With the month of February we will have another Valentine’s Day celebrating love and romance. Since the concept of love is much distorted by the world, it may be a good time to remind your congregation about the real thing.
Perhaps you could build an entire worship service around the subject, preaching from a passage such as First Corinthians 13. There are some fine hymns on the theme: And Can It Be?; O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go; Jesus Loves Even Me (Bliss’s hymn is a favourite of mine.); My Jesus, I Love Thee (written by a Canadian teen-ager around 1862); More Love to Thee; and The Love of God (with the sublime poetry of that third verse).
And here is a Bible study on the human heart which you are welcome to use with your Sunday School class or study group: The Human Heart.
Question: Gloria asks, “Do you have a story for Resignation also known as “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need”? We are using it throughout Lent. Thanks.”
Answer: There is not much information available on the hymn itself. I’ll give you what I know, and also tell you a bit about the author. “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need,” is a paraphrase of Psalm 23. It was written by Isaac Watts and first published in 1719, when he was 45 years old. “Resignation” is not the name of the hymn, but a name given to the tune frequently used with the song. It is a traditional American melody whose origins are obscure.
Isaac Watts (1674-1748) was both a pastor and a brilliant scholar, authoring some 60 books. He was also a hymn writer who has given us about 700 hymns. Considering that he died 260 years ago, it is a measure of the quality of his work that many of his hymns (around 25) are still in common use. Watts is called “the Father of English Hymnody,” because it was by his efforts that the church of his time broke away from singing only the words of Scripture (chiefly psalms). It was believed that to sing anything else in the house of God was a heresy tantamount to adding to the Word of God! But young Isaac argued with his father (a deacon in the church) that to focus on the Psalms meant they were missing important New Testament truths, particularly about the saving work of Christ.
Deacon Watts said sternly, “That old hymnal was good enough for your grandfather, and your father, so I reckon it will have to be good enough for you!” But the son was not to be so easily discouraged. He responded, “Father, I have [a hymn] which is better. Will you listen to it?” And his father was willing to hear what his son had composed. The words were indeed prophetic. The hymn begins, “Behold, the glories of the Lamb, / Amidst His Father’s throne; / Prepare new honours for His name, / And songs before unknown.” History records that Deacon Watts rose from his seat, put his arm around Isaac, and apologized for his hasty words. The congregation sang the hymn the next morning. It was such a blessing the people asked for more. The year was 1692–when Isaac Watts was only 18. But he began turning out one new hymn a week for them, a practice he kept up for years.
A compilation of these (including the hymn you ask about) was published in 1719 with the descriptive title, The Psalms of David, Imitated in the Language of the New Testament, and Applied to the Christian State and Worship. (They went in for long titles back then!) But the title is helpful, because it clearly explains the purpose behind Watts’s work. He had published Hymns and Spiritual Songs a few years earlier (in 1707, and a re-edited version in 1709). I mention that work because it contained the author’s masterpiece, still considered among the greatest two or three hymns in the English language–“When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.”
Watts lived to the age of 75, which was exceptional in that day. But in 1712 he had to retire from pastoral ministry, due to failing health. He went to live with the family of Sir Thomas Abney, and became a tutor to his children. Perhaps the hymn in question was written during his time of infirmity and suffering, which would give it particular poignancy. We know the author laboured from 1700 to 1719 on the book which first contained the hymn in question. When the volume was completed he wrote, “May that God, who has favoured me with life and capacity to finish this work for the service of His churches, after so many years of tiresome sickness and confinement, accept this humble offering from a thankful heart.”
Question: Nancy asks, “Do you know the story behind the hymn “Day by Day? I would appreciate this information. Thank you.”
Answer: In his autobiography, Out of the Depths, hymn writer John Newton makes this practical observation: “Sometimes I compare the troubles which we have to undergo in the course of a year to a great bundle of [fire wood], far too large for us to lift. But God does not require us to carry the whole at once; He mercifully unties the bundle, and gives us first one stick, which we are to carry today, and then another which we are to carry tomorrow, and so on. This we might easily manage, if we would only take the burden appointed for us each day; but we chose to increase our troubles by carrying yesterday’s stick over again today, and adding tomorrow’s burden to our load, before we are required to bear it.”
It is well said. So often our fretting over yesterday’s failures and our speculation about tomorrow’s possible problems robs us of present peace. In discussing the crippling danger of anxious care, the Lord Jesus reminds us, “Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matt. 6:34). As creatures of time, we live in the present moment, and that is where the Lord has promised to help us. We are invited to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread” (Matt. 6:11). And His pledge is, “As you days, so shall your strength be” (Deut. 33:25).
Of course this does not preclude planning for the future. “For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not sit down first and count the cost, whether he has enough to finish it?” (Lk. 14:28). Setting goals and evaluating our resources is one thing. Worrying and stewing over things that are beyond our control is quite another. Even with the best of preparation, tomorrow will have its unexpected challenges–and its blessings, too. We must leave that in God’s hands, looking to Him for the wisdom and strength to do His will (Heb. 4:16). His promise is, “My grace is sufficient for you” (II Cor. 12:9).
One who learned to take each day as it came was Carolina Sandell Berg (1832-1903). Lina Sandell, as she was commonly known, was married in 1867, to C. O. Berg, a merchant in the city of Stockholm. Mrs. Berg was the daughter of a Lutheran pastor, in Sweden. She wrote numerous hymns that were used of God in the revivals that touched Scandinavia in the late 19th century. Her early contributions gained her the nickname “the Fanny Crosby of Sweden.” But one day in 1852 tragedy struck. She and her father were traveling by sea to Gothenburg when the ship pitched, suddenly. Pastor Sandell was thrown overboard and drowned. It is said that the songs which flowed from the young woman’s grieving heart afterward had a new spiritual depth. They breathed a simple, child-like faith, and an keen awareness of the presence of her loving Lord. She had learned the importance of trusting Him moment by moment.
“Day by Day” is one such hymn. It says, “Day by day and with each passing moment, / Strength I find to meet my trials here; / Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment, / I’ve no cause for worry or for fear. / He whose heart is kind beyond all measure / Gives unto each day what He deems best— / Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure, / Mingling toil with peace and rest.” Then the last stanza is a prayerful appeal. “Help me then in ev’ry tribulation / So to trust Thy promises, O Lord, / That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation / Offered me within Thy holy Word. / Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting, / E’er to take, as from a father’s hand, / One by one, the days, the moments fleeting, / Till I reach the promised land.” That is how to deal with all the days God gives us–one by one–with our eyes on Him, and our trust in His unfailing Word.
Would you like to know how hymns were sung, and how they sounded, a hundred years ago and more–back in the day when some of the authors (such as Fanny Crosby and others) were still alive? Though experimental recording was done as early as the 1870’s, recording music for sale and distribution was still in its infancy in 1898-1910. Nevertheless, there are some examples available from that period.
Edison cylinder recordings
Ira Sankey (1840-1908), the gospel singer who worked with Dwight L. Moody, recorded a number of hymns late in his life. His voice had lost much of its quality by then, but the work is interesting, nonetheless. (Seven of those songs are available on a CD called “There’ll Be No Dark Valley–Hymns and Sacred Songs Sung by Ira Sankey.”) There is also a CD collection of 28 “Hymns and Sacred Songs” by various soloists, groups and instrumentalists. Either of these can be ordered (quite inexpensively) at http://www.tinfoil.com where many other old recordings can also be found.
You may find the style amusing at times, as it is quite different from what many are used to today. But there is a sincerity and warmth that comes through these remarkably clear recordings that has its own charm. Highly recommended.
For many years there has been strife between England and Ireland. For a time, an Irishman named James Montgomery was involved in that conflict. Montgomery (1771-1854) was never much interested in school. He flunked out of college, and worked for awhile as a baker’s helper. By the age of twenty, he was an unemployed drifter. But he did have one passion in life, and that was writing. The editor of a newspaper in Sheffield, England, apparently saw some promise in him, and took him on.
Monument to James Montgomery “the Christian poet, patriot, and philanthropist” (photo courtesy Mick Knapton)
The Sheffield Register was a radical pro-Irish publication, and young Jim learned first-hand about the hatred of his people for British rule. In 1794, the paper’s editor was run out of town for his columns written in support of Irish independence. Suddenly, James Montgomery found himself in charge of publishing the newspaper–a position he was to hold for the next thirty-one years. He changed the name of the paper to the Sheffield Iris, but kept up the strong editorial policy of his predecessor.
The orphaned son of missionary parents, the young editor continued through all these years to study the Scriptures. As his love for the Lord grew, he began expressing the Bible truths he learned as hymns, eventually writing about 400 of them. In honouring Christ he had found a spiritual cause even beyond the social concerns that had stirred his heart in former years. The best of his songs–and perhaps one of the finest hymns in the English language–is one written in 1816 that he called “Good Tidings of Great Joy to All People.” We now know it as “Angels from the Realms of Glory.” (To see the full text, click here: link )
The author carries us through the main features of the Christmas story, and makes a personal application of the event. He begins by noting how the angels that long ago celebrated creation (Job 38:4-7) were called upon to rejoice in the Saviour’s birth: “Angels, from the realms of glory, / Wing your flight o’er all the earth; / Ye who sang creation’s story / Now proclaim Messiah’s birth.” Next, the author turns our attention to the “Shepherds in the field’s abiding,” and to the later visit of the wise men, with “Sages leave your contemplations, / Brighter visions beam afar.” Both of these accounts are a familiar part of the Christmas story (Lk. 2:1-20; Matt. 2:1-11).
But with that the carol makes a personal application to each of us–whether saints or sinners. It addresses “Saints before the altar bending, / Watching long in hope and fear.” Then, in a sobering verse never used today, Montgomery appeals to those outside of Christ. “Sinners, wrung with true repentance, / Doomed for guilt to endless pains, / Justice now revokes the sentence, / Mercy calls you; break your chains.” He is saying what the coming of Christ (and His cross) have accomplished–that through the shed blood of Christ God is able to “be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus” (Rom. 3:26). Through Christ, sin’s captive is set free.
Finally, the author moves us on to the triumph of Christ’s reign with “Though an Infant now we view Him, / He shall fill His Father’s throne; / Gather all the nations to Him; / Every knee shall then bow down.” Or, as the Bible puts it, “At the name of Jesus every knee should bow…and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Phil. 2:10-11). In the words of this hymn, we are carried from eternity to eternity. May we at this season join the host of angels and men who, in the words of Montgomery’s refrain, “Worship Christ, the newborn King.”
Away in a Manger was written by…? On occasion, the authorship of an old hymn is unknown. But it is more unusual to find a song whose authorship is seemingly definite, only to have the “facts” of its origin completely rejected later. That is the case with the popular carol, “Away in a Manger.”
From “Dainty Songs…”
In 1887, hymn writer and music publisher James Ramsey Murray (1841-1905) produced a book of children’s music called Dainty Songs for Little Lads and Lasses. “Away in a Manger” was included in the book, under this heading: “Luther’s Cradle Hymn, composed by Martin Luther for his children, and still sung by German mothers to their little ones.” Another author goes even further, saying the hymn “is thought to be written for his small son Hans (John), for a Christmas Eve festival, perhaps in 1530.” It is a touching picture. But it never happened.
To accuse Mr. Murray of lying would be going too far. But wherever he got his information, he was certainly misinformed. Nothing in all of the reformer’s copious writings bears any resemblance to the carol. And the song Luther wrote for his five-year-old son Hans is “From Heaven Above to Earth I Come,” not “Away in a Manger.” In 1945, an American reference librarian named Richard S. Hill wrote a lengthy article called “Not So Far Away in a Manger.” After meticulous research, his conclusion was that the carol in question was likely written around 1883, by an anonymous Lutheran living in Pennsylvania. (Appropriately, 1883 was the four hundredth anniversary of Luther’s birth.)
The carol begins, “Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, / The little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head. / The stars in the sky looked down where He lay, / The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.” It is a tender description of the birth of Jesus. His humble cradle was a manger because “there was no room for them in the inn” of Bethlehem (Lk. 2:7). Though many have attached a theological significance to this, comparing it to the unbeliever who has no room for the Saviour in his life, in the beginning it was a more practical matter.
A Roman census that year required citizens to return to the town of their family origin to register. For Mary and Joseph, that was Bethlehem (Lk. 2:1-5). Because she was heavily pregnant, and could possibly give birth at any time, their trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem was no doubt slowed. They arrived to find the inn packed to capacity. Far from meanly turning them away, the harried inn keeper likely sought to provide the best shelter he could.
The original carol had only two stanzas. The last was written around 1905 by a Methodist clergyman named John Thomas MacFarland (1851-1913). He made a worthy addition to the song, providing children with the prayer: “Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay / Close by me forever, and love me, I pray; / Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care, / And fit us for heaven to live with Thee there.” This makes the hymn more than simply a verbal manger scene. It implies the continuing presence of a living Lord Jesus with a concern for little children–something we know was evident during His years of earthly ministry (Mk. 10:13-16).
Much remains a mystery with regard to today’s carol. And there are still unknowns concerning the birth of Christ as well. What we do know is that with this momentous event God the Son entered human history, incarnated by a miracle of the Holy Spirit in the womb of Mary (Lk. 1:31, 34-35). The infinite condescension involved in this is beyond imagining. But we know why He did it. He came “to give His life a ransom for many” (Mk. 10:45). His pathway led from the manger to the cross, where “Christ died for our sins” (I Cor. 15:3). That is the heart of the Christmas story.
As with other hymns, the origins of our familiar Christmas carols are varied and sometimes quite interesting. But no other has such an unusual history as this selection.It began as one single word!
Simeon in the temple
On occasion I have asked a congregation what they thought that word might be. Guesses such as: Jesus, birth, manger, Mary, and so on, have been offered. But all are incorrect.
The carol in question is “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” To trace the origins of the song we have to go back about fourteen centuries, to the beginning of the Middle Ages. Each day during the week before Christmas, it was the practice in the church of that era to read the “Magificat,” Mary’s song of praise recorded in Luke 1:46-55.
Before and after the reading an antiphon would be sung, with choral groups answering back and forth “antiphonally.” The antiphon anticipating the advent of Christ consisted of a single word–a long, drawn-out “O!” Called “The Great O of Advent,” it was intended to express a deep sense of yearning for the coming of the Saviour.
That spiritual hunger among the people of God was evident in Israel before Jesus was born. Although in many of our Bibles we simply need to turn a page or two to get from Malachi, the last book in the Old Testament, to Matthew, the first in the New, a great deal of time passed between them. Malachi prophesied concerning the work of John the Baptist (Mal. 3:1; cf. Matt. 11:10), but it was four centuries before he came on the scene. Sometimes those are called “the Four Hundred Silent Years,” since no inspired prophecy came from the Lord during that time.
No doubt that silence awakened a growing sense of anticipation among the saints. When would the Messiah come? When would the Lord fulfil the promises He made so long ago? Two who wondered and hoped were elderly Simeon and Anna. The Bible says Simeon was “waiting for the Consolation [the Consoler] of Israel.” And when he saw the baby Jesus he confessed that he could “depart in peace” because “My eyes have seen Your salvation” (Lk. 2:25, 29-30).
Widowed Anna lived in the temple complex, giving herself to “fastings and prayers.” When she saw the Infant, she “spoke of Him to all those who were looking for redemption in Israel” (Lk. 2:37-38). Possibly she whispered, with some excitement, “He’s come! He’s come!”
The faithful in Israel were waiting for His coming, and looking for it. And that zealous devotion was later given voice in the Great O of Advent. One hymn historian describes it as almost “a cry of distress,” an urgent plea for deliverance from on high.
As time went by, other words were added to that “O,” different ones for each of the seven days the Antiphon of Advent was used. Each became a unique prayer, incorporating a description of the Lord Jesus. There was, “O Key of David, unlock the prison house,” one day. And “O Dayspring, come and give us light,” on another. Finally, someone thought of combining the antiphons into a single Latin hymn.
In 1851, John Mason Neale (1818-1856) translated the words into English and gave us the carol “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” Neale’s great gift to the Christian church was his translation work. He brought to English-speaking Christians some of the treasury of Greek and Latin hymns from long ago.
This one anticipates the Christmas season, saying in one stanza, “O Come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free / Thine own from Satan’s tyranny; / From depths of hell Thy people save / And give them victory o’er the grave.” And the Lord Jesus did just that! Through faith in His work on Calvary we can be saved eternally. As the Bible declares, “O Death, where is your sting?…Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” (I Cor. 15:57).
Question: Andrew asks, “What does ‘excelsis Deo’ mean in [the carol] ‘Angels We Have Heard on High’?”
Answer: The four words, “Gloria in excelsis Deo” form a Latin phrase meaning “Glory to God [Deo] in the highest,” quoting the angels’ words of praise from Luke 2:14.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: “Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”
Over a century ago philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche wrote the famous words “God is dead.” But he did not mean what many suppose. He was not saying that somehow God had ceased to exist. Rather, he meant that God has ceased to matter to us. That the vast majority in society have little thought of God. He is dead to them. Sadly, that is even possible for Christians.
One day Martin Luther’s wife Katherine came down to breakfast dressed head to foot in black. Startled by her mourning attire, Luther asked her who had died. “Do you not know?” she said, “God in heaven is dead.” “How can you talk such nonsense, Katie! Luther responded. “God is immortal. He can never die.” But then Katherine pointed out that, by her husband’s persistent discouragement in recent days, he was certainly acting as though God had died. She helped him see the need to once more apply the truths he knew so well.
No, God is not dead. But the point is well taken. It is possible even for born again Christians to act like what we might call “practical atheists.” Perhaps it is because of personal failures or domestic problems. Perhaps it is because current events in the world are so discouraging. Sometimes life’s problems do loom large in our limited view and we bitterly turn our backs on God as a reaction to that.
Here we are at another Christmas season. In some ways it seems a hollow mockery to celebrate “peace on earth, good will toward men” when the world is in such turmoil. It is easy to be overwhelmed with pessimism. Wars and rumours of wars abound. Violence and unrest stalk the streets of our big cities. Famine and disease blight various third world countries. What has become of the Prince of Peace? At times we may be tempted to cry to the Lord like the storm-tossed disciples of old, “Do You not care that we are perishing?” (Mk. 4:37-38).
Such thoughts gripped the heart of a father, in the nineteenth century, as he sent his own son off to war–the American Civil War. A few years before, he had lost his wife in a tragic fire. Now the ongoing brutal strife of the war was decimating communities and dividing families. Would it ever end?
The father pondered the national scene with fear and dismay. But soon, as the Lord enlarged his view, he renewed his confidence in God, confessing with the psalmist that, “He who keeps Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep” (Ps. 121:4).
That father was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), one of the preeminent poets of his day. He has expressed his inner journey from discouragement to rekindled faith in the Christmas carol, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.”
Some verses now omitted make reference to the war, but the hymn has a wider message. The song begins, “I heard the bells on Christmas day / Their old familiar carols play, / And wild and sweet the words repeat / Of peace on earth, good will to men.” Even so Longfellow admits that “Hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth.”
But in the booming church bells on Christmas morning the poet fancies he hears a bold declaration: “Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: / “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; / The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, / With peace on earth, good will to men.”
We must be careful not to dwell on a short-ranged perception of the purposes of God. With an upraised finger, it is possible to blot out the sun from our view. But it is still there. It continues to shine. And similarly, though our problems at times obscure the face of God, He is still there, and still on the throne. God is not dead. “The Lord reigns; let the earth rejoice” (Ps. 97:1).
It was the humble birth of a son that led to the writing of one of our most beloved Christmas carols. There is some disagreement on the exact details, but it seems to have come about like this. The place where the events took place is a tiny village called Oberndorf in a region of the Austrian Alps known as the Tyrol.
The year was 1818, and it was the day before Christmas. Plans were well underway for a musical program that would take place the next evening. Joseph Mohr, the pastor of the village church, and his organist Franz Gruber, were both musicians, and they hoped the service they had planned would be a blessing to all.
But as often happens in pastoral ministry, work on the program was interrupted. Word came that a poor wood-chopper’s wife had just given birth to a child. They lived quite a distance from town, and Pastor Mohr went everywhere on foot. He immediately set his other tasks aside and made his way through the snow to their cottage, where he had prayer, asking God’s blessing on their newborn son. Having been invited to a Christmas Eve party at the home of a wealthy parishioner, Mohr then set off from the couple’s cottage up a nearby mountain to the palatial home.
It was late when he finally trudged through the snow back to Oberndorf. The night was clear and cold, and the stars sparkled brilliantly overhead. He thought about the humble birth of the wood-cutter’s son, and of course it reminded him of the coming of Christ.
He was overwhelmed by the scene before him and quickened his pace homeward, where he turned a sudden inspiration into the words of a song, finishing it at four in the morning. On Christmas Day he took the lines of verse to his friend Franz Gruber, who supplied a tune. The two of them sang it to the villagers for the first time that evening, assisted by a choir.
It is not surprising that the son of a poor labourer should be born in a modest cabin outside an obscure little town. What is astonishing is that the Son of God should choose to come to earth that way. The wise men came to Herod in Jerusalem, expecting “the King of the Jews” would be found there (Matt. 2:1-2). But instead He was born in Bethlehem. His nursery was a stable, and His cradle a manger of hay.
Why did it happen that way? The Bible tells us: “You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich” (II Cor. 8:9). He readily served the poorest and the weakest. No one is too lowly to receive His love.”He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross” (Phil. 2:8). The Lord Jesus willingly left heaven’s glory in order to provide salvation for you and me (Jn. 3:16).
Some accounts of our hymn’s origin speak of the breakdown of the church organ, but that did not likely happen until November of 1819–nearly two years afterward. It was, however, the organ repairman Fritz Mauracher, who came from a village over the mountains, heard the song, and shared it with the outside world.
In his town lived the Strasser family, who manufactured fine leather gloves. They had trained their four children to sing in front of their booth at fairs and festivals, in order to drum up sales. It was the Strasser Sisters Quartet that soon spread the lovely song to town after town. It did not even have a name, but was known simply as a “Tiroler Volkslied” (a Tyrolean Folk Song). It was first published in a German hymnal under the heading, “A Hymn of Unknown Origin.” Now we know it in English as “Silent Night.”
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