The Hymn of Promise

Natalie Sleeth (1930-1992) in February 1985 wrote a choral anthem and later adapted it as the “Hymn of Promise.”  She wrote that she was “…pondering the death of a friend (life and death, death and resurrection), pondering winter and spring (seeming opposites), and a T.S. Eliot poem which had the phrase, ‘In our end is our beginning.’  These seemingly contradictory ‘pairs’ led to the thesis of the song and the hopeful message that out of one will come the other whenever God chooses to bring that about.”

Apparently God or nature decided the other day that one of the onions in the bag of onions stored  in our pantry should sprout.  I was delighted to see the green sprouts even though that particular onion was revealing itself before its season, or so it seemed to me. The other onions in the bag did not show sprouts—just the one!  I guess God or nature just chose one onion among the many to let me know that “in the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be.”  The onion reminded me of Natalie Sleeth’s Hymn of Promise and the opposites we all ponder often (life and death, good and evil, illness and health, hope and despair, winter and spring, etc.).  

If you are caught in the winter doldrums, or struggling to find meaning in all that is happening in our world, or grieving the loss of a friend, you might want to read or sing the Hymn of Promise.

In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;

In cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free!

In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

There’s a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;

There’s a dawn in every darkness, bringing hope to you and me.

From our past will come the future; what it holds, a mystery,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;

In our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity.

In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

Occasionally through something as common and mundane as a sprouting onion our eyes are opened for a little while and we get a glimpse of hope.  I’m always thankful for a glimpse, aren’t you?