Autumn’s Trumpet Blast

My favorite time of the year is autumn when the foliage turns resplendent. Present me a sweeping woodland robed in blazing yellows and oranges and reds, and my soul sings.

There’s something spiritual about it, something transcendent. Indeed, fall’s radiance is known, by countless souls caught up in its wonder, to lift one’s sights above the frontiers of the everyday world and point to a magnificence beyond itself.

And, as for what this indicated other is, I know of no more truthful an answer than the one literally trumpeted in an experience Robert Raines relates.

Head of a retreat and conference center in the Poconos, Raines was driving over a mountain early one fall morning, running an errand. With the air crisp, he rolled his window down to breathe in its purity. And winding his way up, he kept feasting his eyes on the scenery below, imbibing the splendor. 

When his car reached the summit where the road turned sharply left to begin its descent, he saw a sports car parked just off the road. And what he saw and heard next – well, it moves me every time I think about it.

Overlooking the valley awash in autumn’s glory, was a young man dressed as a hippie, wearing a ponytail. And standing there, his legs wide apart, holding a trumpet pressed to his lips, he proclaimed with musical flair:

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;

Praise him, all creatures here below;

Praise him above ye heavenly host;

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Warner F. Davis a retired Presbyterian pastor. Warner has released a spiritual memoir titled, “Peace in a Mad Dog World: Finding Security When My Need For Control had Failed Me,” through Virtual bookworm Publishing. For more information about his book, visit



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