A few months later, Easter of 1937, I conducted on the smooth lawns at Encinitas the first of many Sunrise Services. Like the magi of old, several hundred students gazed in devotional awe at the daily miracle, the early solar fire rite in the eastern sky. I set to English words and Western musical notation about forty songs, some original, others my adaptations of ancient melodies. For a preface to the songbook I recounted my first outstanding experience with the receptivity of Westerners to the quaintly devotional airs of the East. I had laughingly disagreed.
Music is a universal language.
Americans will not fail to feel the soul-aspiration in this lofty chant. During the lecture Mr. Hunsicker had sat behind me on the platform, probably fearing for my safety. Divine healings had taken place that evening among the devotees chanting with love the Lord's blessed name. The secluded life of a literary minstrel was not my role for long. Soon I was dividing every fortnight between Los Angeles and Encinitas.