Story of the Song, "Jesus Paid it All" July 24, 2011

“Jesus Paid it All,” the Story of the Song.

“Jesus Paid it All” was written by Elvina M. Hall (1820-1889) with the tune, “All to Christ,” by John T. Grape (1835-1915). It is based on 1 Peter 2:24 which states, “He, Himself, bore our sins in His body.”

 Ira D. Sankey (1840-1908) known, himself,  as the “Sweet Voice of Methodism ,”  an American Gospel singer and composer of music for such hymns as "Faith Is the Victory," "Trusting Jesus," and "Under His Wings," wrote about “All to Jesus.” Sankey was an associate of D. L. Moody and Spurgeon in evangelistic work in the U.S. and abroad as solo singer/music director. Sankey quotes Mr. Grape as stating the following.

Our church was un­der­go­ing re­pairs, and the cab­i­net or­gan was placed in my care. Thus af­ford­ed a plea­sure not be­fore en­joyed, I de­light­ed my­self in play­ing over some of our Sun­day school hymns. I de­ter­mined to give tan­gi­ble shape to a theme that had been run­ning in my mind for some time, to write, if pos­si­ble, an an­swer to Brad­bu­ry’s beau­ti­ful piece, “Jesus Paid It All.” I made it a matter of pray­er and stu­dy and gave to the pub­lic the mu­sic now known as “All to Christ I Owe.” It was pro­nounced ve­ry poor by my choir and friends, but my dear wife per­sist­ent­ly de­clared that it was a good piece of mu­sic and would live. Time has proved the cor­rect­ness of her jud­gment. Soon af­ter, the Rev. George W. Schreck called on me to se­lect an­y­thing new that I had to of­fer. On hear­ing this piece he ex­pressed his plea­sure with it and stat­ed that Mrs. El­vi­na M. Hall had writ­ten some words that would just suit the mu­sic. I gave him a co­py of it and it was soon sung in sev­er­al church­es here in Bal­ti­more [Mar­y­land] and well re­ceived. At the sug­gest­ion of friends I sent a co­py to Pro­fess­or The­o­dore Perk­ins and it was pub­lished in Sab­bath Car­ols. Un­der the pro­vi­dence of God it has been go­ing ev­er since. I trust that it has not failed to ac­comp­lish some good to my fel­low-men for the glo­ry of God.

Sankey writes:

On New Year’s night, 1886, some mis­sion­ar­ies were hold­ing open-air serv­ic­es in or­der to att­ract pass­ers­-by to a near-by miss­ion, where meet­ings were to be held later. “All to Christ I owe” was sung, and af­ter a gen­tle­man had giv­en a short ad­dress he hast­ened away to the miss­ion. He soon heard foot­steps close be­hind him and a young wo­man caught up with him and said:

“I heard you ad­dress­ing the open-air meet­ing just now; do you think, sir that Je­sus could save a sin­ner like me?”

The gen­tle­man re­plied that there was no doubt about that, if she was anx­ious to be saved. She told him that she was a serv­ant girl, and had left her place that morn­ing after a dis­a­gree­ment with her mis­tress. As she had been wan­der­ing about the streets in the dark, won­der­ing where she was to spend the night, the sweet mel­o­dies of this hymn had at­tract­ed her, and she drew near and listened at­tent­ive­ly. As the dif­fer­ent vers­es were be­ing sung, she felt that the words sure­ly had some­thing to do with her. Through the whole serv­ice she seemed to hear what met her op­pressed soul’s need at that mo­ment. God’s Spir­it had showed her what a poor, sin­ful and wretch­ed crea­ture she was, and had led her to ask what she must do. On hear­ing her ex­per­i­ence, the gen­tle­man took her back to the mis­sion and left her with the la­dies in charge. The young, way­ward woman was brought to Christ that night. A si­tu­a­tion was se­cured for her in a min­is­ter’s fam­i­ly. There she be­came ill and had to be tak­en to a hos­pi­tal. She ra­pid­ly failed and it became ev­i­dent that she would not be long on earth. One day the gen­tle­man whom she had met on New Year’s night was vis­it­ing her in the ward. Af­ter quot­ing a few suit­a­ble vers­es of Script­ure, he re­peat­ed her fa­vo­rite hymn, “All to Christ I owe”…and she seemed over­whelmed with the thought of com­ing to glo­ry…Two hours af­ter­ward she passed away.

Today's version has been re-written by Kristian Stanfill of Hillsong, giving the old standby hymn a modern feel.

The full text of Mrs. Hall’s words follow.
I hear the Savior say, “Thy strength indeed is small;
Child of weakness, watch and pray, Find in Me thine all in all.”

Refrain:

Jesus paid it all, All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.

For nothing good have I, Whereby Thy grace to claim,
I’ll wash my garments white, In the blood of Calv’ry’s Lamb.

Refrain

And now complete in Him, My robe His righteousness,
Close sheltered ’neath His side, I am divinely blest.

Refrain

Lord, now indeed I find, Thy power and Thine alone,
Can change the leper’s spots, And melt the heart of stone.

Refrain

When from my dying bed, My ransomed soul shall rise,
“Jesus died my soul to save,” Shall rend the vaulted skies.

Refrain

And when before the throne, I stand in Him complete,
I’ll lay my trophies down, All down at Jesus’ feet.

Refrain.

Story of the Song, "Blessed Be Your Name" by Matt Redman

July 17, 2011. Our first worship song this Sunday is “Blessed Be Your Name” by Matt Redman. It comes from the 2002 Album, “Where Angels Fear to Tread.” Matt says of this song, Blessed Be Your Name is a declaration of something which we've both (referring to his wife, Beth) found to be true in the tough seasons of life. To worship God and trust Him no matter what will always be the best path to take.”

Matt’s recording of the song reflects the barrenness of a desert, perhaps in Africa where Matt has ministered and which he might well have experienced firsthand.

Matt Redman and his family are based in Brighton, England where they are part of St Peters, a new church planted out of HTB (Holy Trinity Brompton,) a vibrant Anglican Church in London. They are excited about the challenge of working in a city which is currently one of the most unchurched in the UK. Previously they were part of Passion City Church in Atlanta, USA with pastors Louie and Shelley Giglio, and continue to work alongside the Passion movement.

Matt has been leading worship full-time since the age of 20 and this journey has taken him to countries such as South Africa, Japan, India, Australia, Germany, Uganda, Croatia and the Czech Republic. His early compositions include The Heart of Worship, Better is One Day and Once Again. More recent songs have included Blessed Be Your Name and You Never Let Go, both written with wife Beth and encouraging us to worship God through the storms of life.

Matt doesn’t say upon which scripture he specifically wrote the song, but perhaps he was thinking of Job 1:20-21 which states,

Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshipped, and said, Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.

Job makes this statement at a similar time to one Matt describes, except to a much greater degree as Job, a wealthy and blessed man by all accounts,  has just learned that his sons and daughters have been killed and all his animals either stolen or burned up.

Job is further tested and questions God about the tests but ultimately learns that the important question is not “what” or “why” but “who.” Who is in control of all things? Job, Matt and each of us learn that ultimately, God is in control of all things. That is the most important thing you can know because you can rely on Him implicitly.  If you are able to hold onto that one eternal fact, then no matter what the storms of life may be, you can say with Job, and Matt, “blessed be the name of the Lord.”

The full text of Matt’s lyrics follows:

Blessed Be Your Name

In the land that is plentiful

Where Your streams of abundance flow

Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name

When I'm found in the desert place

Though I walk through the wilderness

Blessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour out

I'll turn back to praise

When the darkness closes in, Lord

Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your name

When the sun's shining down on me

When the world's 'all as it should be'

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name

On the road marked with suffering

Though there's pain in the offering

Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out

I'll turn back to praise

When the darkness closes in, Lord

Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away

You give and take away

My heart will choose to say

Lord, blessed be Your name

The Dad I Never Knew

This is dedicated to the memory of William Wilson Wible, the "Dad I Never Knew." In my childhood, there were certain circumstances that took Dad out of my life. I did not see him again until I was in my 40s. I met him really only a few times, but I got to know his other children and to appreciate especially my brother, David. On the occasion of Dad's funeral, I penned the following poem entitled, "The Dad I Never Knew."

The Dad I never knew, you see,

He must have been a Man.

“To obvious,” you say? Then,

I’ll explain it if I can.

Some shades of men are lily-white,

While others, kudzu-strong.

Nine to five is good enough,

Yet others know that’s wrong.

A Man has mitts with fingernails,

That stain their tea-glass black.

Men put lotion on their hands,

And powder down their back.

The Dad I never you, oh, oh,

Was surely one of These,

Rather never one of those,

Who always tried to please.

No matter what the issue was,

He’d take a stand and stay,

There, on that spot he’d carved,

Until his final Day.

 

“How,” you ask, “how could I know,

The Dad I never knew?”

I’ve seen him in the face of Them,

The ones who loved him true.

Men are Loved, while men are liked,

Tho’ it’s not eas’ly thought;

It does not ‘twine around one’s brain,

It’s more quickly caught –

By seeing what their life has made,

The children they have sired;

And what a legacy is left,

When they are old and tired.

I’ve seen his passed-down progeny,

And watched the jobs they’ve done;

The hours given in bright daylight,

Or past the setting sun.

The Dad I never knew, you see,

I knew him after all.

“He lives this day, yet past his Day,”

You mark it on the wall.

The Dad I never knew, oh, oh,

He surely was a Man;

And I will be a Man some day,

Just like him if I can.