Last Sunday, I was warming up the organ for the morning service. The church musicians – the pianist, who's the lady in charge, and the guitarist, who was also leading the singing this week, were rearranging the music because of last-minute changes in the schedule. The preaching team had decided to move Communion up to earlier in the service so that the congregation could end the hour by praying silently (with piano music) for the USA. That's because, with today's election coming up, they figured prayer wouldn't hurt.

'We really should do something patriotic,' mused the pianist. 'Veteran's Day is the 11th.'

The guitarist and I had the exact same thought. Simultaneously, we broke into 'O Canada'.

Fortunately, nobody else heard us except the Sound Guy, and he wasn't paying attention to the content.

I ended up playing America the Beautiful. I hope our organ sounded nearly this good, but it's hard to tell up close. I'll have to wait for the recording. We also sang the Navy Hymn, Eternal Father, Strong to Save.

So, with the presidential election underway, I thought it might be appropriate to play something apocalyptic today.

Shall We Gather somewhere other than the polling place?

People write hymns for many different reasons. Alas, one of the reasons 19th-century hymnodists wrote hymns was that they got worried about something, fell asleep, were uncomfortable because of indigestion, illness, or hot weather, and had a Funny Dream. I'm not making this up. Some of our best-loved hymns got written this way.

Rev Robert Lowry of Philadelphia and Brooklyn wrote:

One afternoon in July, 1864, when I was pastor at Hanson Place Baptist Church, Brooklyn, the weather was oppressively hot, and I was lying on a lounge in a state of physical exhaustion. . . . My imagination began to take itself wings. Visions of the future passed before me with startling vividness. The imagery of the apocalypse took the form of a tableau. Brightest of all were the throne, the heavenly river, and the gathering of the saints. . . .

Robert Lowry, quoted in C. Michael Hawn, 'History of Hymns: Apocalyptic vision leads to famous 19th-century hymn'

There's a background to the dream Rev Lowry had. In the 19th Century, millions of Christians had no problem visualising the future as a bright time when Jesus would reign on earth. They looked forward to it. But they had two problems which I think are theological no-brainers for those of us who don't live in the 19th Century. The first was that they envisioned this New World Order as looking exactly like their world, only nicer. Because, of course, the 19th Century represented the pinnacle of human achievement. Ahem.

The second problem was the interesting one. 19th-century Protestants were terribly worried about whether they would be reunited with their loved ones in the next world. We can understand this. Early deaths were common, particularly in the US during the Civil War. Pretty much 100% of adult humans had lost many people they loved to disease or violence: parents, siblings, partners, children. . . Understandably, they wanted to believe they would see them again. So they asked, 'Will we know one another in Heaven?' It was a real question.

Personally, my answer to this is: no, not like that. Think about it. If the next version of the world is better, how could we possibly enjoy it with our existing personalities and cultural prejudices? Also, who needs all that baggage? And just because you want to see your wife again, Mr Smith, maybe she doesn't want to see you. You were bossy and overbearing, and you wouldn't even let her have the vote. Phooey on you, Mrs Smith is off to join a women's consciousness-raising group led by Miriam, Deborah, and Susan B Anthony. They have big plans.

But we can sympathise completely with those people who were ready to cross over, just because they missed their family so much. And we can still enjoy Rev Lowry's hymn, which is Shall We Gather at the River? Whether you take that vision literally – real river, real moment – or metaphorically – a description of a much more complex plan – the words can still move you:

Yes, we’ll gather at the river,

The beautiful, the beautiful river;

Gather with the saints at the river

That flows by the throne of God.

The song's familiar, right? You've heard the art song version by Aaron Copland, maybe, or the weird version by Charles Ives. Or heard it in a movie soundtrack. Or even heard Ken Kesey (!) sing it at a Grateful Dead concert. To each his own version. I like Randy Travis' version.

Will the US election results manage to immanentise the eschaton? Stay tuned. But I'm sure we'll have a suitable hymn for the occasion.