Prologue

There is an old story about a preacher and deacon fishing. It has been told by so many so often that identifying an original author seems quite impossible. Perhaps fiction, though most likely not, it is undeniably legend.

On a footbridge spanning a narrow creek a preacher and his deacon fished. Every time brother deacon got a bite the fish would scatter and he would curse loudly.

“Brother, should you curse like that with me here,” the preacher admonished, “over some fish?”

The deacon agreed and they fished on with Brother Deacon losing more fish. Finally a really big one got away. The deacon, remembering the agreement, clamped his lips. He looked at his empty pole, but held his tongue. He looked toward the water in time to see that big fish tail break surface. Shaking his head, he turned to the preacher and remarked, “Reverend, something needs to be said.”

As I sit and consider the legendary, Letha, I can’t begin to arrange and order the grand words and lofty sentences to adequately and accurately tell her story or describe her grandeur. The mere mention of her name demands a response.

At this moment I am in turmoil. Her physical presence is gone from me, yet her spirit, love and wisdom remain and comfort me. My grief is not yet realized, but it won’t last long because I must celebrate she was here at all. There will be moments of heartache during which I will cry for missing her, but the fine memories she made will stir my soul to gladness.

She blessed and graced my life. I can’t keep it to myself and look forward to telling the world. She loved the hymn, My Faith Looks Up To Thee. Reflecting on her extraordinary life, I understand why. You will too.

My faith looks up to Thee,
Thou Lamb of Calvary, Savior divine!
Now hear me while I pray, take all my guilt away,
O let me from this day be wholly Thine!

May Thy rich grace impart
Strength to my fainting heart, my zeal inspire!
As Thou hast died for me, O may my love to Thee,
Pure warm, and changeless be, a living fire!

While life’s dark maze I tread,
And griefs around me spread, be Thou my Guide;
Bid darkness turn to day, wipe sorrow’s tears away,
Nor let me ever stray from Thee aside.

When ends life’s transient dream,
When death’s cold sullen stream over me roll;
Blest Savior, then in love, fear and distrust remove;
O bear me safe above, a ransomed soul!

Text: Ray Palmer, 1808-1887
Music: Lowell Mason, 1792-1872
Tune: OLIVET, Meter: 664.6664