Cades Cove Primitive Baptist Church Photo credit: J.Stephen Conn
I want a sober mind,
An all sustaining eye,
To see my God above,
And to the heavens fly.
I’d soar away above the sky,
I’d fly to see my God above.
I want a Godly fear,
A quick discerning eye,
That looks to Thee my God,
And see the tempter fly.
Tune: A. Marcus Cagle, 1935
Words: Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs, 1814
A perfect marriage of text and tune: the stern austerity of the lines about sobriety and Godly fear breaks into an ecstatic fugue as the singer soars upward to see God. A hymn about vision and transport.
Today is Reformation Sunday and if you found yourself in a Lutheran church (or some of the other Reformed church congregations) you’re likely to have sung “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.” The Reformation, of course, was one of the Church’s Great Disagreements that yielded both good things and bad, and eventually resulted in a whole slew of denominations.
Among the many groups born from theological disagreement are the Primitive Baptists. Also known as Hard Shell, or Anti-Mission Baptists, these American Christians split off from other Baptists in the 1800s due to a controversy over missions and the understanding of grace and atonement.
Because they believe the New Testament only commands us to sing, Primitive Baptists do not usually play musical instruments as part of worship. All singing is a cappella. The hymn “O Sing to Me of Heaven” is sung here by a congregation from southwestern Virginia, and is another example of lining out. It’s an ecstatic song about dying and the joys of heaven. When I listen to it, the plainness of the voices, the interplay between the leader and the congregation, and the over-the-top imagery unexpectedly combine to convey strangeness and power. It’s an other-worldly sound.
O Sing to me of Heaven – words: Mary Dana Schindler
O Sing to me of Heaven.
When I am called to die.
Sweet songs of holy ecstasy.
To waft my soul on high.
CHORUS:
There’ll be no sorrow there.
There’ll be no sorrow there.
In Heaven above where all is love.
There’ll be no sorrow there.
When cold and sluggish drops.
Roll off my dying brow.
Break forth in songs of joyfulness.
Let Heaven begin below.
When the last moments come.
O, soothe my dying face.
To catch the bright seraphic gleam.
Which o’er my features play.
Then to my raptured ear.
Let one sweet song be given;
Let music charm me last on earth,
And greet me first in Heaven.
Then round my senseless clay.
Assemble those I love,
And sing of Heaven, delightful Heaven,
My glorious home above.
View from Mount Sinai Image released to public domain via Wikipedia
There’s something about God and mountains–or maybe there’s something about people and mountains. Whatever the truth, you can find a lot of high places in the Bible, raising humans above the everyday and opening them to the presence of God. Think: Noah on Ararat, Moses ascending Sinai, Jesus’ Transfiguration, and the psalmist lifting up eyes to the hills. So perhaps it’s not surprising that there exits a place in the lower desert of Southern California called Salvation Mountain.
Salvation Mountain is an art installation, and a highly personal and expression of faith created by Leonard Knight. Knight’s goal was simple, to proclaim the message “God is Love.” The site is monumental, reflecting both the greatness of God’s love and the intensity of Knight’s passion. And it’s quirky, giving us the opportunity to stand in the shoes of some of Noah’s neighbor’s for just a bit. You can explore the mountain further through photojournalist Aaron Huey’s beautiful, compelling pictorial essay.
Salvation Mountain Wikimedia Commons; photo by Joe Decruyemaere licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0
