Sixty years ago, I stood in the children’s chapel for Sunday School. We began Sunday School with 25–30 minutes of lessons and music, and that song was my favorite. I liked the cheerful tune and the insistent consistency of the long-e end rhyme. Every Sunday I hoped we’d sing that song. I enjoyed it, even though the words made little sense to me. If the writer’s theme is open eyes, then why add the hands and the key, because keys don’t “unclasp” anything?
Seriously. It kept me up at night. I loved that song, and while I sang it, illuminated by light shining through the stained-glass window, I waited to have my eyes opened to…something.