WHEN SPARROWS SANG -ALTAR

singing emojis

Twenty-some years ago I wrote a manuscript called “When Sparrows Sang.”  It consisted of memories of singing songs in the churches I attended the first half of my life.  Basically relating to hymn singing or southern gospel songs sung by people like me – a sparrow, not a meadowlark or canary and getting paid to sing was unheard of!

This is a snippet of that manuscript.  By the way, I warn you that I can be a bit controversial. You might find some mischief in me when I share my snippets from When Sparrows Sang.

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SINGING DURING “ALTAR TIME”. In case some youngun’ wonders what I’m talking about, maybe I should explain an altar. It was a wooden bench, and it was as close to the Ark of the Covenant as we could get. No child was to climb on one; neither should one pull it over to the wall to stand on for painting. Something about cherubim and seraphim watching over it. 

Psalm 26:6 David said “…(I) go about your altar, O Lord, proclaiming aloud your praise…”  Our church altar was for praising, crying, repenting and for urgent prayer – sometimes even speaking in tongues or groaning in the spirit.  The place to lay your heavy burdens down.  

While pray-ers prayed, the piano player played. The music wasn’t needed so badly in order to fill up time.  The Aunt Mollys in the group were praying and there was no uncomfortable time to fill up. Aunt Molly was a jewel of a pray-er.  But as some of the less effective, or more effective as you see it, pray-ers got through praying, they liked to do something to keep the mood going, so they went up to the piano and sang whatever suited the occasion.  Songs like I Surrender All – Jesus, Use Me – He Washed My Eyes with Tears – I Am Thine, Oh Lord – I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go, Dear Lord.  

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Those were the pre-TV days as I said before here  when one let the Lord have more than his allotted hour.

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Image:  Unsplash

 

About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
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7 Responses to WHEN SPARROWS SANG -ALTAR

  1. Bettie G says:

    Oh I remember those altar times so well. And those same songs were etched deeply into my heart all those years ago. Even though I’m hitting the 60 year mark this year, we still had those Sunday evening gatherings while I was growing up. Thank you for the sweet reminders!

  2. pranabaxom says:

    Add audio of the sparrow singing😀

  3. Faye says:

    Thank you for the memories. I thank God that there are messages and music coming from Sonlife Broadcasting through our free TV channel here in Oz that are touching, strengthening and blessing our Christ-life. There is such anointing on so many of the songs you mentioned. They, like the Truth in the WORD, are ageless. Blessings!

  4. oneta hayes says:

    There are a lot of different styles of music. We cannot put God in a box. My stories I give for nostalgia’s sake. My criticism is toward our putting God on the clock, and for there not being an outlet for the sparrows to sing with abandon by giving all control to the meadowlarks and the “music minister” who is the most controlling person in the agenda of many “worship” services.

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