OldiesButGoodies

Country

Rhonda Vincent – I Heard My Saviour Calling Me

Rhonda Vincent - I Heard My Saviour Calling Me (Live) - YouTube

Introduction:

“I Heard My Savior Calling Me” is a powerful gospel song performed by renowned bluegrass musician Rhonda Vincent. The song’s origins can be traced back to the hymn “I Heard My Savior Calling Me,” composed by William J. Gaither in 1964. Gaither’s hymn has been a staple in Christian music for decades, resonating with listeners through its heartfelt lyrics and uplifting message of faith and salvation.

Rhonda Vincent’s rendition of the song showcases her exceptional vocal abilities and her deep connection to bluegrass music. Her powerful voice, combined with the intricate instrumentation of her band, The Rage, creates a captivating and emotionally resonant performance. Vincent’s interpretation of the song not only honors its original message but also infuses it with a unique bluegrass flavor, making it a beloved addition to her repertoire.

The song’s enduring popularity is a testament to its timeless message of hope and redemption. It continues to inspire and uplift listeners of all ages and backgrounds, reminding them of the transformative power of faith and the unwavering love of God.

Video:

https://youtu.be/bCww3m-MmJc?si=3-jdN9kYnyPCX-qa

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On April 6, 2016 — the very day he turned 79 — Merle Haggard took his final breath after calmly telling his family, “Today’s the day.” No dramatic hospital chaos. No public spectacle. Just a man who had always lived on his own terms choosing to meet the end the same way. His departure was as deliberate and unshaken as the outlaw spirit that defined him. While the world mourned, Haggard exited quietly — steady, self-possessed, unapologetically himself. And though his voice fell silent that day, it never truly faded. Through songs like “Sing Me Back Home,” his legacy still echoes — raw, haunting, and impossible to forget.

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THE LAST TIME THE CROWD ROSE FOR MERLE HAGGARD — HE WOULD NEVER WALK ONSTAGE AGAIN. They carried him through the doors wrapped in the very flag he once sang about — and in the stillness that followed, there was something almost audible… a fragile echo only lifelong listeners could feel in their bones. Merle Haggard’s story closed the same way it opened: unpolished, honest, and deeply human. From being born in a converted boxcar during the Great Depression to commanding the grandest stages across America, his life unfolded like a country ballad etched in grit, regret, resilience, and redemption. Every lyric he sang carried the weight of lived experience — prison walls, hard roads, blue-collar truths, and hard-earned second chances. Those who stood beside his casket said the atmosphere felt thick, as if the room itself refused to forget the sound of his voice. It wasn’t just grief in the air — it was reverence. A stillness reserved for someone whose music had become stitched into the fabric of ordinary lives. One of his sons leaned close and murmured, “He didn’t really leave us. He’s just playing somewhere higher.” And perhaps that’s the only explanation that makes sense. Because artists like Merle don’t simply vanish. They transform. They become the crackle of an AM radio drifting through a late-night highway. They become the soundtrack of worn leather seats and long stretches of open road. They live in jukebox corners, in dance halls, in quiet kitchens where memories linger longer than the coffee. Somewhere tonight, a trucker tunes in to an old melody. Somewhere, an aging cowboy lowers his hat and blinks back tears. And somewhere in that gentle hum of steel guitar and sorrow, a whisper carries through: “Merle’s home.”

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