I have developed a fascination with hymns—particularly those from the 1800s. Aside from reminding me of the many Sundays I spent at St. Michael Anglican Church as a young child, they affirm that the emotions I feel—joy, sadness, gratitude, and the strong pull to acknowledge an invisible God—are not unique to me. Others before me have felt the same and expressed them in hymns.
Singing hymns now—more than 40 years after I first became familiar with them—brings back memories of the atmosphere at my local church in my small town: the booming sound from the big black organ, the pious-looking clergy members in their white cassocks, and the pulpit tucked away in the far left corner of the church (I always wondered who thought it was a good idea to place it there). I can still picture the choir with their diverse voices, the musty scent of the old church, and the small blackboards listing the day's hymns on each side of the wall.
Back then, I had my favorite hymns I looked forward to singing, such as "The Spacious Firmament on High" and "Count Your Blessings." They were meaningful to me then, but I did not dwell on the words or connect with them as deeply as I do now.
Often, during my walks, I reflect on the words of the hymn "The Spacious Firmament on High." which beautifully describes the moon, stars, and sky telling stories of their Creator. It resonates with my awe of nature—the trees, the blue sky, the vast lake, and the radiant sun—all wonders crafted by an almighty hand.The hymn confirms the way I feel—in awe—when I am in nature and my appreciation of the gifts that surround us—the trees, the blue sky, the expansive lake, and the radiant sun. Indeed, like the sun in the hymn, nature—all of it—is the "work of an almighty hand."
I truly enjoy singing hymns, but what interests me these days is discovering the life stories behind them. Recently, I stumbled upon a gem of a website—a repository for old hymns accompanied by tunes played on the organ. Reading the biographies of the authors and their state of mind at the point of writing different hymns has allowed me to view hymns in a different light and has given me greater pleasure when singing them.
For example, the hymn "Have Thy Way, O Lord," written by Adelaide A. Pollard. Her bio describes how she was inspired to write this hymn in a single night. It tells a story of her disappointment in not being able to raise enough money to go to Africa as a missionary in the late 1890s. The hymn represents her belief and hopes that God is working in her life, and she gives Him complete control to transform and change her circumstances or her as only He can. I feel connected to this hymn as I love the thought of God as a potter working with the clay—who can twist and turn it as He wishes to reach a desired piece. In the same way the potter works, I believe He is fashioning out the best of me according to His good plan for my life.
Another hymn that has become more meaningful to me after reading the author's bio and has resulted in my singing it with more vigor is "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" by Thomas Chisholm. According to his bio on the website, he was inspired to write the hymn by "the simple realization that God is at work in our lives daily." He wrote, "My income has not been large at any time due to impaired health in the earlier years, which has followed me until now. Although I must not fail to record here the unfailing faithfulness of a covenant-keeping God and that He has given me many wonderful displays of His care, for which I am filled with astonishing gratefulness." His words show that he understood the constancy of God despite any circumstance. I love this hymn so much—particularly the refrain "Morning by morning new mercies I see—it reminds me that each morning, I have a new opportunity and that replenished support to take me through the day. I share the author's gratitude for how God shows up daily to meet my needs.
The hymn "When Peace Like a River" brings the author's grief and pain to the fore. Written in 1873, the author, Horatio G. Spafford, experienced what would bring any man to his knees—the loss of his family when a ship they were traveling in collided with another. Given the magnitude of his loss, I am struck by his acceptance of his circumstances as expressed in the hymn's refrain, "It is well with my soul; it is well, it is well with my soul." He expresses confidence that God is aware of his difficulty and has taken steps to help him, so he is at peace with his "lot." What an exceptional man of faith he was. The words of the refrain—"it is well with my soul," have brought comfort to me many times when all has not been well with my world.
Hymns have always been, for me, an expression of thoughts that I have sometimes thought of but unable to articulate, a love for the one whose love never fails, a source of respite from the storms of life, but reflecting on the authors' stories has made them even more dear and meaningful to me. I have no doubt that I will be singing hymns for a long time to come.
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