8/2/23

I’ve really enjoyed hearing your camp meeting memories! Everyone I spoke with got misty eyed as they talked about camp meeting in places like Reform, AL, Warsaw, OH, or Anderson, IN. And it was always the same . . . the preaching was wonderful, the fellowship was sweet . . . but the music, especially, was unforgettable.  

At camp meeting, you showed up expecting to sing exciting, “soul-stirring” music. In the mid-1800s, when camp meetings began to spring up across the nation, the popular music of the time had a ragged feel to it (it was “ragtime,” but don’t tell anyone), so many of the songs associated with camp meetings and revivals had a sort of galloping kind of rhythm  (“When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound and time shall be no more”) that makes you think it was written while the composer was riding a horse! 

A lot of camp meeting music came from a shared body of songs that pretty well everyone could sing from memory. It was certainly the case within denominations; no matter which Methodist church or Baptist camp meeting you attended, you’d know the songs. And there were many well-loved songs and hymns that crossed denominational lines – songs like “Amazing Grace” and “Blessed Assurance.”  Those were the bedrock of camp meeting music. 

But also when we got to our old, wooden pew, we’d find the complementary funeral home fan resting atop a paperback songbook filled with new songs written especially for revivals and camp meetings. 

In the days before phonographs and radios . . . how did people sing these new songs? 

From the 1700’s through the mid-1900s, people were far more musically literate than they are now thanks to “Singing Schools.” These schools, which started in New England and later spread throughout the South, taught people how to read music (mostly in “shaped notes” – more about that another time), so that in the remote mountains of North Carolina or in communities tucked into the hills and hollers of Alabama, even the most “back-woods” person could pick up that new songbook and sing with confidence. 

And sing loudly. Camp Meeting singing was known for its joyful singing that would echo through the surrounding countryside. 

There’s a knack to directing camp meeting singing (and if the following sounds manipulative, it was). A seasoned music leader knew how to layer the music to achieve a particular level of excitement with something like “Follow On” or  “When We All Get to Heaven,” then rapidly reverse gears and bring a tear to the eye with a heart-warming and well-placed “Tis so Sweet to Trust in Jesus.”

Camp meeting music demanded a response. After the sermons, there was always an altar call, where songs like “Just as I Am” or “Lost Forever” were sung to get people to think seriously about their eternal destiny. When I was a kid, every time we sang “Lost Forever” I’d get saved again. I mean, honestly, you’re 8 years old and you’re singing: “If when you’re lost and forgotten, writhing in flames of despair, you (and the “you” was printed in italics!) will remember you’ve chosen to be there. Lost forever, lost forever. O how sad.” 

It’s no wonder I was born again and again at camp meeting  . . . and again at the next camp meeting! 

But most of the camp meeting songs were like “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,” and “Standing On the Promises” – joyful expressions of the Christian life. 

I remember one memorable service from my  Kentucky piano-playing days. The director was one of my favorites, Ero Moore (I called him “my hero Ero”). He gave me a list of songs ending with “His Yoke is Easy.” He told me we would sing all four verses, then repeat the chorus a couple of times, each time going up a half-step higher. The way it’s written, the soprano gets pretty high to begin with, so I had to start playing it several steps lower than it was written so we could reach the stratosphere by the end. The song, with its strong downbeat on a percussive “yoke” (“His YOKE! is easy”) was a camp meeting favorite anyway, and if people didn’t know it before, they certainly would by the time we were done with it! 

The service had already reached a fevered pitch after 20 minutes or so of joyous, enthusiastic singing, but the energy continued to climb higher and higher as the refrain of “His Yoke is Easy” climbed higher and higher (and got louder and louder). We reached the end of the last refrain, “His service is my sweetest delight,” with the notes about as high as anyone could croak, and Ero’s directing got broader and slower, a clenched fist pounding the air, emphasizing each word of “His blessings e - - ver flow!” And just as everyone thought we were finished (me included, but, hey, I’m just the pianist), unannounced, he launched into “This is my story, this is my song” and the tabernacle exploded! I’ll never forget it. 

Ero told me later, “You have to be careful with “Blessed Assurance” and “Amazing Grace.” They can be dangerous.” 

No, there was nothing like singing at a camp meeting! I’ve been to services where the movement of the Spirit was so strong, the preacher never preached. The words of the music moved the people so much that, especially with an extended time of prayer and tears at the altar, the evangelist would stand and say, “There’s no need for me to preach tonight. God has spoken.” (That’s possible only through the prayers of the saints, so if you want it, it’s going to cost you time on your knees). 

And, yes, I miss those days. They had their pluses and minuses (did I mention emotional manipulation?), but the intention behind the music was always pure; the praise was genuine, and like another of the old songs says, I fully expect to experience worship like that again, united with believers on another shore:
 

“Yes, I’ll sing the wondrous story
Of the Christ who died for me
Sing it with the saints in glory
Gathered by the crystal sea.”