I once attended for a time a village church 175 years old who, having recently lost their organist of 46 years his hands crippled knotted, hired a lovely young male musician with supple spidery fingers who knew no hymnal music so instead played classical.
It turned out his knowledge of those also limited so he repeated most Sunday mornings. It was such a lovely very old church still standing in a bustling town that had left a century before. I'd sit back in the creaky hand hewn pews, morning light streaming through the most beautiful creeping vines stained glass, transported. Beethoven's 9th souring.
My mind singing along the words....the words?
"This night is mine
It's only you and i
Is a long time away
This night can last forever"
with apologies to Billy Joel