He Took My Feet
from the Miry Clay
African-American Spiritual
He took my feet from the miry clay.
Yes, he did. And placed them on the rock to stay.
Yes, he did.
Like a good hymnbook of any era, the Book of Psalms includes songs of praise that seem to be written and sung in a realm above the daily grind. They are about who God is. "Great is the LORD, and most worthy of praise" (48:1); "The LORD reigns, let the nations tremble" (99:1).
But it also contains a good many more subjective songs about "me"-—-what I (the song's writer or reader) need or want or have received from God.
Consider Psalm 40:1—3, attributed to King David. It's a short-short story, with beginning, middle, and end. I paraphrase: I needed to be rescued. I called on God and waited. God delivered me, by pulling me out of "the miry clay" and setting my feet upon a rock. My desperation lifted; I sang a new song—of praise. Many people will see what God has done for me; they will hear my song and trust God.
The story, including the strong image—sinking in quicksand contrasted with standing on a solid slab of marble—has held its ground, having been revisited in the American tradition.
There's the old spiritual version. "What the Negroes sang were the psalm tunes of the whites... What finally emerged as the spiritual was the expression of a people torn violently from one tradition and thrust against their will into another."3 I can imagine this psalm being sung responsively across rows of tobacco.
He took my feet from the miry clay.
Yes, he did. And placed them on the rock to stay.
Yes, he did.
I can tell the world about this: I can tell the nations I'm blessed, Tell them that Jesus made me whole, And he brought joy, joy to my soul.
And there's also the white nineteenth-century camp meeting version, called "He Brought Me Out." Henry L. Gilmour, a dentist who spent his summers directing camp choirs, tacked this psalm-based refrain onto gospel lyrics by H.J. Zelley for which Gilmour was composing a tune:
He brought me out of the miry clay, He set my feet on the Rock to stay; He puts a song in my soul today, A song of praise, hallelujah!
Zelley's four stanzas fill in the Psalm 40 story line, and his last verse hammers out the psalmist's evangelistic challenge:
I'll sing of his wonderful mercy to me,
I'll praise him till all men his goodness shall see;
I'll sing of salvation at home and abroad,
Till many shall hear the truth and trust in God,
Neither of the American songs short-circuits the ancient story; both acknowledge God's grace.
God moved my feet from the quicks and to the rock. Yes, he did.
And then the songs spread the good news. And so can we.
I can tell the world about this. Yes, I will.
Lord, I thank you for your goodness to me-—your having "brought me out." And forgive me for not taking the opportunity to spread the good news of your deliverance with others. Give me an opportunity today.
From the book: "Spiritual Moments with the Great Hymns" by Evelyn Bence.
....................
I can just imagine the blacks in slavery in the cotten fields, making up a rhythm to these words, and singing it out in the hot bazing sun as they worked.
Passover tell's us in no uncertain way, that Jesus indeed took us from the miry clay of sin and brought us to reconciliation with the Father, and His righteousness.
We can tells others by doing what we can as part of the body of Christ, being as Jesus said, as wise as serpents and as harmless as doves. It is not only our words, when someone may ask us about our religious faith, but we are to be lights to the world, a city on a hill that cannot be hid. We speak to others by the way we live.
Keith Hunt
THERE IS A GREEN HILL FAR AWAY
Cecil Frances Alexander, 1818-95
There is a green hill far away, Without a city wall, Where the dear Lord was crucified, Who died to save us all.
We mortals will always be surprised at what remains of our lives or of our centuries. This is evident in the pages of our songbooks. Any number of songs originally written for children have wound their way into hearts now old and hymnals edited for and read by adults. A prime example is Cecil Frances Humphreys Alexander's much-loved "There Is a Green Hill Far Away." Before his death, William Alexander, eminent Anglican archbishop of Ireland, had a wry grip on the realities of the twists and turns of history. He who presided over the church's rules and rites said he would ultimately be remembered only for being the husband of the woman who wrote "There Is a Green Hill Far Away." Right he was.
Author of more than four hundred hymns, Mrs. Alexander, as she was known, generally wrote for young Sunday school children, in an attempt to bring the Christian faith and feasts down to their level.
"There Is a Green Hill" came to her as she sat at the bedside of a critically ill girl, who lived to relate the incident; as a child she was not called to test the gate-locks of heaven.
He died that we might be forgiven, He died to make us good, That we might go at last to heaven, Saved by his precious blood.
There was no other good enough To pay the price of sin; He only could unlock the gate of heaven, and let us in.
When published in a collection of Alexander's Hymns for Little Children, "There Is a Green Hill" stood among several (including her memorable "Once in Royal David's City" and "All Things Bright and Beautiful") that explicated specific lines of the Apostles' Creed.
Alexander lived in Londonderry, a city bound by a stone wall and surrounded by rolling hills. Having never seen Jerusalem, she is said to have fancied a particular nearby knoll to be "like Calvary." In this regard, she may have been inventing her own version of history.
In subsequent verses she clearly lays out the basics of the historically orthodox understanding of the Creed's "I believe": in Jesus Christ who "suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried." For your redemption and mine.
On this count was she writing fact or fiction? She does have her critics. Is there a "price of sin"—or a penalty of sin and price of redemption? Is her whole notion of atonement "outworn"? Do scholars hunting for the historical Jesus prove the Christ of our creed a merely mythical figure? Do they put the poems of Alexander on a shelf, never to be dusted off?
I'm no theologian, but I find insight in the comments of philosopher C. Stephen Evans. After giving an overview of gospel-discrediting Jesus scholarship, he affirms that many scholars conversant with ancient languages and texts see the historical evidence as consistent with historic Christian faith. However, it is equally vital to realize that Christ's church does not stand or fall with the changing fashions of a contemporary academic field. My Christian beliefs are not primarily grounded in historical scholarship but in the testimony of Christ's church and the work of Christ's Spirit, as they witness to the truth of God's revelation.3
In the preface to The Course of Empire, Pulitzer-prizewinner and historian Bernard De Voto noted that although "history abhors determinism," it "cannot tolerate chance."4 And it is by no chance that our faith—in the redemptive death of Christ-—-has survived the millennia since his resurrection.
"I believe," says the church of Christ.
And all the people said, "Amen."
Lord, this song gives me such a simple rendition of the Good News of your redemption. Give me a new understanding of what it means, as I bear witness to the Word and as I live under the grace it offers me. Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.
From the book: "Spiritual Moments with the Great Hymns" by Evelyn Bence.
..........
There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified,
Who died to save us all.
We may not know, we cannot tell,
What pains he had to bear,
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.
There was no other good enough
To pay the price of sin.
He only could unlock the gate
Of heav'n and let us in.
Oh, dearly, dearly has he loved!
And we must love him too,
And trust in his redeeming blood,
And try his works to do.
[Alternate Version:]
There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified,
Who died to save us all.
Oh, dearly, dearly has He loved,
And died our sins to bear;
We trust in His redeeming blood,
And life eternal share.
We may not know, we cannot tell,
What pains He had to bear;
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.
He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might from our sins be freed,
Saved by His precious blood.
There was no other good enough
To pay the price of sin,
He only could divine life give
And dwell Himself within.
Oh yes some of the words of some of these hymns will need to be changed to conform to correct truth of God's word. "Kingdom" can be used instead of "heaven" ..... for the truth is we do not go to heaven at death; actually heaven is coming to us; all expounded on my website in various studies.
But we take the overall of the truth these words in spiritual songs give us.
I grew up singing Once in Royal David's City and All things Bright and Beautiful ...... O my they should be sung today among God's children.
- Refrain:
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all. - Each little flow’r that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings. - The purple-headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning
That brightens up the sky. - The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one. - The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
To gather every day. - He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
............
This was one of my most favorite spiritual songs
I loved to sing in church before Sunday school started.
I was sent to a "church school" [Church of England] at age 7 by my Dad. And I attended a local church for Sunday school.
Not one teacher, or priest..... no person ever told me Sunday was not the 7th day of the week. Calendars were not found on walls, in school or at home. I knew what I was doing each day of the week, so I needed no calendar. I grew up believing "Christianity" was observing the 4th Commandment, observing the 7th day as the weekly Sabbath.
It was my second year in Canada at age 20, when to my utter shock my Baptist landlord told me Sunday was the first day of the week. I just about fainted in shock.
Keith Hunt
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