Song Of The Smithy

O come, let us sing unto the LORD: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation. (Psalm 95:1)

There was a time in my life when my best friend was an 80-year-old Amish blacksmith named Simon Swartzentruber. I used to hang around his shop day after day. My grandfather had been a blacksmith and I wanted to learn a little about the trade. Simon was more than happy to teach me and, besides, he appreciated the help and liked my company. I think one of the main reasons he put up with the Englisch (that was me!) was because I knew almost as many old hymns as he did.

I had heard the Old-Line Amish almost never sang at their meetings, so it was a great surprise that when I began singing "Shall We Gather At The River" one day, Simon joined in. Then he started in with a rousing chorus of "How Firm A Foundation". And on and on it went. We would be making iron tires for buggy wheels, repairing plowshares, or whatever, and singing at the tops of our voices.

Curiosity was burning me up. "Simon," I asked, "where did you learn all those hymns?" He looked at me though his pale gray eyes. Sweat dripped down his long, white beard, and glistened in the ruddy glow of the forge. Suddenly his mouth turned up in a knowing grin. He raised his hammer above his head and brought it down heavily on a piece of white-hot metal, scattering sparks in every direction... And started singing another hymn.

Obviously he wasn't about to divulge his precious secrets to an Englisch.

For months I sweated with Ol' Simon in his shop -- right up until the day he suffered his stroke. He died a month later in the same bed in which he had been born.

Although that was many years ago, I still think of Simon often and I can still hear his cracked baritone voice belting out those old hymns, with me trying to keep up. I can still hear the ring of our hammers on steel which echoed through that smoky old shop, often keeping time with the tune we were singing. It was one of the sunniest times of my life.

Now Simon has gone home to his Father in Heaven. I just hope the Ancient of Days enjoys that old man as much as I did.

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Ed Price spent 35 years in print and broadcast journalism. He is author of 15 books. After becoming an ordained minister he settled with his wife on a farm in the mountains of Southwest Virginia, to study God's word and to write. Ed and Patty are the parents of three girls, have one grandchild, and cater to the every whim of two spoiled cats.
© 2008 Ed Price - All rights reserved. Visit his website, The Loving Heart.

This column is used with permission.