The Hymn

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We sang the last song—Children of the Heavenly Father—in Swedish, as we had each night of our short choir tour. The church was full, so the old man stood through the entire concert, listening from behind the pews. As we sang Tryggare kan ingen vara, he wept. In that moment it seemed that music turned into memory, and sound became water, and tears were transmuted into the wine of communion. Suddenly I was part of something holy. I don’t know what he saw beneath his tears; but for a moment, seeing him see it, I believed in God.