The First Song

Not long ago I wrote about “My Last Song,” which is the last song on my new collection of homemade music, Crimson Sky on New Year’s Morn, heading to your favorite streaming and/or downloading service on May 19. 

“If this will be my last song, may it be of peace and love; may it be a song of Jesus and blessings from above,” I sang, and I wrote about how we never know if we’re doing something for the last time.

“If this will be my last song — if this will be my last day — if this will be my last blog post — if I treated every venture as if it’s the last — and what do I want to do with it?” I wrote. “Let it be about peace and love, let it call attention to Jesus, let it encourage those who need encouragement and lift their spirits.”

When I posted the post on Facebook, my dear cousin commented, “But what if it could be your first, not last — First song this morning? I get it. I just don’t want you to stop.”

That got me to thinking: When God said, “Let there be music,” what would the first song have sounded like? My pastor friend recently shared the ancient words of Augustine describing Christians: “We are Easter People, and our song is ‘Alleluia.’” Well, of course the first song would be “Alleluia,” or “Praise God.”

I have been leaning pretty hard lately on a familiar chord progression — C, Am, F, G — which appears in so many songs it probably could have been the very first chord progression. It also lends itself to all sorts of classic harmonies.

Toss all those thoughts into a bag and shake gently, and out came this little worship song, or anthem, or however you might want to describe it.

The First Song (Easter People)

In the beginning God said, “Let there be music,”
And there was music.
In the beginning God said, “Let there be song,”
And there was song.

And the song was “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,”
We sang “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,”
The first song was “Alleluia.”

In the beginning God said, “Let there be music,”
And there was music.
In the beginning God said, “Let there be song,”
And there was song.

And the song was “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,”
We sang “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,”
The first song was “Alleluia.”

We are Easter People, and our song is “Alleluia.”
We are Jesus People, and our song is “Alleluia.”

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
The first song was “Alleluia.”

We are Easter People, and our song is “Alleluia.”
We are Jesus People, and our song is “Alleluia.”

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
The first song was “Alleluia.”

©2026 w.p. bluhm

W.B. at the Movies rocking and rolling

This is my week for learning more about seventies rock. I took to Netflix the last few days to watch Bohemian Rhapsody, the fine docudrama about Freddie Mercury and the rest of Queen, and then Becoming Led Zeppelin, the new documentary about that band’s formative years.

A common denominator in both stories is the value of collaboration and how the contributions of all four band members creates a greater whole. Jimmy Page talked about the importance of being able to hear what everyone is doing as the songs were mixed. Guitarist Page and singer Robert Plant were the “front men,” but Led Zeppelin would never have been Led Zeppelin without bassist John Paul Jones and drummer John Bonham laying down the foundation.

And there’s a key moment in the Queen saga where Freddie goes off as a solo artist and comes back to his friends after it does not go as well as he hoped. He delivers a heartfelt monologue about realizing that he had become FREDDIE MERCURY because of the push-and-pull, the creative friction with his bandmates.

Somewhere in there I heard the observation that great rock bands don’t fail, they break up. These films about two great bands illustrate that dynamic — when everyone contributes as a unit, magic happens, as long as the individuals can keep their egos in check.

These two films tell powerful stories about the power of creative collaboration.

A surge of entropy

This is a wanna / don’t wanna day. I want to do all the things that must be done, and I want to crawl back into bed. When will I mate the desires of my heart to the actions of my body? I’m ready to erect wondrous structures and grow fabulous gardens, but I seem to have erectile dysfunction. How do I push through the mope? If the certain knowledge that time is running out doesn’t motivate me, then what’s it going to take?

Once the biological clock ticks past 70, most every morning is a reminder that you have more mornings behind you than ahead. Everything is still doable, you just need more rest after the doing — but the urge to keep resting is powerful.

One foot in front of the other, and repeat, repeat, until it’s automatic and you’re in the zone and in the rhythm, a-rocking and a-rolling, feeling capable of anything. But then comes the resting, and the resting is so comfortable. Maybe I can walk those miles tomorrow and a little more on the day after tomorrow.

This much I know: I don’t know much. All the knowledge I’ve accumulated over the years is a fraction of what there is to know. And anyway, if I’m so smart, why ain’t I rich? Yeah, yeah, I know, I know I’m wealthier than most of the world’s humans by accident of birth. I was born on third base and I think I’ve hit a triple and all that.

And yet I still worry about the bills and the gimpy knee and how am I going to take care of this and that, and yes I know about the lilies of the field and the sparrows, so maybe I should seek the kingdom so all of these things will come. Yep, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll seek his kingdom, right after I rest for awhile.

And that’s how to just fade away, my fellow old people. Let that be an example to you young ’uns, too. No life is wasted, you can always serve as a bad example.

This is the season of verdant green. The flowers’ yellow is visible at the end of their stems, and they may burst at any moment, perhaps even today.

Last summer’s remains are covering the new growth and eager to be swept away — let my arms do the sweeping — I’ve rested enough, time for spring cleaning and the fresh coats of paint and all the other doings to be done!

This first cup of coffee still waits to be finished, though, and I have my morning puzzles ahead. Yes, just a little more rest, and before I know it, day is done and time for bed.

I’m exaggerating. Miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep. The nice part about seeking the kingdom of God is you don’t have to look very far to realize you’re already living there, if you know where to look. And in springtime it’s all around us.