

Where do we find the sunshine of gladness to ease our way? I don’t know.  For some, it is in their faith, as this hymn suggests.  For some it is in their friends and family. For some it is in their therapist’s office.  For some it is in the beauty of nature, art or written words and ideas that they seek comfort.  But I suspect there is something in the act of seeking the warmth we need that helps us through the nights.

And yet, there are those times that the weight of the night is so heavy it is difficult to see beyond it or to seek what we need. It is in these times that those of us fortunate enough to find ourselves in moments of sunshine need to be the rays of warm light.  We may not have solutions, but there is something to be said for being a listening ear, a caring hand and a giving soul when darkness has become a thick fog. For loving kindness is a powerful tool against ancient blindness. It is present and it is warm.

Loving kindness has a tendency to reveal a beauty that is not our own.  The kind of beauty that resides in both day and night, in both sadness and joy.  The kind of beauty that gives us the opportunity to receive and offer peace and rest to the weary. When we deliberately walk in loving kindness we reveal the possibility of night’s safety.  And, just maybe, we are able to find paths in the darkness of the sleeping woods.