"As I studied [the Bible's astounding scientific truth] during the summer of '01, an old hymn took up residence in my head. It was a long-forgotten hymn, one that represented what had to be some of my earliest memories.
"It was 'This Is My Father’s World,' written in 1901 by a New York pastor named Maltbie D. Babcock. (Scroll down for Fernando Ortega's rendition.)
"I remember singing this song as a little girl, sitting with my Sunday School classmates in front of the dark gothic sanctuary of Union Congregational Church in Green Bay. I probably wasn’t the only one who felt a little thrill as soon as I recognized the melody the organist was playing, delighted that we were once again singing this beautiful song about my Daddy:
This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
"And I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who turned to look for my Daddy. I remember it clearly, spotting him on the other side of the aisle, standing next to Momma and beaming back at me as I waved to him with my little white-gloved hand and sang with great gusto:
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.
"Now here I was, 30 years after his death, hearing the song over and over in my head, remembering him, and realizing that the hand we’d sung about hadn’t been my Daddy’s after all."
From Heaven Without Her, pages 157-158
"It was 'This Is My Father’s World,' written in 1901 by a New York pastor named Maltbie D. Babcock. (Scroll down for Fernando Ortega's rendition.)
"I remember singing this song as a little girl, sitting with my Sunday School classmates in front of the dark gothic sanctuary of Union Congregational Church in Green Bay. I probably wasn’t the only one who felt a little thrill as soon as I recognized the melody the organist was playing, delighted that we were once again singing this beautiful song about my Daddy:
This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
"And I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who turned to look for my Daddy. I remember it clearly, spotting him on the other side of the aisle, standing next to Momma and beaming back at me as I waved to him with my little white-gloved hand and sang with great gusto:
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.
"Now here I was, 30 years after his death, hearing the song over and over in my head, remembering him, and realizing that the hand we’d sung about hadn’t been my Daddy’s after all."
From Heaven Without Her, pages 157-158
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