Sing, my heart!

What a beautiful morning. I'm sitting in Watts Park, Southampton, looking up at a memorial statue to Isaac Watts, the eighteenth century nonconformist minister and hymn writer. You might recognise some of his greats: When I survey the wondrous cross, or Joy to the world, or maybe O God our help in ages past.

Isaac is sometimes called the Godfather of English hymnody, presumably because with his superb poetic hymn writing he offered the church a gift she couldn't refuse. Up until his day, most sung worship in churches was either psalms sung to various chants, or metrical versions of psalms set to more rhythmic tunes. Isaac almost single-handedly created the modern hymn and wrote hundreds of them; they became wildly popular in his day and inspired a new generation of Christian poets and song writers, not least the Wesleys.

And if you're here at the right times of day (I was!) the bells on the civic clock tower nearby play a verse of O God our help. Should you be so minded, you could sing along. Of course, I did.

///transmitted.defend.retire