My Jesus, I Love Thee

I can never sing this hymn without remembering Sister Enid Loo. She became a second mother to my twin brother and me, and her influence on our musical journey—and on the trajectory of our lives—has been deep, lasting, and wholly positive.

Sis. Loo was a matriarch of the church: quiet and understated, yet with an oversized influence. For many years she served as Sabbath School director, choir leader and accompanist, teacher, VBS leader, Dorcas Society leader, and church treasurer. Of Chinese heritage, she had been a successful entrepreneur and had retired to a comfortable life, much of which she spent helping others. She was stylish, never married, without children of her own, known for her beautiful home, her hats, and her attire. She was of the “old school,” did not suffer fools gladly, and was an avowed disciplinarian. Family and friends knew to be on their P’s and Q’s. Her words could be sharp and direct; many adults feared her. Yet she was the most renowned children’s leader and storyteller of her time. She could settle fussy children in a moment, and parents did not hesitate to invoke her name. Children adored her.

My brother and I came into close association with her through faithful work at the church. Small vacation chores at her home grew into inseparable bonds; we became more than family. Sis. Loo kept a well-tuned Yamaha piano and, as a classically trained pianist, played hymns and popular classical pieces morning and evening without fail. Neighbours relished the music. For us it was an introduction: in those days children were to be seen and not heard, and touching the church piano was one of the taboos that could earn a swift correction. Under her roof we took our first tentative steps at the keyboard.

She insisted that if you were going to do something, you should do it right; excellence was the goal. Wonderful times followed. Sometimes, while she took her mid-afternoon nap, we would experiment on the piano. Invariably when she emerged she would recall hearing something that was not quite right and ask that it be replayed. Sure enough, the phrasing or the timing would be off. It was a tremendous blessing. The official church musician, the appropriately named Mr. Best, lived on a lower floor of her building and often joined us with his family for Sabbath vespers. Occasionally Professor Anderson would add his piano pieces. Music and conversation stretched long past vespers, often settling the programme for church the next day.

“My Jesus, I Love Thee” was one of Sis. Loo’s go-to hymns—a song she had loved from her own mother. She sang it well and often, with a beautiful descant that I have associated with the hymn ever since. Her love for Jesus was true, evident, and demonstrated. She was a benefactor to many and mentored generations of children and musicians. She was, in the deepest sense, married to Jesus. Thus the line “For Thee all the follies of sin I resign” became, for us, a poignant testimony of a life already given.