My song-writing debut began, not by setting words to music, but by writing words for another’s melodies. In May 1969, when Colin Murphy and I were students together preparing for ordination, he approached me with a tune he’d composed with guitar accompaniment. Peter, a mutual friend who knew I wrote poetry, had suggested to him I might be willing to pen some words for it. After tape-recording Colin singing the tune (no MP3 in those days) I played it over and over again, absorbed it through meditation and wrote the message it spoke to me – a prayer entitled Make me free. Colin liked it. Using the same compositional formula, Where are the sorrows followed in November that year.
By now I was beginning to question the direction of my life and facing something of a personal crisis. Into this painful difficult period Colin burst enthusiastically with “I’ve got a new tune – could you write some words, perhaps with a refrain?” The last thing I felt was creative. But I knew that if I did not respond immediately it would not be written. “Slowly, painfully, disinterestedly” (as my journal records) Close to you, universally known by its first line I watch the sunrise, came to birth on 27th January 1970. It felt anything but a hit.
Neither of us dreamed at the time that this song, first published in 20th Century Folk Hymnal vol 2 in 1975, would travel the world. It has featured in television soaps such as Coronation Street, on the soundtrack of an Australian film, been recorded by popular artists including Daniel O’Donnell. As a hymn it is a popular choice for weddings and funerals; its message is universal. When the crew of a US space shuttle including a teacher perished, it was chosen for the national service of remembrance. In Britain it has played a part each year in the Hillsborough disaster memorial service, and more recently the Manchester bombing commemoration.
I believe I watch the sunrise gets chosen for these occasions not because it is sad (it isn’t) but because it is full of hope and trust in God. It celebrates the triumph of light over darkness, a constant 24-hour presence of our God who is always there for us and invites us to be alive to his presence. In 1970 I did not realise that. But it seems God did. It is sheer gift.
27th January 2020 Close to you / I watch the sunrise marked its 50th birthday. It’s a milestone worth marking, although tinged with a note of sadness as Colin Murphy, composer of that haunting melody, will not be with us, as he died in October 2018. May he rest in peace.
