I am a sucker for the old Southern Harmony tunes – especially the ones in minor keys, which feel like Appalachia to me.
For the record, I am not from Appalachia nor have I never lived in Appalachia. But for some reason, that music – whether it’s these hymn tunes, or the bluegrass that sprung up from the same place – connects to something in me. I oddly feel the same way with music from the Jewish diaspora – another culture I have no direct connection to but whose music resonates in me. And it’s not just music to listen to; rather, I am more connected when I sing it, like it comes out of something deeper inside me when I sing.
Maybe it’s the minor keys. Maybe it’s the flow of melody. Maybe it’s the sense of awe, mystery, and wonder that shows up in the lyrics paired with these tunes…
I walk the unfrequented road with open eye and ear;
I watch afield the farmer load the bounty of the year.I filch the fruit of no one’s toil — no trespasser am I —
and yet I reap from every soil and from the boundless sky.I gather where I did not sow, and bend the mystic sheaf,
the amber air, the river’s flow, the rustle of the leaf.A beauty springtime never knew haunts all the quiet ways,
and sweeter shines the landscape through its veil of autumn haze.I face the hills, the streams, the wood, and feel with all akin;
my heart expands; their fortitude and peace and joy flow in.
These lyrics hold a mystery. Unlike yesterday’s, which felt like nothing moved, this has a bit of a storyline, a character examination, a connection between narrator, earth, and mystery.
This is a beauty – a perfect hymn for a stark post-Thanksgiving morning.
