When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Isaac Watts, the author of this universally loved hymn, is rightly regarded as the founder of English hymnody. Before his time, only a very few hymns, which were supplemented by crude versions of the Psalms, were sung in public worship. His father was the Deacon of a Congregational Chapel at Southampton, and young Isaac, who regularly attended the services, persistently complained to him of the indifferent quality of the hymns and Psalms which were then in use.
"Then give us something better, young man," was his father's curt reply. The young man determined to do so, and the following Sunday arrived with his first hymn. It was so favourably received that he was requested to write another. Thus began the reputation as a hymn writer of one whose songs of Zion are, to-day, sung throughout Christendom.
Isaac Watts was born on July 17th, 1674, at Southampton, [England], where his father kept a boarding school. Those were the days of early nonconformity, when religious zeal ran high, and young Isaac, on more than one occasion witnessed the imprisonment of his father, who, because of his settled religious convictions, was seized in his home and thrown into prison.
Of a studious nature, Watts at an early age gave evidence of a desire to enter the ministry, and after fulfilling the position of tutor in the family of a county gentleman, he eventually became pastor of the famous Independent congregation in Mark Lane, London. Up to this time, while prosecuting his studies, Watts had been busy with pen and notebook, and many of his hymns were written around that period. Never very robust in constitution, the strain brought on by his strenuous work began to make itself evident, and continued ill-health compelled him to give up all regular pastoral duties.
At the kind invitation of Sir Thomas and Lady Abney, Watts repaired to their country seat at Theobalds, in Hertfordshire, for a change of air. The visit, intended for a week, resulted in a prolonged stay of thirty years, where he was a loved and honoured guest. At all times, and under varied circumstances, the poet-preacher remembered God, and sought to glorify Him in the furnace of affliction. And God remembered him, "giving him songs in the night, songs in the house of his pilgrimage, songs that make him to the end of time, a tower of strength to the weak and desponding, and indeed a veritable inspiration to all sorts and conditions of men."
Dr. Watts died on November 25th, 1748, at the age of seventy-four, and was buried in the Puritan resting-place at Bunhill Fields, London, not far from the grave of John Bunyan.
Watts wrote about six hundred hymns, and there are few hymnal collections in use to-day which do not contain many of his compositions. Of all his hymns, "When I survey the wondrous cross," is perhaps, the finest. But Watts gave to posterity many others of outstanding merit, chief among which we have:
O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.
This hymn, which in the original is given, "Our God, our help," is a paraphrase of the 90th Psalm, and was first published in 1719. Possibly because of its frequent use on eventful occasions, at times of national stress, as well as at times of public thanksgiving, this grand old hymn has endeared itself to us in a peculiar and fascinating way.
Many of the hymns of Watts were sung for the first time from manuscript by his congregation, the object being that he might accentuate the teaching he had endeavoured to carry to the hearts of his hearers.
Especially is this observed in the following forcible lines, where the writer emphasizes the value and virtue of Christ's atoning death:
Not all the blood of beasts,
On Jewish altars slain,
Could give the guilty conscience peace,
Or wash away one stain.
A story is told of a young Jewess who was saved in a remarkable way through this hymn. She had been out shopping, and had returned home with the provisions for her household. When unwrapping some paper from a package the first verses of this hymn caught her eye, and she read on. This was strange news to her, and try as she would, she was unable to shake off the impression created by such startling words; so she obtained a Bible and eagerly sought the truth. It was thus that the young Jewess found in Jesus the true Messiah and Lord, through whom she obtained eternal redemption.
It was one of Watts' hymns that was used in the conversion of Fanny Crosby, the blind hymn writer. But long before that November day in 1850, and since then, many a seeking soul has been drawn to the foot of the cross at the sweet sound of the same tender lines:
Alas! and did my Saviour bleed?
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?
Other hymns by Dr. Watts in frequent use amongst the various assemblies are, "Come, let us join our cheerful songs," "Unto the Lamb that once was slain," "With joy we meditate the grace," and that exultant song of praise so fittingly set to the old Psalm tune "Darwells"—
Join all the glorious names
Of wisdom, love and power,
That mortals ever knew,
That angels ever bore;
All are too mean to speak His worth,
Too mean to set our Saviour forth.
We are indebted to Watts for that fine missionary hymn, "Jesus shall reign," which equals in popularity, even if it does not altogether surpass Reginald Heber's "From Greenland's icy mountains." Throughout the world it has been sung at missionary meetings of almost every Christian denomination; but surely on no more remarkable occasion than when it was sung by a great gathering of native Christians in the South Sea Islands. Their king, having been rescued from the power of sin and darkness, bestowed on his nation a new constitution, exchanging a heathen for a Christian form of government. "Under the spreading branches of the banyan trees," writes Mr. G. J. Stevenson when describing the incident, "sat some thousand natives from Tonga, Fiji and Samoa, on Whit-Sunday, 1862, assembled for divine worship. Foremost amongst them all sat King George himself. Around him were seated old chiefs and warriors who had shared with him die dangers and fortunes of many a battle—men whose eyes were dim, and whose powerful frames were bowed down with the weight of years. But old and young alike rejoiced together in the joys of that day, their faces, most of them radiant with Christian joy, love and hope." It would be impossible to describe the deep feeling manifested when the solemn service began, by the entire audience singing Dr. Watts' hymn:
Jesus shall reign where e'er the sun
Does his successive journeys run;
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
What a memorable day that must have been! Those dark-skinned natives, whose lives had been spent in heathenism of the basest description, were that day met for the first time under a Christian constitution, and with Christ Himself reigning in the hearts of most of them, they doubtless realized in a peculiar way, the truth of the words they sang:
Blessings abound where e'er He reigns;
The prisoner leaps to loose his chains;
The weary find eternal rest,
And all the sons of want are blest.
From Stories and Sketches of Our Hymns and Their Writers by David J. Beattie. Kilmarnock, Scotland: John Ritchie, [1934].
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