This is one where I grew increasingly frustrated listening to different versions. I just wanted to hear two voices in harmony singing the song simply, as close to the version I learned at church camp in 1966 and sang with my folkie friends 1970-74.
Our first son went into the hospital at two weeks old in 1979 with Failure To Thrive, and he was hooked up to much equipment and we we only allowed to touch him gingerly. We poured water over his foot to baptise him, as that was what we were allowed to touch. And we sang with our hearts in our throats, softly and deep into the night, the nurses weeping to hear us will him back to life. They would come by and listen, one would join in for a verse when she could, on this song and a few others. Seven years later, a nurse at the hospital I worked at mentioned why she couldn't work pedi and switched to psych instead, telling this story. That was us, I told her. He's fine now and has a younger brother.
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