By Traci Rhoades
I received a full dose of culture one recent evening. A family friend was getting her Master of Music in performance from a local university.
She embraced her moment in the spotlight, approximately 60 minutes on stage, performing solo, accompanied mostly by a pianist.
For two pieces, she welcomed two longtime friends to join her: one on french horn, the other on cello.
A 60-minute set, with thousands of hours behind it. A lifetime of peaks and valleys leading to this milestone, with a lifetime of ordinary days and faithful commitment still ahead long after the evening’s applause fades.
She’s one of those people who comes alive on stage. It’s a joy to witness. Even before a single note is sung, her presence shifts. Ever an actress, she inhabits the words she sings.
On the back of the evening’s program was an acknowledgements section. Her attempt, however incomplete, to name the many who shaped her. Teachers who invested their own thousands of hours, mentors and musicians who found a way to live inside their love of music in a world that still achingly longs for song.
Amid selections in French, Italian, and German (even I recognized the name Handel), there were two songs in English. From the first few lines, I recognized her first song, “How Can I Keep From Singing.”
The writer in me was delighted to find program notes for each piece, along with printed lyrics. This translates into biography, story, and poetry all in one. And yet, this song refuses to be neatly summarized.
Originally a Christian hymn from the mid-19th century, “How Can I Keep From Singing” later found new life as an American folksong in the 1960s. It has crossed genres and generations, carried by a wide range of voices - Keith and Kristyn Getty, Martin Sheen, Enya, Chris Tomlin, and the Muppet, Rowlf the Dog, to name a few. In the 1970s, it first appeared in the popular Catholic Glory & Praise hymnal, is beloved among Quakers, and continues to echo through many corners of the Church.
The original melody was composed by Baptist minister Robert Lowry, while lyrics were attributed to a Pauline T, first appearing in print in The New York Observer in 1868. Nearly a century later, author and songwriter Doris Plenn, who had learned the original hymn from her Quaker grandmother, added one of its most enduring verses:
“When tyrants tremble sick with fear, and hear their death knells ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near, how can I keep from singing?”
A testament to a song’s ability to transcend time, place, and persuasion.
The bookends of this special evening hint at a deeper story, and I found that especially beautiful. Before us stood a woman who kept singing, no matter what life brought. She closed with “Dream With Me,” written by American composer Leonard Berstein for the stage production of Peter Pan (though it didn’t make it into the final production).
In that final piece, Rebekah encouraged us to dream with her, tonight and every night, as the future stretches wide before us.
Bravo my friend. From your own penned acknowledgments: “Praise and thanks to the creator of all good things, who put a song in my heart and has faithfully guided me every step of the way.”
—————
I received a full dose of culture one recent evening. A family friend was getting her Master of Music in performance from a local university.
She embraced her moment in the spotlight, approximately 60 minutes on stage, performing solo, accompanied mostly by a pianist.
For two pieces, she welcomed two longtime friends to join her: one on french horn, the other on cello.
A 60-minute set, with thousands of hours behind it. A lifetime of peaks and valleys leading to this milestone, with a lifetime of ordinary days and faithful commitment still ahead long after the evening’s applause fades.
She’s one of those people who comes alive on stage. It’s a joy to witness. Even before a single note is sung, her presence shifts. Ever an actress, she inhabits the words she sings.
On the back of the evening’s program was an acknowledgements section. Her attempt, however incomplete, to name the many who shaped her. Teachers who invested their own thousands of hours, mentors and musicians who found a way to live inside their love of music in a world that still achingly longs for song.
Amid selections in French, Italian, and German (even I recognized the name Handel), there were two songs in English. From the first few lines, I recognized her first song, “How Can I Keep From Singing.”
The writer in me was delighted to find program notes for each piece, along with printed lyrics. This translates into biography, story, and poetry all in one. And yet, this song refuses to be neatly summarized.
Originally a Christian hymn from the mid-19th century, “How Can I Keep From Singing” later found new life as an American folksong in the 1960s. It has crossed genres and generations, carried by a wide range of voices - Keith and Kristyn Getty, Martin Sheen, Enya, Chris Tomlin, and the Muppet, Rowlf the Dog, to name a few. In the 1970s, it first appeared in the popular Catholic Glory & Praise hymnal, is beloved among Quakers, and continues to echo through many corners of the Church.
The original melody was composed by Baptist minister Robert Lowry, while lyrics were attributed to a Pauline T, first appearing in print in The New York Observer in 1868. Nearly a century later, author and songwriter Doris Plenn, who had learned the original hymn from her Quaker grandmother, added one of its most enduring verses:
“When tyrants tremble sick with fear, and hear their death knells ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near, how can I keep from singing?”
A testament to a song’s ability to transcend time, place, and persuasion.
The bookends of this special evening hint at a deeper story, and I found that especially beautiful. Before us stood a woman who kept singing, no matter what life brought. She closed with “Dream With Me,” written by American composer Leonard Berstein for the stage production of Peter Pan (though it didn’t make it into the final production).
In that final piece, Rebekah encouraged us to dream with her, tonight and every night, as the future stretches wide before us.
Bravo my friend. From your own penned acknowledgments: “Praise and thanks to the creator of all good things, who put a song in my heart and has faithfully guided me every step of the way.”
—————
Traci Rhoades is a faith writer who advocates for an integrated life rooted in Christ. Her family of three loves living near the beach towns of Lake Michigan.
