Sotho Hymn 63 «2024»

Father Michael sighed, lighting a single candle. “Then why are you here?”

“I was a boy in the choir,” Mofokeng said, his voice a low rumble. “Under the old mango tree, before this church was built. The deacon taught us Morena Jesu, ke rata ho phela – Lord Jesus, I want to live. Hymn 63. I have sung it for baptisms, for weddings, for the funerals of both my sons. The melody was a path in the dark. Tonight, I lay down to sleep, and the path was gone. The words… silence. Only the wind.” sotho hymn 63

Mofokeng opened his eyes. He looked at the baby. The child’s breathing had deepened. The flush on his cheeks was softening. Mamello wept quietly, but now it was the weeping of relief. Father Michael sighed, lighting a single candle

She left. The heavy door closed.

The old man looked up. His eyes were the colour of wet slate. “Because Hymn 63 has left my head.” The deacon taught us Morena Jesu, ke rata