I watch the sunrise ...

The sun appeared over the Inverclyde hills just as I looked out this morning, occasioning another suicidal "hing" out of the window and triggering memories of the first time I knew there was a hymn called "I watch the sunrise". I was singing in our quartet at the funeral of my dearest friend and he'd chosen this hymn which he'd come across in his last year to end his funeral mass - presumably because he too had this view from his bedroom.

It's indelibly burned into my memory because it's what finished my composure to such an extent that I couldn't sing another note - so it's as well it was the last hymn. I'd managed a solo verse in a Breton folk song (the English translation had been put into metre by my friend, the arrangement was by Mr PB); I'd sung the Kontakion for the Departed; I'd kept my cool and my voice through all the words and the weeping of others, but this sentimental hymn was too much.

I've never sung it since; never been anywhere to hear it sung. It's clearly very popular, but not in my usual circles. And every time I see this particular spectacle, there it is, playing away inside my head. 

Footnote: this was about 8.30am. I reckon it'll be 9am by the time we reach the shortest day - I used to be greeted by the sunrise as I entered my classroom in the old days.