"The Maker of all these wonders is my friend!"

From Patrick Kurp's "I Myself Perhaps May Proceed Also" on William Cowper:

Here is Cowper on May 3, 1780, writing to his friend the Rev. John Newton and making piety playful:

I delight in baubles, and know them to be so; for rested in, and viewed without a reference to their author, what is the Earth, what are the planets, what is the sun itself, but a bauble? Better for a man never to have seen them, or to see them with the eyes of a brute, stupid and unconscious of what he beholds, than not to be able to say, ‘The Maker of all these wonders is my friend!’ Their eyes have never been opened, to see that they are trifles; mine have been, and will be till they are closed for ever.”

Cowper’s metaphors often mingle playfulness and precision. A bauble is a plaything, a toy or trinket. Cowper finds in them an endorsement of his faith.

Patrick Kurp, "I Myself Perhaps May Proceed Also," Anecdotal Evidence, May 3, 2026.

"Yet I will rejoice"

Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines,
The produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold, and there be no herd in the stalls,
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength; He makes my feet like the deer’s.
He makes me tread on high places. 

Habakkuk 3:17-19 [ESV]

The final verse of Cowper's hymn is based on that passage from Habakkuk. It is a favorite hymn of mine, although several others of Cowper's are, too.

Sometimes a light surprises the Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises with healing in His wings:
When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining, to cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation, we sweetly then pursue
The theme of God’s salvation, and find it ever new.
Set free from present sorrow, we cheerfully can say,
'E'en let th' unknown tomorrow bring with it what it may.

It can bring with it nothing, but He will bear us through.
Who gives the lilies clothing will clothe His people, too;
Beneath the spreading heavens, no creature but is fed;
And He Who feeds the ravens will give His children bread.

Though vine, nor fig tree, neither, their wonted fruit should bear,
Tho' all the field should wither, nor flocks, nor herds, be there,
Yet God, the same abiding, His praise shall tune my voice
For while in Him confiding, I cannot but rejoice.
(William Cowper, c. 1779)

Poets' Corner - William Cowper: Olney Hymns

"A poem is speech raised to the level of song"

A fairly long post quoting from a substantially longer, and worthwhile,  article: Dana Gioia on "Christianity and Poetry":

It is impossible to understand the full glory of Christianity without understanding its poetry.

Why should anyone believe such a claim? Let’s start with Scripture, the universal foundation of Christianity. No believer can ignore the curious fact that one-third of the Bible is written in verse. Sacred poetry is not confined to the Psalms, the Song of Songs, and Lamentations. The prophetic books are written mostly in verse. The wisdom books—­Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes—are all poems, each in a different genre. There are also poetic passages in the five books of Moses and the later histories. ....

There are no books of verse in the New Testament, but poetry is woven into the fabric of both the Gospels and the Epistles. What are the Beatitudes but a poem carefully shaped in the tradition of prophetic verse? The Book of Apocalypse (or Revelation in the Protestant Bible) is a prose poem, full of sound and symbol. Some scholars believe that the original Aramaic version of the Lord’s Prayer was in verse. ....

Poetry is the most concise, expressive, and memorable way of using words. It is a special way of speaking that shapes the sound and rhythm of words. In the ancient world, most poems were sung or chanted. That musical identity remains central to the art. A poem is speech raised to the level of song; it casts a momentary spell over the listener. People hear it differently from ordinary talk. ....

For Christian poetry, however, it is possible to assign its emergence to a specific moment: Mary’s announcement of the Incarnation. Christian poetry begins—quite literally—at the first moment in which Christ is announced to humanity. That origin demonstrates the supreme and inextricable importance of poetry to Christian experience. In Scripture, verse is the idiom for the revelation of mystery. ....

...Christian authors tend to see the world in characteristic ways. This is especially true of the Anglo-­Catholic traditions that have been the mainstream of English religious poetry. Christian poets see humanity struggling in a fallen world. They recognize humanity’s imperfection and the temptations of both the flesh and the spirit. Mankind is in need of grace and redemption. Evil exists, but the physical world is not evil. All creation is charged with divine glory, though God himself remains invisible. Jesus has redeemed humanity through his incarnation, death, and resurrection. Salvation is available to all who follow Christ’s way. The individual life finds meaning in its journey toward death and eternity. Finally, these poets have a double sense of reality; behind the material world, they feel another realm of existence—invisible, eternal, and divine—to which they also belong. One purpose of religious poetry is to make that hidden world tangible. ....

The seventeenth century is the greatest period of religious poetry in English. Indeed, it equals any period of Christian verse in any language. The explosive intellectual energy of the Protestant Reformation found expression in the English poetic imagination. The measure of its spiritual stature is demonstrated not only by the quality and diversity of its major poets—John Donne, George ­Herbert, Henry Vaughan, Thomas Traherne, Andrew ­Marvell, John Milton, and John Dryden (as well as English-born Anne Bradstreet); it is also evident in their passionate interest in spiritual matters. ....

Vaughan required no elaborate rhetoric to report the vision afforded by his prayers.

I saw Eternity the other night
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm, as it was bright;
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,
Driven by the spheres
Like a vast shadow moved...

.... The three greatest hymnists of English literature appeared in quick succession: Isaac Watts, Charles Wesley, and William Cowper. Although their ­theology was consistent with that of Herbert and Vaughan, their style was radically different. They were not concerned with articulating their private sensibilities; they sought to voice the common aspirations of Christians gathered in worship.

A hymn is no less poetic than a sonnet, but it avoids complex soliloquy. If poetry is language raised to the level of song, a hymn is a poem to be sung in chorus. Great hymns are rarer than great poems because their transparent simplicity reveals any flaw. They must be direct in both meaning and emotion and yet deliver musical and memorable language. Hymns are not meant to survive as texts alone; they live in their musical settings. Nonetheless a few make a joyful noise even on the silent page:

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.

Mystical poets seek to extinguish their individual consciousness by merging with the divine. Few manage this difficult ascent. Hymnists allow the members of a congregation to merge their separate souls into a united body of the gathered church. ....

Christianity has survived into the twenty-first century, but it has not come through unscathed. It has kept its head and its heart—the clarity of its beliefs and its compassionate mission. The problem is that it has lost its senses, all five of them. ....

These things matter because we are incarnate beings. We see the shape and feel the texture of things. We instinctively know that the form of a thing is part of its meaning. We are drawn to beauty, not logic. Our experience of the divine is not primarily intellectual. We feel it with our bodies. We picture it in our imaginations. We hear it as a voice inside us. We are grateful for an explanation, but we crave inspiration, communion, rapture, epiphany. .... (more)

Dana Gioia, "Christianity and Poetry," First Things, August, 2022.

Set free

William Cowper, who often suffered depression, wrote Sometimes a Light Surprises in 1779:

Sometimes a light surprises the Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord, who rises with healing in His wings:
When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining, to cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation we sweetly then pursue
The theme of God’s salvation, and find it ever new.
Set free from present sorrow, we cheerfully can say,
Let the unknown tomorrow bring with it what it may.

It can bring with it nothing but He will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing will clothe His people, too;
Beneath the spreading heavens, no creature but is fed;
And He Who feeds the ravens will give His children bread.

Though vine nor fig tree neither their wonted fruit should bear,
Though all the field should wither, nor flocks nor herds be there;
Yet God the same abiding, His praise shall tune my voice,
For while in Him confiding, I cannot but rejoice.

Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines;
the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat;
the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls:
Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will joy in the God of my salvation.

Habakkuk 3:17-18 (KJV)

"Have you no words?"

From Hymns by William Cowper, 1779:

29. Exhortation to Prayer.

What various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy seat! Yet who that knows the worth of prayer, But wishes to be often there?	While Moses stood with arms spread wide, Success was found on Israel's side; But when through weariness they fail'd, That moment Amalek prevail'd.
Prayer makes the darken'd cloud withdraw,      Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw, Gives exercise to faith and love, Brings every blessing from above.	Have you no words? Ah, think again, Words flow apace when you complain, And fill your fellow-creature's ear With the sad tale of all your care.
Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright;     And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.	Were half the breath thus vainly spent To heaven in supplication sent, Your cheerful song would oftener be, "Hear what the Lord has done for me."

Willaim Cowper's Hymns, This hymn: What Various Hindrances We Meet

"Fresh courage take..."

The performance omits the fifth verse

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants His footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm.	Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill He treasures up His bright designs And works His gracious will.	His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break In blessings on your head.	Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.

William Cowper, 1774

"Yet God the same abiding..."

An important reminder in contentious times:

William Cowper, who often suffered depression, wrote Sometimes a Light Surprises in 1779:

Sometimes a light surprises the Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord, who rises with healing in His wings:
When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining, to cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation we sweetly then pursue
The theme of God’s salvation, and find it ever new.
Set free from present sorrow, we cheerfully can say,
Let the unknown tomorrow bring with it what it may.

It can bring with it nothing but He will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing will clothe His people, too;
Beneath the spreading heavens, no creature but is fed;
And He Who feeds the ravens will give His children bread.

Though vine nor fig tree neither their wonted fruit should bear,
Though all the field should wither, nor flocks nor herds be there;
Yet God the same abiding, His praise shall tune my voice,
For while in Him confiding, I cannot but rejoice.

And from a reflection on that great hymn, I've excerpted this portion about the final verse:

Cowper chose the text from Habakkuk 3 for the fourth and final verse of "Sometimes a Light Surprises." It is an interesting choice for a number of reasons. First of all, it is likely that Habakkuk was a musician. Scholars believe that Habakkuk was a Levite and associated with the temple singers. The last chapter of Habakkuk is in the form of a liturgy with a prophetic prayer meant to be sung.

Secondly, Habakkuk 3 includes the language of lament and, according to one commentator, "provides one of the most moving statements of faith and trust found in Scripture (vv. 16-19)." There is something about honest lament that bridges our limited, finite humanity with our infinite, covenant Lord.

Often when we look around at our circumstances we want to cry out, "Lord, what are you doing? What is going on?" There is something telling in this kind of stark and honest dialogue with God. It may seem obvious, but lament, rather than revealing a distance from God, reveals that an actual relationship is intact. When we feel close enough to God to talk to him honestly about our circumstances, intimacy is revealed. Moreover, it is often through intimate, honest lament that clarity is received. Though it begins with a description of tough circumstances, Cowper's lyric ends with the assurance of God's faithfulness: "yet God the same abideth, his praise shall tune my voice, for while in him confiding, I cannot but rejoice." ....

Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.

Habakkuk 3:17-18 (KJV)

Sometimes a Light Surprises: The Treasured Gift of a Troubled Soul – The Gospel Coalition Blog

Singing together

Barton Swaim in the Wall Street Journal:

.... Almost the only people who still sing together are the religious.

The Christian tradition to which I’ve belonged most of my life—the Reformed tradition of Protestantism—is not famous for its contributions to the western musical canon. But it is famous for its hymns and hymn-singing. The Lutherans have Bach; the Catholics have Monteverdi and Mozart and many others; the Reformed have ... Louis Bourgeois. He compiled and composed hundreds of fine hymn tunes in Geneva during the 1540s, including “Old 100th,” to which many Protestant congregations sing the “doxology.”

The great majority of the Anglophone world’s best hymns have emerged from the Reformed tradition—either from Presbyterianism or the evangelical side of Anglicanism. While the rest of 18th-century Europe was awash in ideas of the Enlightenment, the Reformed in Britain, Ireland and North America wrote hymns. The hymns of Isaac Watts and John Newton, John and Charles Wesley, and William Cowper are models of poetic efficiency: fresh ideas, evocative phrasing, natural rhymes. From Watts’s “O God Our Help in Ages Past”: “Time, like an ever-rolling stream, / Bears all its sons away; / They fly, forgotten as a dream / Dies at the opening day.” The 19th century produced many other gifted hymn writers associated with the Reformed wing of Protestantism, foremost among them Reginald Heber, Cecil Frances Alexander and Frances Ridley Havergal. ....

.... There is something mysteriously fortifying about the act of singing together. Oral and chest cavities vibrating in rhythmic unison—which is all corporate singing is—creates a peculiar companionship among people who, apart from their creed, may have little else in common. You might barely know the lady in the pew next to you, but when you sing a common song or hymn together, she may as well be your auntie.

It is one of the great tragedies of modern Western life that people so infrequently sing together. We may sing in the car or the shower, but mostly we listen to soloists gurgle the nonsense lines of pop songs. Somehow, with the rise of radio and recorded songs in the last century, we stopped singing together. .... (more, probably behind a subscription wall)

O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing - WSJ

Originality

From Anecdotal Evidence this morning:

It takes a singular individual, one who is unfashionably non-aligned, to acknowledge his dependence on the work of others. .... Originality is a pernicious myth. Something truly original would be a horrifying blank, or chaos. We all come from somewhere.... Simon Leys writes in “The Experience of Literary Translation” (The Hall of Uselessness: Collected Essays, 2013):

“String together all the pages that you have copied out over the course of your readings and, without there being a single line by you, the ensemble may turn out to be the most accurate portrait of your mind and your heart. Such mosaics of quotations resemble pictorial ‘collages’: all the elements are borrowed, but together they form original pictures.”

I'm pretty sure I've never had an original thought.

Anecdotal Evidence: 'Accurate Portrait of Your Mind and Your Heart'

"Redeeming love has been my theme"

Today Jonathan Aigner offers "9 Hymns for Those Struggling with Anxiety and Depression." He writes:

I’m not going to tell you what others might have; that if you just praise God all your troubles will melt away. Those are evil lies. Reliance upon God doesn’t melt away your troubles, and those who say so have either had terribly easy lives or, more likely, are lost in religious delusion. But what these hymns, and especially worship in Word and Sacrament, can do is to aid us in seeing the world, and ourselves, through a Christ and cross-shaped lens. Then in the midst of the deepest, darkest night of the soul, we can find the tiny morsel of faith we need to keep going. ....

It's good selection of hymns; all but one familiar to me. One of them is the great Cowper hymn "There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood" about which he writes:

This is one of those hymns that has fallen out of favor in recent years because of its so-called “blood and guts” theology, an issue exacerbated by sadomasochistic neo-calvinists. But on the other hand, without the shedding of blood we’re all screwed, regardless of our particular theological bent. So, in or out of favor, this hymn will be sung at my funeral, if only because nobody likes to argue with a corpse. And the organist will have explicit instructions to play this early American hymn tune with strength, sobriety, and dignity. Though at times my words are feeble and few, redeeming love shall be my everlasting theme, in this life, and the life to come.

He includes a YouTube Sacred Harp singing of that hymn:

Aigner provides five stanzas — not all performed above:

There is a fountain filled with blood Drawn from Immanuel’s veins; And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,        Lose all their guilty stains: Lose all their guilty stains, Lose all their guilty stains; And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains.	E’er since by faith I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die: And shall be till I die, And shall be till I die; Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die.
The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain in his day; And there may I, though vile as he, Wash all my sins away: Wash all my sins away, Wash all my sins away; And there may I, though vile as he, Wash all my sins away.	When this poor lisping, stamm’ring tongue Lies silent in the grave, Then in a nobler, sweeter song I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save: I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save, I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save; then in a nobler, sweeter song I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save.
Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood Shall never lose its pow’r, Till all the ransomed Church of God Be saved, to sin no more: Be saved, to sin no more, Be saved, to sin no more; Till all the ransomed Church of God Be saved to sin no more.

9 Hymns for Those Struggling with Anxiety and Depression | Jonathan Aigner

Hasty reasoners

Via Anecdotal Evidence, a letter from William Cowper to John Newton on this date in 1781:

Discoverers of truth are generally sober, modest, and humble; and if their discoveries are less valued by mankind than they deserve to be, can bear the disappointment with patience and equality of temper. But hasty reasoners and confident asserters are generally wedded to an hypothesis, and transported with joy at their fancied acquisitions, are impatient under contradiction, and grow wild at the thoughts of a refutation.

Anecdotal Evidence: 'And Made Himself a Jest to the Bystander'

"Yet I will rejoice..."

William Cowper, who often suffered depression, wrote Sometimes a Light Surprises in 1779:

Sometimes a light surprises the Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord, who rises with healing in His wings:
When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining, to cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation we sweetly then pursue
The theme of God’s salvation, and find it ever new.
Set free from present sorrow, we cheerfully can say,
Let the unknown tomorrow bring with it what it may.

It can bring with it nothing but He will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing will clothe His people, too;
Beneath the spreading heavens, no creature but is fed;
And He Who feeds the ravens will give His children bread.

Though vine nor fig tree neither their wonted fruit should bear,
Though all the field should wither, nor flocks nor herds be there;
Yet God the same abiding, His praise shall tune my voice,
For while in Him confiding, I cannot but rejoice.

And from a reflection on that great hymn, I've excerpted this portion about the final verse:

Cowper chose the text from Habakkuk 3 for the fourth and final verse of "Sometimes a Light Surprises." It is an interesting choice for a number of reasons. First of all, it is likely that Habakkuk was a musician. Scholars believe that Habakkuk was a Levite and associated with the temple singers. The last chapter of Habakkuk is in the form of a liturgy with a prophetic prayer meant to be sung.

Secondly, Habakkuk 3 includes the language of lament and, according to one commentator, "provides one of the most moving statements of faith and trust found in Scripture (vv. 16-19)." There is something about honest lament that bridges our limited, finite humanity with our infinite, covenant Lord.

Often when we look around at our circumstances we want to cry out, "Lord, what are you doing? What is going on?" There is something telling in this kind of stark and honest dialogue with God. It may seem obvious, but lament, rather than revealing a distance from God, reveals that an actual relationship is intact. When we feel close enough to God to talk to him honestly about our circumstances, intimacy is revealed. Moreover, it is often through intimate, honest lament that clarity is received. Though it begins with a description of tough circumstances, Cowper's lyric ends with the assurance of God's faithfulness: "yet God the same abideth, his praise shall tune my voice, for while in him confiding, I cannot but rejoice." ....

Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: 18 Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.

Habakkuk 3:17-18 (KJV)

Sometimes a Light Surprises: The Treasured Gift of a Troubled Soul – The Gospel Coalition Blog

Fresh courage take

The performance above omits the fifth verse below.

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants His footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm.	Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill He treasures up His bright designs And works His gracious will.	His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break In blessings on your head.	Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.

William Cowper, 1774

"The cloud clear'd away"

From a newly discovered letter from William Wilberforce to a 14 year old girl:

.... A Traveller on an open Common in such a Storm of Hail & Rain as we had this Morning would find his spirits cheered by seeing on the distant horizon, the Cloud clear'd away and the Sky looking sunny and cheerful. So you, I doubt not, can view the Sunshine gilding Your future prospect. And yours my dear Girl is a Sun which will never go down, but will get brighter & brighter with a Warmth & brilliance, of which now you can have no conception. I dare say you know & like Cowper. He, you know, speaks of "a Vault unsullied with a Cloud." Now therefore accustom yourself to think "the Scene around me is gloomy and darksome, but a friendly and, that a divine Hand of a kind and loving Saviour, is leading me on the Way He sees best for me, & in His own good time He will bring me into the Light.

As I know He is Truth itself, he cannot deceive me & He has promised to be a Shepherd full of kindness as well as Care to the Lambs of His flock. He would not let me suffer pain if He were not persuaded it would be for my benefit and I will therefore receive all and submit to it all He orders for me, as that which is sure to be more than made up to me. So that if more I have to bear now, the more I shall have to rejoice hereafter. ....

The post at Quaerentia explains how the letter was found and explains why Wilberforce would emphasize such matters when writing to a young girl.

Quaerentia :: A Sky Unsullied by Clouds: William Wilberforce gives hope to a 14 year old girl in pain

"Now stir the fire, and close the shutters..."

Patrick Kurp who blogs at Anecdotal Evidence suggests, with John Betjeman, that some things are best read in a particular environment:

Here is Sir John Betjeman writing in First and Last Loves (John Murray, 1952):

“Every winter I read The Task by William Cowper, and twice or thrice those wonderful books in it where he describes a Winter Evening, a Winter Morning and a Winter Walk at Noon. The frost blades of north Buckinghamshire, the snowed-over woodlands, the dog that gamboled in the snow, the bells and post horns, the cups of tea, melted, dead, silenced, evaporated for nearly two hundred years, come to life again.”

Betjeman (1906-1984) is a poet and chronicler of English buildings and places who, I sense, has never successfully crossed the Atlantic, perhaps because he sounds so very English to American ears. He writes in a tone we might call enlightened nostalgia....

.... Consider this passage from, Book IV, “The Winter Evening”:

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And, while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful ev’ning in.

With Collins and Smart, Cowper was one of the mad English poets of the eighteenth century. At least three times he tried to take his own life, and he spent years in various asylums. His faith and the writing of hymns were his refuge, as was the cozy winter world he depicts in The Task. You can see why Betjeman habitually read the poem during the cold months. He continues:

“Winter is the time for reading poetry and often I discover for myself some minor English poet, a country parson who on just such a night must have sat in his study and blown sand off lines like these, written in ink made of oak-gall:

Soon as eve closes, the loud-hooting owl
That loves the turbulent and frosty night
Perches aloft upon the rocking elm
And hallooes to the moon.”

The author of those lines is a poet new to me, the Rev. James Hurdis (1763-1801), a vicar in West Sussex. The passage comes from “The Favourite Village,” published in 1800, the year of Cowper’s death. .... [more]

Anecdotal Evidence: `The Smell of the Old Book'

"Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take"

This morning I am leading a worship service comprised entirely of scriptures and hymns chosen for their relevance to the theme "We worship God because He is our Help." The texts of all the hymns are by William Cowper (1731-1800).

Worship Theme:

“We worship God because He is our help”

Meditation Verses:

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God,

to them who are called according to His purpose.

[Romans 8: 28]

I. He cares about His people.

Pulpit Readings: Exodus 2:23-25; Judges 2:18; Psalm 102:1-11, 25-27, 19-20.
Hymn: “O For a Closer Walk With God”    (William Cowper, 1769)

O for a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame, A light to shine upon the road   That leads me to the Lamb!	Return, O holy Dove, return, Sweet messenger of rest! I hate the sins that made Thee mourn And drove Thee from my breast.
Where is the blessedness I knew, When first I saw the Lord? Where is the soul refreshing view   Of Jesus and His Word?	The dearest idol I have known, Whate’er that idol be Help me to tear it from Thy throne, And worship only Thee.
What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!    How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.	So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb.

Pulpit Readings: Psalm 77:1-9; Psalm 22:1-5
Hymn: “God Moves in a Mysterious Way”     (William Cowper, 1773)

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants His footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm.	Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill He treasures up His bright designs And works His sovereign will.	His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;    The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break In blessings on your head.	Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.

II. He endured suffering.

Responsive Reading:

Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the LORD revealed?
For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground:
He hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.
He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief:
And we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows:
Yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities:
The chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way;
And the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.
He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth:
He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.
He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation?
For he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken.
And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death;
Because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.
Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise him; he hath put him to grief:
When thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the LORD shall prosper in his hand.
He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied:
By his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities.
Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong;
Because he hath poured out his soul unto death: and he was numbered with the transgressors;
And he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors. [Isaiah 53:1-12]

A trusting heart

Kevin White at Mere Orthodoxy on William Cowper's God Moves in a Mysterious Way, one of the finest hymn lyrics:

Cowper

.... William Cowper lived a tragically sorrowful life. At what should have been a triumphant moment in his career, he fell into a suicidal depression. For the rest of his life, he was plagued by years-long spells of depression and delusion. Some of his delusions were too horrifying to relate here. John Newton’s sermon at Cowper’s funeral gives a frank account, though it is, I repeat, a disturbing read.

Cowper wrote this particular hymn around the time of the onset of one of his relapses, the one that Newton mentions as beginning in 1773.  When he writes of dreadful clouds and “a frowning providence,” he describes the oncoming storm in his heart and mind. He speaks, in short, from the place of grievous experience. ....

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

Cowper forthrightly sets the theme of the song: the mystery of God and His providence. We cannot see His reasoning or plans, even if something of His broader purpose has been revealed. ....

White provides good commentary on each of the verses, from which I have selected only a few of his paragraphs. Continuing with the verses:

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.

The dreadful cloud is full to bursting, and its storm will surely break on your head. But beyond the ominous outward appearances, there is mercy even in the thundercloud and blessings in the oncoming storm. The mercies and blessings may not be readily visible, but the eye that sees the divine goodness, as we shall see, is the eye that sees with faith.

This is where the context of Cowper’s suffering is vital. This is no saccharine promise of gaining your best life now. .... It comes from a man who has known despair in its most irrational of depths, but still girds himself to trust in God’s good providence.

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

Cowper speaks directly. Trust in the God of grace, and do not judge the Lord by outward appearances. Here Cowper says no more than what Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 2:17-18:

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

The trusting heart can understand what cannot be seen. The breakers and waves may cover you. The fierce storm may break out on your head. It may feel as if God is frowning over you. These are all too visible to the eye. But the wisdom of the matter is, at present, hidden in God’s deep mines. It remains unseen, along with the divine smile, because it rest in the Eternal One.

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.

Now Cowper comes to the bottom line. His words about unbelief are not meant to be a slur on those who lack faith. Rather, it is to say that God’s purposes can only be perceived from the perspective of a well-formed faith. It is similar with human relationships. If things look bad, we will only believe, or even listen to, someone’s explanation if we are already inclined to trust them.

Cowper is, in essence, suggesting the posture of “faith seeking understanding.” Unless we begin with a posture of trust, informed by God’s public revelation in Scripture, we will not see the broader picture. .... [more]

Related: Leading from the Pit (of Depression): How Can You Be a Spiritual Leader When You Can't Get out of Bed?

Reading the Hymns: God Moves In a Mysterious Way | Mere Orthodoxy | Christianity, Politics, and Culture

Cowper

The words of several of my favorite hymns were by William Cowper. Barton Swaim thinks it regrettable that Cowper isn't taken more seriously as a poet:

.... Cowper ought to be better known, but he won’t be. For one thing, his biography doesn’t hold one’s attention easily. Apart from his conversion to evangelical Christianity, friendship with John Newton, and three major bouts with depression and madness, his life passed without event; he lived in quiet seclusion for the bulk of it; indeed, apart from the hymns he wrote in 1771 and 1772, he didn’t even begin writing poetry in a serious way until he had reached his fifties. ....

.... It was Newton who concluded that Cowper needed something to do, and he urged him to write hymns. The result was a collection of sixty-seven hymns—the Olney Hymns, named for the village where Cowper lived at the time—that are among the best in English. Hymns are no longer taken seriously by literary scholars. (I once asked a highly regarded academic why the great hymn writers are ignored by scholars of English literature; his answer was that hymns are “committed,” as if a poem’s commitment to anything invalidates it.) But hymns have just as much right to be treated as poetry as the works of Shelley or Yeats. They are, for one thing, harder to write well than other forms because the poet doesn’t have the luxury of veering from the meter even by a syllable.

Cowper’s hymns, like those of Watts and Wesley, have a natural, fluid sound despite the confinement of the form—and often despite the presence of highly conceptual language. From “God Moves in a Mysterious Way”:

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill;
He treasures up his bright designs
And works his sovereign will [...]

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

[more]

Discovering Cowper by Barton Swaim - The New Criterion

Depression

Re-posted

Kathryn Greene-McCreight, who suffers from depression, in Christianity Today, "Light When All is Dark":

Lord Jesus Christ, you are for me medicine when I am sick;
you are my strength when I need help;
you are life itself when I fear death;
you are the way when I long for heaven;
you are light when all is dark;
you are my food when I need nourishment.
—Ambrose of Milan (340-397)

....In his Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis says that suffering is uniquely difficult for the Christian, for the one who believes in a good God. If there were no good God to factor into the equation, suffering would still be painful, but ultimately meaningless, because random. For the Christian, who believes in the crucified and risen Messiah, suffering is always meaningful. It is meaningful because of the one in whose suffering we participate, Jesus. This is neither to say, of course, that suffering will be pleasant, nor that it should be sought. Rather, in the personal suffering of the Christian, one finds a correlate in Christ's suffering, which gathers up our tears and calms our sorrows and points us toward his resurrection.

In the midst of a major mental illness, we are often unable to sense the presence of God at all. Sometimes all we can feel is the complete absence of God, utter abandonment by God, the sheer ridiculousness of the very notion of a loving and merciful God. This cuts to the very heart of the Christian and challenges everything we believe about the world and ourselves. ....

Depression is not just sadness or sorrow. Depression is not just negative thinking. Depression is not just being "down." .... When I am depressed, every thought, every breath, every conscious moment hurts. ....

And yet the Christian faith has a word of real hope, especially for those who suffer mentally. Hope is found in the risen Christ. Suffering is not eliminated by his resurrection, but transformed by it. Christ's resurrection kills even the power of death, and promises that God will wipe away every tear on that final day. But we still have tears in the present. We still die. In God's future, however, death itself will die. ....

The hope of the Resurrection is not just optimism, but keeps the Christian facing ever toward the future, not merely dwelling in the present. .... All Creation will be redeemed from pain and woe. In my bouts with mental illness, this understanding of Christian hope gives comfort and encouragement, even if no relief from symptoms. Sorrowing and sighing will be no more. Tears will be wiped away. Even fractious brains will be restored.

Bring us, O Lord God, at our last awakening into the house and gate of heaven, to enter into that gate and dwell in that house, where there shall be no darkness nor dazzling, but one equal light; no noise nor silence, but one equal music; no fears nor hopes, but one equal possession; no ends nor beginnings, but one equal eternity; in the habitations of your glory and dominion, world without end. —John Donne (1572-1631)

 William Cowper, who also suffered from depression, wrote Sometimes a Light Surprises in 1779:

Sometimes a light surprises the Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord, who rises with healing in His wings:
When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining, to cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation we sweetly then pursue
The theme of God’s salvation, and find it ever new.
Set free from present sorrow, we cheerfully can say,
Let the unknown tomorrow bring with it what it may.

It can bring with it nothing but He will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing will clothe His people, too;
Beneath the spreading heavens, no creature but is fed;
And He Who feeds the ravens will give His children bread.

Though vine nor fig tree neither their wonted fruit should bear,
Though all the field should wither, nor flocks nor herds be there;
Yet God the same abiding, His praise shall tune my voice,
For while in Him confiding, I cannot but rejoice.

Light When All Is Dark | Christianity Today | A Magazine of Evangelical Conviction, Sometimes a Light Surprises

An exhortation to Prayer

From Hymns by William Cowper, 1779:
29. Exhortation to Prayer.

What various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy seat! Yet who that knows the worth of prayer, But wishes to be often there?	While Moses stood with arms spread wide, Success was found on Israel's side; But when through weariness they fail'd, That moment Amalek prevail'd.
Prayer makes the darken'd cloud withdraw,      Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw, Gives exercise to faith and love, Brings every blessing from above.	Have you no words? Ah, think again, Words flow apace when you complain, And fill your fellow-creature's ear With the sad tale of all your care.
Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright; And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.	Were half the breath thus vainly spent To heaven in supplication sent, Your cheerful song would oftener be, "Hear what the Lord has done for me."

Willaim Cowper's Hymns, The hymn: What Various Hindrances We Meet