Remembering
“When
through the woods and forest glades I wander,
and
hear the birds sing sweetly in the the trees;
when
I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
and
hear the brook, and feel the gentle breeze;
Then
sings my soul, my Savior God to thee;
how
great thou art, how great thou art!
Then
sings my soul, my Savior God to thee,
how
great thou art, how great thou art!”
Hymn:
“How Great Thou Art”
I
attended a funeral yesterday...one of the grand old dames who was
among the original band of Pilgrims that founded our church. Her name
was Pat, and she grew up in the home of one of the original
aristocracy of this country—not in the lap of privilege, but
because her father was an English butler, and her mother a Scottish
cook. Pat married a Swiss watch maker, Rene, who came to Birmingham
to work in a small factory making quality time pieces—part of a
whole community of Swiss who were recruited here in the 1940's and
50's . Together Pat and Rene took part in the Civil Rights marches
and fought for equal rights for African Americans in the early
1960's. She was a force to be reckoned with, and we will miss her.
We
sang this old hymn yesterday and it took me back to my childhood.
Watching Billy Graham crusades with my grandmother, Mayda, is one of
my best memories of her. She didn't often commandeer the television,
but if Billy was preaching, she had total control of the room. So I
heard this hymn a lot as a child, but I never really listened to the
words other than the refrain. Yesterday at Pat's funeral, I did. The
quote above was my favorite verse. Once again, I was reminded of how
we find the sacred everywhere—in the forest glade and on the
mountain top, in bird song and in breezes, in stars and rolling
thunder. It's a lovely hymn for that reason, and because now it will
not only remind me of my grandmother, but also of Pat.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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