Origins of Songs

[Joshua Rhodes]

The Solid Rock
1834 A.D.

Edward Mote was bron into poverty on January 21, 1797, in London. His parents, innkeepers, wouldn't allow a Bible in their house, but somehow Edward heard the gospel as a teenager and came to Christ. He eventually became a skilled carpenter and the owner of his own cabinet shop.

"One morning," he recalled, "it came into my mind as I went to labor to write a hymn on the 'Gracious Experience of a Christian.' As I went up to Holborn I had the chorus: On Christ the solid Rock I stand / All other ground is sinking sand. In the day I had four verses complete, and wrote them off.

"On the Sabbath following, I met brother King... who informed me that his wife was very ill, and asked me to call and see her. I had an early tea and called afterwards. He said that it was his usual custom to sing a hymn, read a portion, and engage in prayer before he went to meeting. He looked for his hymnbook but could find it nowhere. I said, ' I have some verses in my pocket; if he liked, we would sing them.' We did, and his wife enjoed them so much that after service he aske dme, as a favor, to leave a copy of them for his wife.

"I went home, and by the fireside composed the last two verses, wrote the whole off, and took them to sister King... As these verses so met the dying woman's case, my attention to them was the more arrested, and I had a thousand printed for distribution."

In 1852, Edward, 55, gave up his carpentry to pastor the Baptist Church in Horsham, Sussex, where he ministered for 21 years. He resigned in 1873, in failing health, saying, "I think I am going to heaven; yes, I am nearing port. The truths I have been preaching, I am now living upon and they'll do very well to die upon. Ah! The precious blood." He passed away at age 77.

Here's an interesting verse from Mote's original that is omitted from most hymnals today:

I trust His righteous character,
His council, promise, and His power;
His honor and His Name's at stake
To save me from the burning lake;
On Christ, the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground in sinking sand.

 

[Joshua Rhodes]

Just As I Am
1836 A.D.

She was an embittered woman, Charlotte Elliott of Brighton, England. Her health was broken, and her disability had hardened her. "If God loved me," she muttered, "He would not have treated me this way."

Hoping to help her, a Swiss minister, Dr. Cesar Malan, visited the Elliotts on May 9, 1822. Over dinner, Charlotte lost her temper and railed against God and family in a violent outburst. Her embarrassed family left the room, and Dr. Malan was left alone with her.

"You are tired of yourself, aren't you?" he asked. "You are holding to your hate and anger because you have nothing else in the wolrd to cling to. Consequently, you have become sour, bitter, and resentful."

"What is your cure?" asked Charlotte.

"The faith you are trying to despise."

As they talked, Charlotte softened. "If I wanted to become a Christian and to share the peace and joy you possess," she finally asked, "what would I do?"

"You would give yourself to God just as you are now, with your fightings and fears, hates and loves, pride and shame."

"I would come to God just as I am?" Is that right?"

Charlotte did come just as she was, and her heart was changed that day. As time passed she found and claimed John 6:37 as a special verse for her: "...he who comes to Me I will by no means cast out."

Years later, her brother, Rev. Henry Elliott, was raising funds for a school for the children of poor clergymen. Charlotte wrote a poem, and it was printed and sold across England. The leaflet said: Sold for the Benefit of St. Margaret's Hall, Brighton: Him That Cometh to Me I Will in No Wise Cast Out. Underneath was Charlotte's poem - which has since become the most famous invitational hymn in history.

Charlotte lived to be 82 and wrote about 150 hymns, though she never enjoyed good health. As her loved ones sifted through her papers after her death, they found over a thousand letters she had kept in which people expressed their gratitude for the way this hymn had touched their lives.

 

[Joshua Rhodes]

Nearer, My God, to Thee
1840 A.D.

It was reported that the band aboard the Titanic gallantly played "Nearer, My God, to Thee" as the great liner sank to its watery grave on April 14, 1912. A Canadian survivor told of being comforted by its strains. Historians, however, have never been able to nail down the validity of the story.

Never mind. It's a great hymn anyway, written by a woman named Sarah Flower Adams. She was born in Harlow, England, in the winter of 1805. Her father was a newspaper editor and a man of prominence.

Sarah herself grew up enjoying the spotlight. She showed great interest in the stage and dreamed of being an actress. In 1834, she married William Bridges Adams, a civil engineer. The couple lived in London where Sarah could be near the great theaters. In 1837, she played "Lady Macbeth" in the Richmond Theater in London to rave reviews.

Her frail health hampered her career, however, and she found herself focusing more on her literary gifts. It's said that she wrote quickly, as if under compulsion; and seldom did editors find anything to change in her work. Among her compositions were hymns of praise to the Lord. Sarah's sister, Eliza, a gifted musician, often wrote the music for her hymns. The two were very close.

One day in 1841, their pastor, Rev. William Johnson Fox of London's South Place Unitarian Church, paid a visit. He was compiling a church hymnbook and he wanted to include some of their hymns. He further mentioned that he was frustrated at his inability to find a hymn to go along with the upcoming Sunday's messge, which was from the story of Jacob at Bethel in Genesis 28:20-22.

Sarah offered to write a hymn based on those verses. For the rest of the week she poured over the passage, visualizing Jacob's sleeping with a stone for his pillow as he dreamed of a ladder reaching to heaven. The following Sunday, South Place Unitarian Church sang Sarah's "Nearer, My God, to Thee."

Eliza, who was suffering from tuberculosis, died in 1846. Sarah had faithfully cared for her sister during the illness, but by the time Eliza died, Sarah, too, was showing signs of consumption.

She passed away on August 14, 1848, at age 43.

 

[Abiyah]

I have no idea if this is true or not, but although I
enjoy classical music, I have never heard the
melody of "Nearer My God to Thee" in any.

Regardless, there are those who say that the band
was not playing "Near My God to Thee" at all;
rather, it was playing a classical tune which, they
say, was popular at the time. Maybe so -- I have
my doubts.

Regarrdless, if the band leader had intended that
the band play the other song, is it not a miracle
that our God orchestrated his thoughts in order to
have them play a song known to many, which
would be a comfort to some and a reminder of
our God to others? The people of that era were
generally far less spiritually ignorant than many
are today: surely, that the story was told at all
indicates that our God has His way in spite of
both our "wisdom" and ignorance.

 

[Joshua Rhodes]

Abide With Me
1847 A.D.

Henry Francis Lyte, vicar in the fishing village of Lower Brixham, Devonshire, England, ministered faithfully for twnety-three years to his sea-faring people.

Though a humble couple, he and his wife, Anne, lived in an elegant estate, Berry Head. It had reportedly been provided by King William IV, who had been impressed with Henry's ministry. At water's edge, its coastal views were among the most beautiful on the British Isles. Henry laid out walking trails through the estate's forty-one acres and enjoyed the tranquility of the hhouse and grounds. There he wrote most of his sermons, poems, and hymns.

But Henry's lung condition hung over the home like a blackening cloud. Lower Brixham suffered long, damp winters, and while in his early fifties Henry realized his lung disoreder had deteriorated into tuberculosis. On September 4, 1847, age 54, he entered his pulpit with difficulty and preached what was to be his last sermon. He had planned a therapeutic holiday in Italy. "I must put everything in order before I leave," he said, "Because I have no idea how long I will be away."

That afternoon he walked along the coast in pensive prayer then retired to his room, emerging an hour later with a written copy of "Abide With Me." Some accounts indicate he wrote the poem during that hour; others say that he discovered it in the bottom of his desk as he packed for his trip to Italy, and that it had been written a quarter-century earlier. Probably both stories are true. It is likely that, finding sketches of a poem he had previously started, he prayerfully revised and completed it that evening.

Shortly afterward, Henry embraced his family a final time and departed for Italy. Stopping in Avignon, France, he again revised "Abide With Me" - it was evidently much on his mind - and posted it to his wife. Arriving on the French Riviera, he checked into the Hotel de Angleterre in Nice, and there on November 20, 1847, his phthisic lungs finally gave out. Another English clergymen, a Rev. Manning of Chichester, who happened to be staying in the same hotel, attended him during his final hours. Henry's last words were, "Peace! Joy!"

When news of his death reached Brixham, the fishermen of the village asked Henry's son-in-law, also a minister, to hold a memorial service. It was on this occasion that "Abide With Me" was first sung.

 

[Joshua Rhodes]

Crown Him With Many Crowns
1851 A.D.

The original form of this hymn was written by Matthew Bridges and consisted of six eight-line stanzas. He thought os his hymn as a sermon in song, based on Revelation 19:12. "...and on His head were many crowns." He called his hymn, "The Song of the Seraphs." Matthew, who once wrote a book condeming Roman Catholics, ended up converting to Catholicism in 1848. He followed John Henry Newman out of the Church of England.

In 1874, Godfrey Thring, a staunch Anglican clergyman feared that some of Bridges' verses smacked too much of Catholic doctrine. Verse two, for example, said:

Crown Him the virgin's Son, the God incarnate born,
Whose arm those crimson trophies won which now His brow adorn;
Fruit of the mystic rose, as of the rose the stem;
The root whence mercy ever flows, the Babe of Bethlehem.

It seems odd to us now that such a verse would cause controversy, but in the end Godrey wrote six new verses for the same song. "Crown Him With Many Crowns," therefore became a six-verse hymn that was written twice!

Over the years, these twelve stanzas have become intermingled in the hymnbooks, with editors mixing and matching the verses. Here are the first lines of all twelve verses, the first six by Bridges, the last six by Thring:

Stanza 1: Crown Him with many crowns, the Lamb upon His throne...
Stanza 2: Crown Him the virgin's Son, the God incarnate born...
Stanza 3: Crown Him the Lord of love, behold His hands and side...
Stanza 4: Crown Him the Lord of peace, Whose power a scepter sways...
Stanza 5: Crown Him the Lord of years, the Potentate of time,
Stanza 6: Crown Him the Lord of Heaven, on with the Father known...
Stanza 7: Crown Him with crowns of gold...
Stanza 8: Crown Him the Son of God, before the worlds began...
Stanza 9: Crown Him the Lord of light...
Stanza 10: Crown Him the Lord of life, who triumphed over the grave...
Stanza 11: Crown Him the Lord of lords, who over all doth reign...
Stanza 12: Crown Him the Lord of Heaven, enthroned in worlds above...

 

[rlvaughn]

He Leadeth Me
1862, Joseph Henry Gilmore

It was in March of 1862, during the civil War that 28 year old Joseph Gilmore, son of a New Hampshire governor was supply preaching in an historic Philadelphia church, the First Baptist Church at Broad and Arch Streets.

Because of the dark depression of the war between the states, Reverend Gilmore selected as his sermon theme the Twenty-Third Psalm, emphasizing God's leadership during those dark days. Over and over again he repeated the phrase, "He Leadeth Me." Later, at the home of one of the deacons, Gilmore was so filled with the thought of his theme that he was unable to contain himself.

On a piece of paper, he jotted down these lines: "He leadeth me! O blessed thought; O words with heavenly comfort fraught." When he finished there were four stanzas and a chorus. Gilmore promptly forgot all about what he had written; but his wife, recognizing something good, sent a copy to a Boston periodical. It was there that William Bradbury, famous composer and publisher of Church music, discovered it and set it to music.

- from "101 Hymn Stories" by Kenneth Osbeck

 

[mark]

Joshua, I usually don't venture into this music topic, as I have NO musical ability, but I have thoroughly enjoyed reading these! Thanks so much.

 

[av1611jim]

Joshua;
I have been away from this board for many months. So you may imagine my joy when I returned and found your many lists of stories about the origin of the hymns I love so dearly.
If I may offer a comment... I noticed that the majority of the hymns you listed and many you did not list; are all written b-4 1900.
I am a dispensationalist by way of identification theologically and I can't help but notice that all of the "traditional" hymns that are being cast aside by the 'modern' western churches, were written during the Philidephean church age and the "praise-worship" songs are written during the Laodicean age. Ref. Rev 2:7-22. I find that interesting when considering the raging debate about congregational singing. Just a thought.
Anyway Joshua, kudos to you and your efforts.
I doubt if your intentions were to spark more debate one side or the other. My apologies if my comments be-smears your noble intentions.
Jim

 

[Eric B]

That whole identification of Church eras does not carry enough weight to make a judgement like that. I believe the 7 churches were different states that existed simultaneously. After all, the actual congregationc Christ was addressing were simulateneous.

So the old time churches could have been the Laodiceans ("we are rich and in need of nothing" --e.g. we are so good because of our simple conservative ways; everyone else is sinning). Or better yet, the Ephesians (can't stand evil, reject compromise, but have lost you're first love --i.e other issues, opposition of others, manmade rules, etc. take precedence over Jesus.)
To me, the contemporary Church seems to be Thyatira; a mixture of growth/good works and compromise.

 

[shane usry]

Joshua, Being new to the board, I haven't had time to read all the posts and different threads. I have just finished reading this one in it's entirety at one sitting! Thank You for your tireless effort! This has been one of the most thought provoking and educational threads I've ever read! Terrific work! Thank you very much for all the information about the songs I love so much! In Christ Forever, Shane

 

[Melanie]

Thank you Joshua for this labour of love, I have read through the pages and thoroughy enjoyed them.It has enthused me sufficiently to seek out authors and histories of some other music.

 

[Dr. Bob]

Going to try to revive this and add some more hymn stories.

The Ninety and Nine

Words: Eliz­a­beth C. Cle­phane, 1868.
Music: Ira D. Sank­ey

Sankey spot­ted these words in a Bri­tish news­pa­per while on an evan­gel­ism tour in Scot­land with Dwight Moo­dy. He tore the po­em from the pa­per, put it in his pock­et, and for­got about it.

Lat­er that day, at the end of their ser­vice in Edin­burgh, Moo­dy asked Sank­ey for a clos­ing song. Ira was caught by sur­prise, but the Ho­ly Spir­it re­mind­ed him of the po­em in his pock­et. He brought it out, said a pray­er, then com­posed the tune as he sang. Thus was born “The Nine­ty and Nine.”

This was Sank­ey’s first at­tempt at writ­ing a hymn tune. Not bad for a first try!

There were ninety and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the fold.
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold.
Away on the mountains wild and bare.
Away from the tender Shepherd’s care.
Away from the tender Shepherd’s care.

“Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine;
Are they not enough for Thee?”
But the Shepherd made answer: “This of Mine
Has wandered away from Me;
And although the road be rough and steep,
I go to the desert to find My sheep,
I go to the desert to find My sheep.”

But none of the ransomed ever knew
How deep were the waters crossed;
Nor how dark was the night the Lord passed through
Ere He found His sheep that was lost.
Out in the desert He heard its cry,
Sick and helpless and ready to die;
Sick and helpless and ready to die.

“Lord, whence are those blood drops all the way
That mark out the mountain’s track?”
“They were shed for one who had gone astray
Ere the Shepherd could bring him back.”
“Lord, whence are Thy hands so rent and torn?”
“They are pierced tonight by many a thorn;
They are pierced tonight by many a thorn.”

And all through the mountains, thunder riven
And up from the rocky steep,
There arose a glad cry to the gate of heaven,
“Rejoice! I have found My sheep!”
And the angels echoed around the throne,
“Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!
Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!”

 

[Dr. Bob]

Will­iam Cow­per (pronounce Cooper) wrote this as his final poem. Cow­per oft­en strug­gled with de­press­ion and doubt. One night he de­cid­ed to com­mit su­i­cide by drown­ing him­self. He called a cab and told the driv­er to take him to the Thames Riv­er. How­ev­er, thick fog came down and pre­vent­ed them from find­ing the riv­er. After driv­ing around lost for a while, the cab­by fin­al­ly stopped and let Cow­per out. To Cowper’s sur­prise, he found him­self back on his own door­step: God had sent the fog to keep him from kill­ing him­self. Even in our black­est mo­ments, God watch­es over us.

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

 

[Dr. Bob]

Blessed Assurance

Fanny Crosby wrote: "My friend, Mrs. Jo­seph F. Knapp, com­posed a mel­o­dy and played it over to me two or three times on the pi­a­no. She then asked what it said. I re­plied, 'Bles­sed as­sur­ance, Je­sus is mine!'"

This hymn was sung in the 1985 Acad­e­my Award win­ning mo­vie, “Trip to Bount­i­ful.”

“During the re­cent war in the Trans­vaal,” said Ira Sankey at a meet­ing in Ex­e­ter Hall, Lon­don, in 1900, “when the sol­diers go­ing to the front were pass­ing ano­ther bo­dy of sol­diers whom they re­cog­nized, their greet­ings used to be, ‘Four-nine-four, boys; four-nine-four;’ and the sa­lute would in­var­i­a­bly be an­swered with ‘Six fur­ther on, boys; six fur­ther on.’

The sig­nif­i­cance of this was that, in ‘Sac­red Songs and So­los,’ a num­ber of co­pies of the small edi­tion of which had been sent to the front, num­ber 494 was ‘God be with you un­til we meet again;’ and six fur­ther on than 494, or num­ber 500, was ‘Bless­ed As­sur­ance, Je­sus is mine.’”

Blessèd assurance, Jesus is mine!
O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

Refrain
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior, all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior, all the day long.

Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels descending bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Perfect submission, all is at rest
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

 

[Dr. Bob]

I Am Not Skilled to Understand

Dora Greenwell was a quiet spirit, born in 1821, and raised in a pastor's home at Ov­ing­ham Rec­to­ry, North­um­ber­land; Gol­borne Rec­to­ry, Lan­ca­shire; Dur­ham; and Clif­ton, near Bris­tol, where she died. Following her death, two collections of her works were published: A Present Heaven and Songs of Salvation.

Of ill health and never leading what would be considered a "normal" life of marriage or children, she did grasp the wonder of a sovereign God Who controled all things in her life.

I am not skilled to understand
What God hath willed, what God hath planned;
I only know that at His right hand
Is One Who is my Savior!

I take Him at His word indeed;
“Christ died for sinners”—this I read;
For in my heart I find a need
Of Him to be my Savior!

That He should leave His place on high
And come for sinful man to die,
You count it strange? So once did I,
Before I knew my Savior!

And oh, that He fulfilled may see
The travail of His soul in me,
And with His work contented be,
As I with my dear Savior!

Yea, living, dying, let me bring
My strength, my solace from this Spring;
That He Who lives to be my King
Once died to be my Savior!

 

[Dr. Bob]

I Am Resolved

Palmer Hartsough and James H. Fillmore, Sr. teamed to write words and music to be an encouragement and inspiration to believers from across the nation at the 1896 Convention of Christian Endeavor in San Francisco.

Words and music were spread to those traveling and fourteen trains of people sang the song on the way from the Midwest to the Convention, where it became a favorite. It was taken back to hundreds of churches across the nation, and we still enjoy singing it today!

I am resolved no longer to linger,
Charmed by the world’s delight,
Things that are higher, things that are nobler,
These have allured my sight.

Refrain
I will hasten to Him, hasten so glad and free;
Jesus, greatest, highest, I will come to Thee.
I will hasten, hasten to Him, hasten so glad and free;
Jesus, Jesus, greatest, highest, I will come to Thee.

I am resolved to go to the Savior,
Leaving my sin and strife;
He is the true One, He is the just One,
He hath the words of life.

I am resolved to follow the Savior,
Faithful and true each day;
Heed what He sayeth, do what He willeth,
He is the living Way.

I am resolved to enter the kingdom
Leaving the paths of sin;
Friends may oppose me, foes may beset me,
Still will I enter in.

I am resolved, and who will go with me?
Come, friends, without delay,
Taught by the Bible, led by the Spirit,
We’ll walk the heav’nly way.

 

[Dr. Bob]

I Love to Tell the Story

A. Katherine Hankey wrote these words in 1866. The lyrics are similar to those of Tell Me the Old, Old Story. Both come from Hankey’s poem “The Old, Old Story.”

Ira Sankey wrote of "a young man who appeared here from Bri­tish Co­lum­bia. He was in the Roy­al Ma­rines. He was a to­tal ab­stain­er and was do­ing all he could to pro­mote temp­er­ance among his com­rades. While here he went to church, and the cur­ate, who had a con­ver­sa­tion with him, was much pleased with his man­ly be­hav­ior and re­so­lute de­sire to do right. He wore a me­dal and had good con­duct marks on his clothes.

When this man was but a lit­tle boy, a faith Miss T. had picked up in Bat­ter­sea Park ma­ny years be­fore, and who had learned of the gos­pel of sal­va­tion en­tire­ly by list­en­ing to the maid­ser­vants sing­ing sac­red songs while scrub­bing the door­steps and clean­ing win­dows. The hymn that, as a child, he seemed to make en­tire­ly his own was, ‘I love to tell the sto­ry,’ though he knew sev­er­al others when he was picked up in the park.

As he had ne­ver been to church or ch­apel, the hymns were the on­ly chan­nel through which di­vine truth had been con­veyed to him, and by which the first seed was sown in his heart that made him a man of char­ac­ter and use­ful­ness.”

I love to tell the story of unseen things above,
Of Jesus and His glory, of Jesus and His love.
I love to tell the story, because I know ’tis true;
It satisfies my longings as nothing else can do.

Refrain
I love to tell the story, ’twill be my theme in glory,
To tell the old, old story of Jesus and His love.

I love to tell the story; more wonderful it seems
Than all the golden fancies of all our golden dreams.
I love to tell the story, it did so much for me;
And that is just the reason I tell it now to thee.

I love to tell the story; ’tis pleasant to repeat
What seems, each time I tell it, more wonderfully sweet.
I love to tell the story, for some have never heard
The message of salvation from God’s own holy Word.

I love to tell the story, for those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest.
And when, in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song,
’Twill be the old, old story that I have loved so long.

 

[Dr. Bob]

Judson W. Van DeVenter, wrote this song in 1896:

"The song was writ­ten while I was con­duct­ing a meet­ing at East Pal­es­tine, Ohio, in the home of George Seb­ring (found­er of the Seb­ring Camp­meet­ing Bi­ble Con­fer­ence in Seb­ring, Ohio, and lat­er de­vel­op­er of the town of Seb­ring, Flor­i­da).

For some time, I had strug­gled be­tween de­vel­op­ing my tal­ents in the field of art and go­ing into full-time evan­gel­is­tic work. At last the pi­vot­al hour of my life came, and I sur­ren­dered all. A new day was ushered in­to my life. I became an evang­el­ist and dis­cov­ered down deep in my soul a tal­ent hi­ther­to un­known to me. God had hid­den a song in my heart, and touch­ing a ten­der chord, He caused me to sing."

(Music was written by Winfield S. Weeden, and although he published a number of books of religious music, this song must have been one of his favorites: its title was on his tombstone.)

All to Jesus, I surrender;
All to Him I freely give;
I will ever love and trust Him,
In His presence daily live.

Refrain
I surrender all, I surrender all,
All to Thee, my blessèd Savior,
I surrender all.

All to Jesus I surrender;
Humbly at His feet I bow,
Worldly pleasures all forsaken;
Take me, Jesus, take me now.

All to Jesus, I surrender;
Make me, Savior, wholly Thine;
Let me feel the Holy Spirit,
Truly know that Thou art mine.

All to Jesus, I surrender;
Lord, I give myself to Thee;
Fill me with Thy love and power;
Let Thy blessing fall on me.

All to Jesus I surrender;
Now I feel the sacred flame.
O the joy of full salvation!
Glory, glory, to His Name!

 

[Dr. Bob]

Have Thine Own Way, Lord

In 1907, Adelaide A. Pollard was con­vinced the Lord want­ed her in Af­ri­ca as a mis­sion­a­ry. She tried to raise funds to go, but was un­suc­cess-ful. It was in this un­cer­tain state of mind that she at­tend­ed a pray­er meet­ing.

There, she heard an el­der­ly wo­man pray, “It’s all right, Lord. It does­n’t mat­ter what You bring in­to our lives, just have Your own way with us.” At home that night, much en­cour­aged, she wrote this hymn.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Thou art the Potter, I am the clay.
Mold me and make me after Thy will,
While I am waiting, yielded and still.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Search me and try me, Master, today!
Whiter than snow, Lord, wash me just now,
As in Thy presence humbly I bow.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Wounded and weary, help me, I pray!
Power, all power, surely is Thine!
Touch me and heal me, Savior divine.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Hold o’er my being absolute sway!
Fill with Thy Spirit ’till all shall see
Christ only, always, living in me.