Not long ago, the newspaper's city editor, Susan Montgomery, came into my office and began talking about hymns. She puts together our Friday religion pages. She wanted to do something to get readers involved.
Susan came up with an idea of taking a hymn poll. It is easy. Submit the name of your favorite hymn, and we will see which one gets the most votes.
Then, Susan will research the story behind that particular hymn and write a story about it.
We started talking about some of the old songs. It brought back memories of living in Sidon.
Upton Black led singing at Sidon Baptist Church most Sundays. To a little 5-year-old, he appeared to be a big guy with an even bigger voice. He would stand up at the lectern next to the piano and would smile.
I can hear his voice now, as he would pick up a Broadman Hymnal - the old kind that had a green hard back. He'd look out over the faithful gathered that morning and roll out a number with that deep voice that sounded like I imagined God might have sounded when He passed down the 10 Commandments.
I cannot remember the number of the page anymore, but I remember Mr. Upton would sing a particular hymn, "Come thou fount of every blessing; tune my heart to sing thy grace."
We would sing that song nearly every Sunday that he led the singing at the tiny Baptist church on the corner. He must have liked it, but he never said it was his favorite.
That was back in the early 1960s when communism and Castro were interchangeable words and many times spoken in a hushed voice, kind of how we speak of killer diseases. Pops was a Baptist minister. He was a fervent anti-communist.
At one point, shortly after the Bay of Pigs fiasco and before the Cuban missile crisis, Pops decided that ole Fidel might just stomp on up the Florida Keys and land right in the back door of the parsonage next door to the church. He demanded that his girls learn the lyrics to as many hymns as we could.
On top of that, Pops demanded we learn as much Scripture as possible. I guess he thought Che Guevara would come behind Fidel and take the Bibles.
The hymns were a lot more fun and made more sense to my sister and me. It wasn't until much later that I learned many of them were lyrics placed to old American folk tunes. Some of those tunes haunted.
Take for instance the melody of "I am a poor wayfaring stranger." It starts in E minor and changes over to A minor. The music hurts much more than the lyrics.
At one point, Pops used to take us all to the old country all-day sings to expose us to the music of his faith. He liked "Holy, Holy, Holy." Pops could not carry a tune farther than he could tote an elephant. Once he promised his congregation he would sing a solo if they broke an attendance record.
They did. He sang a solo. I cried and covered my ears.
The acorn does not fall far from the tree, it is said. That is true. Most of my singing is limited to the shower or a soft hum.
One time, though, I sang loud and long. It was more than a decade ago when Rheta Grimsley Johnson and I set out one morning for the Neshoba County Fair. She was already a famous columnist for The Commercial Appeal. I was a new reporter for The Jackson Daily News. She was searching for a column. I was assigned to cover political speaking.
We did our jobs. Then, we visited a few cabins and headed back toward home but not without a detour to Nanih Waiya mound to look for those caves on the backside of the birthplace of the Choctaw nation.
I do not know how it started, but we began singing gospel. And we sang and sang, mostly in bad harmony as I recall, the old songs - "When the Roll is Called up Yonder," "Whispering Hope," "In the Garden" and, of course, "Amazing Grace."
It is hard to really decide on a favorite. There's "For All the Saints," which has a neat lilt to it. "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" and "Joyful Joyful, We Adore Thee" turn me on because I love the classics.
But pick a favorite? Too many choices.
So, come on and help us out. E-mail us (susan@gwcommonwealth.com) now with your favorite. While you're at it, tell us why you like it.
