This week I’m in Tampa, speaking at the Bible-Based Fellowship Church of Temple Terrace, a lively, friendly, Bible-loving church of mostly African-American worshippers, led by a terrific pastor named Earl Mason, who is a joy to me.  The meetings run through tomorrow night; so if you’re in the Tampa area, come on by!

Recently I was pleased to receive a new printing of my book, Jesus Loves Me, which has now been released as a beautifully-illustrated paperback (if you’d like to purchase a copy you can click this link).  Perhaps it’s the cover, but many people assume this book is for children.  Well, children will enjoy it; but it’s really an adult book — a biography of two remarkable sisters named Anna and Susan Warner.

As children, the Warner girls watched their family’s wealth evaporate in the financial collapse of 1837.  Losing their mansion in New York City, the family was forced to move into a ramshackled house on the Hudson River, across from the Military Academy at West Point.  There the girls grew up exploring, reading, and working the land.  They eventually realized their family was in perpetual debt, so they began writing and selling stories.  In time, Anna and Susan became two of the most popular writers of the Civil War era.

It was in one of their books they created the words to the hymn, “Jesus Loves Me.”  But today I’d like to share another hymn they wrote.  A beloved minister, Pastor Adams, told the sisters he was very weary, having preached three times that day, conducted Sunday School, led a prayer meeting and a class meeting, and cared for his people from early morning until late afternoon.  But, he said, it was one more day’s work for Jesus.  Shortly afterward, the sisters sent him awonderful poem and hymn.  Here is the first verse and chorus.  It speaks of our daily mission of serving Christ:

One more day’s work for Jesus,
One less of life for me!
But Heav’n is nearer, and Christ is clearer
Than yesterday, to me.
His love and light fill all my soul tonight.

One more day’s work for Jesus,
One more day’s work for Jesus,
One more day’s work for Jesus,
One less of life for me!

Today I’m happy to report that I am finally finishing a book project that has taken much more of my time and energy than anticipated.  The working title is “A Hymn a Day.”  It’s a selection of hymns for daily devotions, based on dates connected in some way with the hymns or their authors or composers.  The release date is a year off, but here’s a sample  — the installment for November 19:

I find it fascinating and comforting that the love of Jesus is described as being cube-shaped in Ephesians 3:18, perfect on all its sides, infinite in all its dimensions—long, high, wide, and deep.  Drawing from this verse, Samuel Trevor Francis, who was born in England on November 19, 1834, makes the love of Christ real to us in this immortal hymn.  His vivid image came from his own background.  As a child, Samuel wrote poems and sang in the church choir; but as a young man he struggled with questions and considered drowning himself in the River Thames.  Then he was wonderfully changed by a personal experience of the love of Christ.  He eventually became a London merchant; but his real love was hymn-writing and open-air preaching, which occupied him all his life, until his death at age 92.

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!
Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me!
Underneath me, all around me, is the current of Thy love
Leading onward, leading homeward to Thy glorious rest above!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, spread His praise from shore to shore!
How He loveth, ever loveth, changeth never, nevermore!
How He watches o’er His loved ones, died to call them all His own;
How for them He intercedeth, watcheth o’er them from the throne!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, love of every love the best!
’Tis an ocean full of blessing, ’tis a haven giving rest!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, ’tis a heaven of heavens to me;
And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee!

…that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height—to know the love of Christ that passes knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.—Ephesians 3:17-19

 I’m in Ohio at my denominational convention, but I’m a little distracted by a writing deadline and by sermon preperation.  Here’s a story I was working on tonight.  It’s about the very last of the 9000 hymns that came from the pen of Charles Wesley, the Sweet Singer of Methodism.

Charles started writing verses immediately upon his conversion and during his lifetime he composed nearly 9,000 hymns—probably more than anyone else in history.  His associate, Henry Moore, described him this way:  “When he was nearly eighty he rode a little horse, grey with age….  Even in the height of summer he was dressed in winter clothes.  As he jogged leisurely along, he jotted down any thoughts that struck him.  He kept a card in his pocket for this purpose, on which he wrote his hymn in shorthand.  Not infrequently he has come to our house in City Road, and, having left the pony in the garden in front, he would enter, crying out, ‘Pen and ink!  Pen and ink!’  These being supplied he wrote the hymn he had been composing.” 

Despite the incredible quantity of his hymns, there remained a depth of quality that astounds us today, with hymns like:  “And Can it Be,” “O, For a Thousand Tongues,” “Rejoice the Lord is King,” the Easter anthem “Christ the Lord is Risen Today,” and the Christmas carol “Hark!  The Herald Angels Sing.”  In addition, Charles joined his brother John in traveling from one end of Britain to the other as open-air evangelists and as founders of the Methodist movement. 

Charles’ last hymn was composed on Saturday, March 29, 1788, the day he died. 

In January of that year, he’d found himself too weak for even short rides.  In February, he’d been confined to bed.  He was in no pain and showed no signs of specific illness; he was just worn out physically.  On March 29, he composed this one-verse hymn, “In Age and Feebleness Extreme,” and, too weak to write it down, dictated it to his wife Sally.  He slipped into unconsciousness.  As his daughter Sarah held his hand, the great Charles Wesley caught a smile from God and dropped into eternity.

In age and feebleness extreme,
Who shall a helpless worm redeem?
Jesus, my only hope Thou art,
Strength of my failing flesh and heart:
O could I catch one smile from Thee,
And drop into eternity!

Today I’ve run across a rare hymn on the subject of marriage and family life.  Marriage was ordained by God at the beginning of history as the foundation of home life and social order, and it must remain so until the end of time.  This unusual hymn, “O Blessèd Home Where Man and Wife,” was written by a Norwegian Lutheran pastor named Magnus B. Landstad, who compiled a new hymnal that was authorized for use in Norway on October 16, 1869.  Though seldom sung in American churches, the first three stanzas are a powerful sermon about the home, and the closing stanza offers a fitting prayer for holiness and happiness in our family life today.  What a great hymn to sing or quote at weddings!

O blessèd home where man and wife
Together lead a godly life
By deeds their faith confessing!
There many a happy day is spent,
There Jesus gladly will consent
To tarry with His blessing.

If they have given Him their heart,
The place of honor set apart
For Him each night and morrow,
Then He the storms of life will calm,
Will bring for every wound a balm,
And change to joy their sorrow.

And if their home be dark and drear,
The cruse be empty, hunger near,
All hope within them dying,
Let them despair not in distress;
Lo, Christ is there the bread to bless,
The fragments multiplying.

O Lord, we come before Thy face;
In every home bestow Thy grace
On children, father, mother,
Relieve their wants, their burdens ease,
Let them together dwell in peace
And love to one another.

Poetry has fallen on hard times, especially sacred poetry with traditional rhythm and rhyme.  But take a moment to read this one from a couple of centuries ago.  Its author, Josiah Conder was born in London September 17, 1789.  At age five, an ill-fated inculcation for small-pox blinded him in one eye and he was treated by the new medical practice of electrical shocking.  It must have worked, because he went on to become a powerful writer, hymnist, journalist, abolitionist, and a layman in the Congregational Church of England.  One of his hymns provides a powerful lesson about not worrying about tomorrow, and it contains that great line (later the title of a famous devotional book, Daily Strength for Daily Needs).  Jesus taught us to take life one day at a time—step by step, day by day, and moment by moment.  Conder found the same lesson in the Lord’s commands to the Israelites to gather up only enough manna for the present day.  This is actually an old English hymn; you can hear the melody here.

Day by day the manna fell;
O to learn this lesson well!
Still by constant mercy fed,
Give me Lord, my daily bread.

“Day by day,” the promise reads,
Daily strength for daily needs;
Cast foreboding fears away;
Take the manna of today.

Lord! my times are in Thy hand;
All my sanguine hopes have planned,
To Thy wisdom I resign,
And would make Thy purpose mine.

Thou my daily task shalt give;
Day by day to Thee I live;
So shall added years fulfill,
Not my own, my Father’s will.

Fond ambition, whisper not;
Happy is my humble lot.
Anxious, busy cares away;
I’m provided for today.

Oh, to live exempt from care
By the energy of prayer:
Strong in faith, with mind subdued,
Yet elate with gratitude!

  If you have accident-prone children, take comfort in the story of John Henry Yates.  His parents had immigrated to New York State from England; and John was born in Batavia, New York, in 1837.  His dad was a shoemaker and a traveling temperance lecturer.  His mom was a school teacher who loved poetry and literature. 

On several occasions, John gave his parents reason for grave alarm.

• On Election Day, 1844, he fell from a high set of stone steps in a hotel and tumbled down into the cellar, fracturing his skull.  It wasn’t certain he would come to, as he was unconscious a long time.  He kept the broad scar as a lifelong souvenir of the incident.
• In 1847, when his family was traveling by ship, a storm struck so powerfully that young John was thrown across the deck, breaking his leg. 
• At 16, John brought down the curtain on a school play when, during a dramatic scene, he accidently fell on an open double-edged knife, piercing his right lung.  For three weeks, his life hung on a thread.

He survived it all, however; and at age 18, he began helping his aged parents in the shoe business.  About the same time his mother persuaded him to start writing poetry, which was immediately published in the Batavia newspaper, and soon in Harper’s Bazaar and other national magazines.  Before long his ballads, poems, songs, and hymns were being recited and sung across America. 

Despite his newfound fame, Yates kept his day job in retail sales, first in shoes, then working in a hardware store and finally managing a popular department store.  Only later in life did he finally leave the retail business to work for the local newspaper.

All the while, John was preaching here and there.  Beginning in his late teens, he served as a lay preacher in the Methodist church.  For many years, he traveled through western New York State, preaching in churches of all denominations and sharing his faith in Jesus Christ.

That faith was severely tested in February of 1878, when his wife and two sons all died within the space of one week from an outbreak of diphtheria.  He eventually remarried and kept going, giving living illustration that our faith in the promises of God and in our Lord Jesus gives us overcoming victory.

In 1891, Yates agreed to write Gospel songs exclusively for the great Christian song director, Ira Sankey, who directed the evangelistic campaigns for D. L. Moody. Many of his hymns became popular favorites.  Yates also switched from the Methodists to the Free Will Baptists and began pastoring near Batavia.

He passed away on September 5, 1900, and this marker rests over his grave:  In Memory of the Poet-Preacher Rev. John H. Yates… Born 1837 / Died 1900…  Faith is the Victory, Oh, Glorious Victory, That Overcomes the World.

John’s house Washington Avenue at State Street in Batavia is now on the historic register and serves as the home of a quaint independently-owned bookstore — Present Tense Books and Gifts.

Here is John Yates’ most enduring hymn – Faith is the Victory

Encamped along the hills of light,
Ye Christian soldiers, rise.
And press the battle ere the night
Shall veil the glowing skies.
Against the foe in vales below
Let all our strength be hurled.
Faith is the victory, we know,
That overcomes the world.

His banner over us is love,
Our sword the Word of God.
We tread the road the saints above
With shouts of triumph trod.
By faith, they like a whirlwind’s breath,
Swept on o’er every field.
The faith by which they conquered death
Is still our shining shield.

Faith is the victory! Faith is the victory!
O glorious victory, that overcomes the world.

PS – Check out my books on the history of hymns here.

This coming Sunday at The Donelson Fellowship, our pulpit study will focus on twin verses in the Bible:

• Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous fall—Psalm 55:22
• Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you—1 Peter 5:7

During the sermon, I’m going to quote one of my favorite hymnists, Paul Gerhardt, who could be called the “Charles Wesley of Germany” (Read more about him in Then Sings My Soul:  Book 2).  His beautiful poem on this theme says: 

Commit whatever grieves thee
Into the gracious hands
Of Him Who never leaves thee,
Who Heav’n and earth commands.
Who points the clouds their courses,
Whom winds and waves obey,
He will direct thy footsteps
And find for thee a way.

If you’re in Nashville, join us at 8:45 and 10:15.  Or you can watch on-line or listen by podcast at www.donelson.org.

PS – My last post was a letter of President Obama, asking him to bring up the subject of persecution of Christias by Muslims during his speech in Egypt this week.  While the President didn’t address the subject exactly as I would have liked, I do want to give him credit for at least bringing up the subject of religious freedom during his highly-publicized speech.  In case you missed it, here is that section:

The fifth issue that we must address together is religious freedom.  Islam has a proud tradition of tolerance. We see it in the history of Andalusia and Cordoba during the Inquisition. I saw it firsthand as a child in Indonesia, where devout Christians worshiped freely in an overwhelmingly Muslim country. That is the spirit we need today. People in every country should be free to choose and live their faith based upon the persuasion of the mind, heart, and soul. This tolerance is essential for religion to thrive, but it is being challenged in many different ways.

Among some Muslims, there is a disturbing tendency to measure one’s own faith by the rejection of another’s. The richness of religious diversity must be upheld – whether it is for Maronites in Lebanon or the Copts in Egypt. And fault lines must be closed among Muslims as well, as the divisions between Sunni and Shia have led to tragic violence, particularly in Iraq.

Freedom of religion is central to the ability of peoples to live together. We must always examine the ways in which we protect it. For instance, in the United States, rules on charitable giving have made it harder for Muslims to fulfill their religious obligation. That is why I am committed to working with American Muslims to ensure that they can fulfill zakat.

Likewise, it is important for Western countries to avoid impeding Muslim citizens from practicing religion as they see fit – for instance, by dictating what clothes a Muslim woman should wear. We cannot disguise hostility towards any religion behind the pretence of liberalism.

I’ve always loved having May 29th as my birthday.  As a child, it coincided with the end of the school year and the beginning of summer vacation.  Now, at the ripe young age of 57, it feels just as festive.  Today I’ve spent my first morning being 57 working on a sermon from 5:7.

It’s the upcoming TDF message for June 7, and the text is 1 Peter 5:7—Casting all your care on Him for He cares for you.

The Greek word Peter used – cast — occurs only one other time in the New Testament, where it is translated threw.  In the story of the Triumphal Entry, some of the disciples threw their coats on the donkey as a saddle for the Lord Jesus.  The idea is that just as the disciples took off their cloaks and threw them on the donkey, so we take off our anxieties and cast them on the Lord. 

Paul Gerhardt put it this way in his poem:  “Commit Whatever Grieves Thee,”  which is timeless hymn, whatever our age:

Commit whatever grieves thee
Into the gracious hands
Of Him Who never leaves thee,
Who Heav’n and earth commands.
Who points the clouds their courses,
Whom winds and waves obey,
He will direct thy footsteps
And find for thee a way.

I want to finish my blog mini-series on hymns with a little-known story about a little-known hymnist and a little-known but lovely hymn.  (Check out Then Sings My Soul for stories behind better-known hymns).

The hymnist is Dr. H. W. Farrington, and I’ve found two interesting notices in the New York Times Archives regarding him.  The first is dated July 3, 1930:

FALL HURTS DR. FARRINGTON

WAR POET AND LECTURER DROPS 15 FEET WHEN PROCH RAIL BREAKS

The Rev. Dr. Harry Webb Farrington, 49 years old, lecturer and traveler, was in a serious condition at the… hospital, tonight, as the result of a fall from a second-story porch this morning.  A rail against which he was leaning gave way, and he fell fifteen feet to a concrete walk.

 

Still conscious, he was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. His skull may be fractured and he suffered injuries of the back….

 

Mr. Farrington is widely known as the author of a book of war poems, published in 1921, and other writings.  He was an ambulance driver in the French Army during the World War, and since that time has lectured widely.

Several months later, his obituary appeared in the Times, dated October 27, 1930.

DR. H. W. FARRINGTON DIES OF INJURIES

MINISTER, POET, AND LECTURER VICTIM OF TWO-STORY FALL FROM PORCH

The Rev. Harry Webb Farrington… Methodist minister and a poet and lecturer, who is said to have addressed more than 2,500,000 school children throughout the United States, died on Saturday night at the Methodist Episcopal Hospital, Brooklyn, from injuries he received on July 2, when he fell from a porch at Ocean Grove, N.J.  He was 50 years old.

 

Mr. Farrington was spending the summer at Ocean Grove with Mrs. Farrington at the time of the accident.  He fell two stories to the ground when the guard rail of the porch on which he as leaning gave way.  His back was severely injured….

 

Born on July 14, 1880, at Nassau, British West Indies, Mr. Farrington was thrown on his own resources early in life, as his mother died during his infancy.  He worked his way through school….

 

In 1918, Mr. Farrington went to France as a Red Circle secretary, and received from the French Army an honorary commission…in recognition of his organization of athletic sports…

 

He was the author of a book of war poems and other writings in prose and verse, and wrote the Harvard prize hymn, “Dear Lord, Who Sought at Dawn of Day.”  During last summer, he completed the story of his life, which will be published in book form next month…

Harry W. Farrington’s hymns, which aren’t well known by many people today, include a delightfully simple, three-verse summary of the life of Christ entitled “I Know Not How that Bethlehem’s Babe.”  It can be sung to the tune “Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee.”

I know not how that Bethlehem’s Babe

Could in the Godhead be;

I only know the manger Child

Has brought God’s life to me.

I know not how that Calvary’s cross

A world from sin could free;

I only know its matchless love

Has brought God’s love to me.

I know not how that Joseph’s tomb

Could solve death’s mystery;

I only know a living Christ,

Our immortality.

I’d choose contemporary Christian songs, of course.  The reason?  Very simply, if we had no new Christian music, Christianity would be dead in our generation. 

Ever since Moses wrote a spontaneous hymn celebrating Israel’s deliverance through the Red Sea (Exodus 15), every generation of believers has composed their own praises to God.  The history of hymnology tells us that each upcoming group of young people needs to express themselves in fresh songs to the Lord.  Had no Christian music been penned from 1990 to 2009, it would indicate there were no Christian young people, no Christian musicians, no Christian hymnists, no one with fresh faith—and Christianity would be DOA.

Of course, we don’t need to choose.  The old hymns connect us with 2000 years of Christian heritage, and the newer songs keep us fresh and alive and appealing to newer generations. 

That’s why I love blended worship.  As Jesus put it, everyone who has been instructed in the things of the Lord “is like the owner of a house who brings out of his storeroom new treasures as well as old” (Matthew 13:52).

PS – Our hymnology is a crucial part of the Christian story.  Check out my books on hymn histories.