Source: O Little Children, Gather Near

It’s been several months since I’ve arranged a hymn, and a month since I last posted anything. I know my year of song is over, but it seems there are still many hymns on my list. And so, bear with me if I occasionally send another one out into the world. These hymns just keep calling to me – and I continue to listen.

Over the past little while, the world has been inundated with horrific stories about the plight of refugees. Our news outlets and social media are full of pictures, tragedies and questions. These stories are not new, and, unfortunately, are not rare. They have, however, given many of us cause to think about this issue in a more critical way, and with greater urgency than we have in the past. How do we fit into these stories?

This hymn was written by Christopher Dock around 1770. He was a Mennonite teacher who emigrated to Pennsylvania around 1710, where he opened two schools. It is said he was completely devoted to the children he taught – staying after school every day to pray for each one individually. A man who cared deeply in both a practical and spiritual way. The tune is sometimes known as The Philharmonia (1875), but in my hymnbook it is also given the tune name of Beautiful Flower. Appropriate because it speaks about gathering little children together to be taught and to be cared for. Beautiful flowers indeed.

Like many, I have been struggling with the images of refugees seen around the world. Those of children are especially haunting. Beautiful flowers left hungry, homeless, afraid, alone and sometimes dead.  These children have not always been gathered into the arms of those of us who have much to spare. Instead, we seem to have a bizarre need to justify our ability to offer care. Are their needs real? Will they harm us? How will they impact our countries? My memory of many, many Sunday School lessons doesn’t recall stories of Christ asking these kinds of questions.

I am also conscious as we approach Thanksgiving, that we have much to be thankful for. I enjoy time with about thirty children each week as a piano teacher. Every child I see is clothed, fed and has a place to sleep at night. This is a joy not to be taken for granted. The things we have allow our flowers to grow and show their beauty. It is an accident of birth that my thirty children can exhibit their beauty so easily, while millions of others struggle to break through the soil on which they find themselves.

There are few easy answers to the questions we’re faced with. But when we have much, choosing to place obstacles in the way of sharing is sad.  It is heartbreaking. Why not gather the little children near – the ones you know and the ones you don’t?  A field of flowers of all varieties is a beautiful thing. To view it will never diminish your experience. To view it will carry you through whatever hardship comes.  To view it will bring, and spread, joy.

Source: Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow

We have come to the end of my year of song. So I give you a doxology. The word doxology comes from two Greek words – doxa, which means ‘glory’ and logia, which means ‘saying’. So it combines to mean a short statement of praise usually added to the end of canticles, psalms and, fittingly for this situation, hymns.

This has been an interesting year. When I began this project I really didn’t consider it to be anything more than a means to motivate myself to do music. A deadline, of sorts, that would force me to work at something I wasn’t obligated to do – having no boss to please or paycheque to earn for my labours. Well, it did that, and then some.

I have learned many things this year.

I have learned that people love hymns. They are old and some may find their words and music outdated, but many of us love them anyway. Many of us are comforted by their familiarity; by the depth of their texts and by the history that has carried them to us.   There are truths to be found whether we agree with every word or not. This is one of the great beauties of art – be it musical or poetic, visual or literary. There is more there than appears on the surface.

I have learned that it is possible to find beauty in places I had thought ugly. Some of these hymns were not my favourites. In asking others for their suggestions, I hadn’t considered what I might receive! To be perfectly honest, I genuinely disliked some of these hymns when I started. I didn’t like all the tunes and I definitely had serious challenges with many of the texts. But in the end, I am deeply grateful for having been gifted with the task of finding meaning despite my personal tastes, beliefs and perspectives. What a valuable lesson.

I have learned that I am part of a community. One that is both easily and not easily defined. One that has become a little larger over this year. It contains both friends and strangers; people with diverse beliefs. It has overwhelmed me with support. Time and again I have received incredibly kind words from many of you. Continued sharing of personal experiences related to these hymns. Encouragement regarding both the arrangements and the thoughts I’ve shared. Endless positivity.   In a world where one often hesitates to read a ‘comments’ section, I have had exactly zero negative or critical responses to this project.

So beauty, community and the a shared appreciation of these hymns. Pretty good reward for the task. Pretty good flow of blessings.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise him, all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Amen.

Source: The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, Is Ended

The day Thou gavest, Lord, is ended,
The darkness falls at Thy behest;
To Thee our morning hymns ascended,
Thy praise shall sanctify our rest.

I love the evening. The calm found in darkness. The night sky, stars and the moon. Although I don’t often have the luxury of doing so, there is nothing better than playing piano late into the night when it feels like the rest of the world is sleeping. There is something about filling that kind of silence with music that brings to mind a space far greater than the room I’m in. This hymn reminds me of that space. Of the world out there that carries on when we sleep. Of the world that needs to be cared for whether we can see it or not.

We thank Thee that Thy church, unsleeping,
While earth rolls onward into light,
Through all the world her watch is keeping,
And rests not now by day or night.

The words to this hymn were written by John Ellerton in 1871, reportedly on his nightly walk to a teaching position he held.   Not surprising to those of us who enjoy late night walks, it is easy to imagine how creativity can emerge from this activity. It is easy to imagine that creativity should emerge when we come to the end of the day. The cycle of day to night and night to day is so much a part of us and this hymn reflects that. Reflects the understanding that every end is also a beginning.

As o’er each continent and island
The dawn leads on another day,
The voice of prayer is never silent,
Nor dies the strain of praise away.

The sun that bids us rest is waking
Our brethren ’neath the western sky,
And hour by hour fresh lips are making
Thy wondrous doings heard on high.

So as I relish the evening, I need to consider what follows. All the possibilities that emerge from the end of one day and the beginning of the next. And the thing that flows between; the thing that hold us together as we pass from night to day and back. This is our treasure. Find it and let it share the calm space of the night, and the joy of the new day.

So be it, Lord; Thy throne shall never,
Like earth’s proud empires, pass away:
Thy kingdom stands, and grows forever,
Till all Thy creatures own Thy sway.

My Life Flows On.

My life flows on in endless song;
above earth’s lamentation,
I catch the sweet, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.

When I started this year of song, I received a number of personal comments shared by those who made suggestions of hymns for me to consider. This is the last story I have to share from that list – although there are a few more weeks to go! I have placed this beautiful hymn near the end of my year because it contains the line, “how can I keep from singing?” If there is one thing that has driven me to do this project, that is probably it. There is something about all that life contains that requires me to sing – many tunes, many words, many emotions.

Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear that music ringing.
It finds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

The gift of this hymn, written in the mid 1800s by Robert Lowry, came from a fellow pianist who started out by saying that while it is lovely, she has often been annoyed by its lack of a time signature.   However, she acknowledged that somehow a beautiful character emerges from this very thing. There’s an uncertainty in the rhythm that, despite our preponderance for a regular beat, presents us with something both soothing and meaningful. A little like finding a song to sing in spite of the uncertainties of life.

It is dear to me that this friend also shared that her mother has requested this be sung at her funeral.  Knowing this has made it difficult for her to sing those famous, repeated words, “how can I keep from singing?” as the reality of that day seems to creep closer.  But she loves the hymn anyway, and  it remains a treasure. I am once again struck by how words and music carry, through time, our common experiences; providing comfort and space to let our emotions flow.

What though my joys and comforts die?
I know my Savior liveth.
What though the darkness gather round?
Songs in the night he giveth.

Whenever I listen to this hymn and sing it, I will be reminded of this shared story. The combination of beauty, annoyance, recognition, sorrow and comfort. Mixed emotions. So many of these hymns speak of the range of our experiences; recognizing that life just isn’t simple. But sometimes they also state really simple ideas that can provide so much more than we expect. This one is like that. It reminds us that we all have a voice and were made to sing. A built in instrument that has no equal; one that can sooth, weep, uplift and inspire. I am unendingly grateful for the gift of singing – whether  it’s done out loud or silently, in community or alone. Sing.

No storm can shake my inmost calm
while to that Rock I’m clinging.
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth,
how can I keep from singing?

He Leadeth Me.