
My Uncle Bud has often said that no gospel music worth singing has been written since the Great Depression. I imagine my Great-Aunt Kathleen would've agreed with him. That's her in the picture, purse and Bible in hand. She's dressed for summer and wearing a corsage, so I have to wonder if this might've been taken on Mother's Day. Aunt Kathleen is crossing Highway 25 in Harpersville, Alabama, en route to the old First Baptist sanctuary from some buildings that held spillover Sunday School classes back when the congregation was growing so fast that they couldn't contain it on the church campus.
I've been thinking about old-time religion as I look through some vintage songbooks that a couple of friends recently gave me. One of the books is called Celestial Echoes, published in 1943 (if I'm reading those Roman numerals correctly) by Elder R.E. Winsett of Dayton, Tennessee. There's a picture of the Winsett family on the front page: a rather stern (or maybe just shy) Elder Winsett; his pretty, smiling wife, Ruth; and their three children, Ruth Naomi, Harold Gene, and little Marilyn Anita, who looks about five years old. I can imagine the Winsetts performing together at all-day singings and church homecomings, likely with Ruth at the piano. Celestial Echoes sold for 30 cents per copy "limp" (which I guess meant paperback). And Elder Winsett included this request: "If you like this book, tell your friends about it, if you don't like it, tell me." Fair enough.
Most of the songs in this collection were written before 1940, so they meet Uncle Bud's benchmark for greatness. I love the way old-fashioned gospel music relates the earthly to the divine. There are songs like "The Royal Telephone" and "The Heavenly Aeroplane": Ho, ye weary of ev'ry tribe, Get your ticket for this aeroplane ride; Jesus our Saviour is coming to reign, And take us up to Glory in His heav'nly aeroplane.
My friend Jane, our church organist, finds all kinds of music at thrift stores. She recently gave me several books from the Stamps Baxter and Singspiration series that I grew up with. Most of these songs (cover your ears, Uncle Bud) were written post-Depression, in the fifties, sixties, and seventies. This is the music that was popular when I was learning to play for church—Gaither tunes like "Something Beautiful" and "I Just Feel Like Something Good Is About to Happen" and songs by Ralph Carmichael and John W. Peterson, both of whom were favorites of my piano teacher, Jenny Glenn. Like Uncle Bud, Mrs. Glenn had very high standards—she wanted a beautiful melody, rich harmony, and meaningful lyrics that were Scripturally sound. (Mrs. Glenn was a preacher's wife. If the lyrics weren't Biblical, she would have none of it.)
There's a name written on the title page of Jane's books: Vivian Aultman. Vivan's handwriting reminds me of Mrs. Glenn's—neat, elegant, and scripted. She circles the numbers of songs she likes and indicates whether they were "choir" or "solo." I suspect Vivan was a church musician, and while I hope someone with such an ear for great songs is still with us, I doubt that she is because she never would've let these books leave her piano bench. I trust Vivan's taste in music. And I wish I could've heard her play. I think she would be pleased to know that Jane and I often play one of her picks, number 69 in the Stamps Baxter Gospel Hymnal Volume II. Like that "Royal Telephone" and "Heavenly Aeroplane," it presents the beauty of divine union in earthly terms—and it's Biblically based, so Mrs. Glenn would approve:
I'm satisfied with just a cottage below,
A little silver and a little gold;
But in that city where the ransomed will shine,
I want a gold one that's silver-lined.
Don't think me poor or deserted or lonely—
I'm not discouraged, I'm heaven bound,
I'm just a pilgrim in search of a city,
I want a mansion, a harp, and a crown.
I've got a mansion just over the hilltop,
In that bright land where we'll never grow old;
And some day yonder we will nevermore wander
But walk the streets that are purest gold.
[from "Mansion Over the Hilltop" by Ira F. Stanphill, 1949]