Roy Exum
Maybe it is an early sign I am now growing real old, or perhaps it is an effort to make Sunday morning services more appealing to the younger set, but this week I have been stirred by the number of people who have said they miss the old hymns we used to sing in church.
Today we have a lot of what is called “praise music,” these new contemporary songs that some wit once described as “four words you sing seven times,” and there is no denying some are tremendous, but put me down as one who misses “Love Lifted Me,” “The Old Rugged Cross,” and “All Hail The Power.”
The whole thing started earlier in the week when I got an email from a dear friend who sent a story that was born in the Starbuck’s coffee shop at the corner of 51st and Broadway in New York. It seems they sometimes have live music for the patrons and this particular day a jazzy duo was playing songs from the 50s and 60s to the delight of the crowd.
One middle-aged lady got caught up in the swirl and, during a song that Lionel Ritchie made so many of us memorize, she began to sing along with the musicians before she caught herself and tried to hide her embarrassment.
After the song, she stepped forward to apologize, but the fun keyboard player would have none of that, telling her they loved it when people sang along, and then he went it one better by asking her if she’d join them on the next one. To her own surprise, she agreed.
“What song would you like to try?” asked the musician, since they had hardly any music sheets, and the woman, her eyes growing wide over the prospect of remembering the words, suddenly said, “You know any hymns?”
The two musicians laughed, since they had met when they were playing for churches many years before, and one said, “How about ‘His Eye Is On The Sparrow’?” The woman's face immediately clouded, but she shook it away and said, “Let’s do it.”
Well, the woman was an accomplished singer and, as her harmony joined with the duo’s music, the coffee shop got real still. “Why should I be discouraged … why should the shadows fall … “
It was as though an angel had entered the room and, according to the story, even the coffee machine quit gurgling as one of the greatest songs this world has ever known was played that day in Starbucks.
“I sing because I'm happy;
I sing because I'm free.
For His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me.”
When the song had ended, and the last chord had been played, a brief silent pause gave way to a standing ovation by everyone within earshot. It was, to say the least, one of those magical moments that too rarely come in one’s life.
The delighted musicians asked her to do another, but, no, said the lady, she was late and had to go. But then she said something else. “That was my daughter’s favorite song. She loved it. We sang ‘His Eye Is On The Sparrow’ at her funeral.”
“Funeral??” the musician asked, a heavy lump forming In his throat. “She was 16 and had a brain tumor. We buried her two weeks ago so …. “ the lady paused as she unconsciously smoothed the coat over her arm, “to sing with you was one of God’s special blessings.”
Well, I forwarded the e-mail to as many people as I could and it was funny how many replies I got from people who freely admit they cry every time they hear “How Great Thou Art” or how they’ll never forget how Johnny Cash must have sounded like the Lord Himself when he would do, “I come to the garden alone …”
My earliest favorite was one we never sing anymore because somehow “Onward Christian Soldiers” fell out of favor, but “Jesus Loves Me” still reminds me of chicken-noodle soup because I was introduced to both before I was one year old. Those old classics are simply the best.
And nothing used to make my grandfather squirm worse than when sometimes we would just sing just the first and last verse because he would always explain each song was a wonderful story and nobody should ever dare to omit the middle.
Gosh, don’t you remember “A Church’s Firm Foundation” and “Faith of Our Fathers”? Every time we used to sing “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee” it made me happy and, to hear an older man, a baritone growing deep, sing “Blessed Assurance” is the real deal.
I’m not knocking today’s “praise music,” I promise I’m not, but every once in awhile, much like that lady in Starbuck’s, I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart when I am once again reminded, “ … his eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.”
royexum@aol.com