ALL GLORIOUS ABOVE

Sir Robert Grant's hymn--as found in
one published in 1938, a hundred 
years after his death.

 Some insights from a beloved hymn

If the Austrian city name “Salzburg” brings something to mind, it might include the image of actress Julie Andrews (portraying a “nanny”) running over stunning Alpine meadows with happy children wearing play clothes sewn from curtains. Her inimitable soprano voice sings the theme song that begins, “The hills are alive....” Yes, the film “The Sound of Music” made this Alps location memorable and “visit-able.” Located in north-central Austria, it now offers all sorts of tourist options, from a 40-minute river cruise to a private walking tour with a guide through historic places of Salzburg. But hang on, there's another “Austrian” connection in hymn history...

There's no fee charge for a breathtaking tour of a “spiritual Salzburg,” magnificently encased in a hymn woven with worshipful words that boost the “awe-factor” of God, described as “King, all glorious above.” The hymn aids praise to “gratefully sing His power and His love.” To look around at “His bountiful care” of this world”—all that: ...breathes in the air, it shines in the light; It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain, And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.

The lyrics burst with awe for God's creation, His love for His frail children, and His trustworthiness and mercies. It's not what you'd expect as the creative worship expression of a government official on foreign soil. But that's the story behind “O Worship the King.” It connects with Psalm 104's descriptions of God's greatness and attributes: Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend.

The hymn came from the heart of an India-assigned British government official, Sir Robert Grant (1779-1838). Born in Bengal, India, where his father held a high position in the East India Company, he was raised and educated in England. He followed in his father's leadership footsteps, including election to Parliament, director of the East India Company, and governor of Bombay. He was reportedly greatly loved by the people of India, who would name a medical college in his honor.

Grant's strong faith, nurtured in the evangelical wing of the Anglican Church, was also expressed in a small volume a poetry published a year after his death. But the poem that became this hymn was well-matched to a regal tune composed by J. Michael Haydn (1737-1806), Austrian composer (there's the Austrian connection!) and younger brother of famed musician Joseph Haydn. Although Joseph is better-known, Michael is considered one of the most accomplished composers of church music –even better in that genre than his brother. If you need to know “how prolific,” try starting with Michael's 43 symphonies, 12 concertos, 21 serenades, well over 400 religious pieces, 47 masses and more....plus 253 secular works--it's okay to say “whew!”

Five years after the hymn's 1833 composition, Grant died, just shy of age 60. He was one-of-a-kind—devout, creative, not the stereotype of a foreign government official. He didn't need inspiration from a movie set in stunning landscapes, or a tourist “riverboat tour,” to prompt worship of the God who created such a beautiful world. Nor did he need extensive hymn-writing credits. His career strengths were political leadership and rapport with the people of India. But his enduring, sing-able legacy is this hymn, inspired by the greatness of God's creation and power as our “Maker, Defender, Redeemer and Friend.”

Sing along (lyrics included): Bing Videos

IMPRINTS

“Stamping”--it was a crafting fad probably two decades-plus ago. I bought into it—literally--amassing a collection of “greeting” and “image” rubber stamps to make my own homemade greeting cards. At the time, there was a win-win aspect of “something to do” with my then-young-teen-loved-crafts- daughter. The slow demise of this hobby occurred to me when I was at a thrift store the other day and noticed a huge bin of used “stamps,” super-cheap. I passed them up as I still have mine, now little used.

The thrift store sight also brought to mind a New Testament phrase about our understanding about the person and role of Jesus Christ. The writer of Hebrews stated that God spoke in the past to His people via prophets, but now He is speaking “to us by His Son,” who is the “heir of all things” and Creator of all things (Hebrews 1:2) And here's the important word: “Jesus is the brightness of [God's] glory and the express image of His person” (Hebrews 1:3 NKJV). The term “express image” is a translation of the Greek term charakter, which described a tool-made impression or engraving, such as found on an official seal or coin. Back then, they didn't have rubber stamps in craft stores, but the process with metal or wax was the same: press hard, leave image.

I find this mind-boggling. How could an eternal, infinite yet intimate God show us His “charakter”--except through His Son, planted temporarily on earth to model and teach about God's plan for holiness and peace? And not just to “model and teach,” but to leave the Holy Spirit to energize right-living?

And maybe a clue is in how we rubber-stamp these days (or in earlier times, pressing an image into melted wax). You don't get an “image” on your paper by juggling the rubber stamps. You must choose what's appropriate, press it into ink, then press into your paper or document. Could the same thing represent the process to be “imprinted” as a follower of Christ? There is a choice, that decision “inked” by blood shed on an ancient cross, which identifies us as Christian.

One more thought. To make a good “image” from my stamps, I needed to press the inked stamp into the paper hard and accurately. Similarly, a true Christ-following-decision isn't a “light touch” on one's life choices. If it's blurred, pale, or incomplete, the message is also compromised. Or to add to what I said above: press hard into Him. Leave His image on all you do or say.

WHEN IT NEVER LETS GO...

It's that time of year when the advertising world explodes with roses, diamond-ring-ads, romantic dinners, mushy cards and more....for Valentine's Day. No doubt, somewhere in all that, you'll hear recordings of Whitney Houston's 1992 hit, “I Will Always Love You.”

That's good and fine for the economy, but painful for those who are alone and live with rejection or are grieving life-loss. Yet those who are “alone”....aren't alone before God. In my reading about hymn history, I am always moved by the biography of Scotsman George Matheson (1842-1906). A minister and author, at one time, he was engaged to a young woman. But his increasing blindness (which began when he was 17) caused her to break the engagement.

He never married, though managed to preach and write with the help of his sister, becoming both a beloved and eloquent preacher. The year he turned forty, his sister married. That occasion brought back memories of his own heartbreak. Out of that despair, he reached out in faith for God's unchanging love, penning four stanzas of his greatest hymn: “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go.” The first verse goes like this:

O love that will not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee.

I give Thee back the life I owe, that in Thine ocean depths its flow

May richer, fuller be.

Matheson's pulpit skills strengthened in that little parish. But like many pastors experience, sometimes the crowds thinned. One winter evening service was especially poorly attended—except for a visitor Matheson knew nothing about. That visitor had come from the large St. Bernard's Church in Edinburgh, which was seeking a new pastor.

The visitor liked what he heard, and Matheson was called to the pulpit of that 2,000-member church. There, his popularity and influence grew. He reportedly said of that surprise visitor: “Make every occasion a great occasion. You can never tell when somebody may be taking your measure for a larger place.”

Sadly, as common for many old historic churches, its fellowship and even purpose changed in the next century. One recent hymn researcher who visited Matheson's old parish found the church locked up and a notice on the front door that it was now used for concerts and dances.

It's too bad there wasn't a compelling historical sign, recounting the building's extraordinary history as a place where eternal Biblical truths and hope were powerfully taught. As I read again the lyrics of Matheson's hymn, I was drawn to verse three:

O Joy that seeketh me through pain, I cannot close my heart to thee.

I trace the rainbow through the rain, And feel the promise is not vain,

That morn shall tearless be.

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Many groups have recorded this tender, hopeful hymn. Here is a rendition by Bill Gaither singers: Bing Videos

 

BEING BOLD...

A friend gave me this little dish—I presume a “resting place” for a tea bag—that (alas!) got me thinking about ways I should be “bold” and ways I shouldn't!

Thankfully, scriptures helped me identify the “okay” boldness. They include:

*Everyday spiritual confidence: “The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are as bold as a lion” (Proverbs 28:1).

*Boldness amid spiritual negatives: “Now, Lord, look on their threats and grant to Your servants that with all boldness they may speak your word” (Acts 4:29)

*A wise and courageous “mouth-set”: The apostle Paul's request: “That I may open my mouth boldly to make known the mystery of the gospel” (Ephesians 6:19-20).

*Confidence through faith in Christ: “Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold” (2 Corinthians 3:12).

Disclaimer: “boldness” is not “brashness.” “Boldness” is pure in motives, earnest in application, gracious in circumstance. Brashness tends to beat people up or tear them down. Boldness is trusting God to point to the right words and actions to bring about right-living in the midst of our fallen world.

Some heroes of the faith who showed boldness:

David, in facing Goliath and trusting God in what seemed overwhelming odds.

Esther, who put her comfortable life at risk to ask her pagan husband-king to spare the Jews from annihilation (including herself!).

The Lord's disciples, including (later) Paul, who faced mobs and imprisonment for telling about Jesus.

If those who analyze personalities proposed a continuum that had shy and mousy people on the left, and bold “shaker-movers” on the right, I'd be among the meek crowd huddling on the left of the chart. I took Speech 101 in college (required, even for shrinking-violet freshmen) but crossed “public speaker” off of my life goals. How was I to know that a few decades later I'd move on that chart a bit to the other side. Not way across to “brave, brash and quotable,” but able to address moderately large crowds without fainting under the podium.

Probably my heroine for “be bold” was an aged German woman who specialized in the quiet, precise work of watch repair. Then war yanked her out of the watch shop, and she survived arrest and notorious imprisonment during the Holocaust. Once freed, she could have retired to a quiet, safe life. Instead, until very old age, she traveled the world, declaring her faith and trust in God in the most horrific of experiences. Among her quotes (which I never forgot in a once-a-lifetime experience of hearing her speak): “There is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still.” Her name (if you hadn't already figured it out): Corrie ten Boom.

Godly boldness is not nurtured in cotton-soft circumstances. It rises from the fires of trial, purged by the love of Christ, and spread with the compulsion of God-stoked conviction.