SCM
Episode 1 - Arrivals

The Small Church Music website was founded in the year 2006 by Clyde McLennan (1941-2022) an ordained Baptist Pastor. For 35 years, he served in smaller churches across New South Wales, Victoria and Tasmania. On some occasions he was also the church musician.

As a church organist, Clyde recognized it was often hard to find suitable musicians to accompany congregational singing, particularly in small churches, home groups, aged care facilities. etc. So he used his talents as a computer programmer and musician to create the Small Church Music website.

During retirement, Clyde recorded almost 15,000 hymns and songs that could be downloaded free to accompany congregational singing. He received requests to record hymns from across the globe and emails of support for this ministry from tiny churches to soldiers in war zones, and people isolating during COVID lockdowns.

Site Upgrade

TMJ Software worked with Clyde and hosted this website for him for several years prior to his passing. Clyde asked me to continue it in his absence. Clyde’s focus was to provide these recordings at no cost and that will continue as it always has. However, there will be two changes over the near to midterm.

Account Creation and Log-In
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Episode 1 - Arrivals

To better manage access to the site, a requirement to create an account on the site will be implemented. Once this is done, you’ll be able to log-in on the site and download freely as you always have.

Restructure and Redesign of the Site
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Episode 1 - Arrivals

The second change will be a redesign and restructure of the site. Since the site has many pages this won’t happen all at once but will be implement over time.

Episode 1 - Arrivals Apr 2026

The air in the terminal didn’t smell like a new beginning; it smelled like floor wax and expensive espresso.

Elias realized then that an "Arrival" isn't just the moment your feet hit the pavement of a hometown. It’s the uncomfortable gap between where you were and where you’re going. It’s the deep breath you take before you step out into the rain and realize that while the streets haven't changed, the way you walk them has. Episode 1 - Arrivals

stood by the sliding glass doors, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He wasn't waiting for a person, but for a feeling. He had spent ten years away, and he expected the city to look different, or perhaps for himself to feel heavier. Instead, he just felt thin, like a character sketched in pencil against a background painted in oil. The air in the terminal didn’t smell like

Under the flicker of the Arrivals board, the world was reduced to a mechanical rhythm of names and cities. Every few seconds, the board would shiver—a frantic clattering of plastic tiles—rearranging itself to announce a new batch of souls. London. Tokyo. New York. It’s the deep breath you take before you

Across the barrier, a young woman burst through the doors, dropping her bags to wrap her arms around an elderly man. They didn't say anything; the arrival was the conversation. Further down, a businessman checked his watch, already looking past the exit toward his next meeting, his arrival merely a logistical hurdle.

He grabbed the handle of his suitcase, the wheels clicking against the linoleum. The doors hissed open, inviting him into the humid afternoon.

He had landed. Now, he just had to figure out how to stay.

The air in the terminal didn’t smell like a new beginning; it smelled like floor wax and expensive espresso.

Elias realized then that an "Arrival" isn't just the moment your feet hit the pavement of a hometown. It’s the uncomfortable gap between where you were and where you’re going. It’s the deep breath you take before you step out into the rain and realize that while the streets haven't changed, the way you walk them has.

stood by the sliding glass doors, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He wasn't waiting for a person, but for a feeling. He had spent ten years away, and he expected the city to look different, or perhaps for himself to feel heavier. Instead, he just felt thin, like a character sketched in pencil against a background painted in oil.

Under the flicker of the Arrivals board, the world was reduced to a mechanical rhythm of names and cities. Every few seconds, the board would shiver—a frantic clattering of plastic tiles—rearranging itself to announce a new batch of souls. London. Tokyo. New York.

Across the barrier, a young woman burst through the doors, dropping her bags to wrap her arms around an elderly man. They didn't say anything; the arrival was the conversation. Further down, a businessman checked his watch, already looking past the exit toward his next meeting, his arrival merely a logistical hurdle.

He grabbed the handle of his suitcase, the wheels clicking against the linoleum. The doors hissed open, inviting him into the humid afternoon.

He had landed. Now, he just had to figure out how to stay.