We’d gather round dog tired after long days all six of us and Mom and Dad would pass out the black hymnals with the gold writing and we’d drown our souls in music until the clock ticked bedtime. Eight voices as one singing songs of the ages and I caught a glimpse of it then, but only later as trials wore off the shine and glitz of life did I realize that this what we know, what we live, with the ache that never really goes away, is not our home. C.S. Lewis says: “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probably explanation is that we were made for another world.”
I’d said goodbye to my man a few years back as he went off for training and I was humming this tune, a tune I remember from pig-tail and matching plaid dress days, and it was then he whispered in the ear that I was to have re-made it by the time he returned. And I labored and prayed and cried over it and sang the little ones to bed on nights when I was barely hanging on…just like I was sung to sleep so many years ago, and slowly it began to take shape, to morph just a bit from the original to the modern. It’s a hymn with a haunting melody that mystifies and draws one in and I run to it on dark days when this soul needs to catch a glimpse of light.
So friends, here it is this great song by Andrew Young with just a bit added by me. May it give you the extra encouragement you need on this sojourn.