Sunday Morning Hymn

May 15, 2007 at 1:59 pm | Posted in Hold that line!, Laying it the line ;-), Uncategorized | Leave a comment

From the Methodist Church Hymnal page 157

Jesus Shall Reign

“Let every creature rise and bring,
honors peculiar to our King,
Angels decend with songs again,
and earth repeat the loud Amen”

Sharonlyn of the blog s.m.ART has been writing about her loss of her grandmother. She has posted a series of posts concerning her loss of her grandma.
In one of the posts she mentioned that her grandmother had a piano which she had learned to play for her grandmother.
So for the funeral, Sharonlyn had chosen three songs to play as part of the service.

“Beyond the Sunset”, “I Come To The Garden Alone”, “I Love To Tell the Story”

If you were born and raised in WV and went to church, at least my Methodist Church, the three songs she chose, were part of a repertoire that was constantly played and sung by the contgregation. They were sung with gusto and for most, completely from memory. Which I can do even today.

So those songs brought back a flood of memories of that little church with the small congregation singing as if their life depended on it. As believers to them, it surely seemed so.

Thinking about that congregation who and what do I remember? I was just 6 years old when I started to go to this church; having just moved to this small community.
I remember the “old timers”. One was old Mr. Cunningham. As a child I could tell he was a venerated by the congregation, because from my point of view, he was special since he would always sit in his chair (not a pew) by the coal burning potbelly stove and when called upon to testify or to pray the morning prayer, he would carefully kneel in a ricketity way beside his chair and extemporaneously proceed to pray an extensive prayer which to a child seemed like eternity had already started.
As I grew up and thought about Mr. Cunningham and his age at the time, when I first saw him was about 90 years old. Still later I found his gravestone in the Cemetery beside the church and on it was his birth year. It was 1859, two years before the Civil War.

Another member of the congregation was “Aunt Rosie” Strader. Rosa Townsend Strader to be exact.
She was my first grade sunday school teacher. She would do the usual lessons appropriate for that age group. And as a child I also noted that she was old and frail. But even at that age she still tended a garden, as everyone did in my community, and lived by herself until she moved away, I assume to a relative’s home when she could no longer take care of herself.
My cousin told me that Aunt Rosies father was captured by the Confederate Army and spent prison time in the imfamous Andersonville prison. So out of curiosity I checked her date of birth on her tombstone and it was 1860.

So when I think of connectedness and family and links to the past, just in the village where I grew up, I realize I was connected by personal contact with neighbors who were born before the civil war, my grandparents up on the farm one quarter mile away, who were born in 1875,
by Homer and Blanche Simons who lived just across the road, he being a veteran of World War I, his neighbor just across the road who was disabled WWII veteran.
To be continued.

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