Gave My Life for Thee
Frances Ridley Havergal, 1836 -78
I gave my life for thee, My precious blood I shed, That thou might ransomed be. . . . What hast thou given for me?
This song has never been among my favorites.
As a kid learning to play the piano, I pounded the life out of the unimaginative tune-—-one of the hymnal's easiest, no sharps, no flats, no tricks.
And the words—written as if by Jesus addressing you or me as a disciple—do not draw me to service motivated by gratitude. Rather, they drag me down with guilt. I hear a stereotypical martyr mother saying, "After all I've done for you ... you should be grateful." Duty-bound debt.
And yet I write of this song, viewing it differently in the context of its origin and the author's life.
As a young woman Frances Havergal traveled from her home in England to advance her education in Dusseldorf, Germany. While on the Continent, in a pastor's study she saw a motto printed beneath a Sternberg painting titled "Ecce Homo." The portrayed scene is Christ at his trial, whipped mercilessly, wearing a crown of thorns and a purple robe meant for mockery. He's standing between a crowd demanding death and Pilate, who says, "Ecce Homo": "Behold the Man."
Sternberg's arresting depiction of Jesus' trial struck Havergal, who paused to contemplate the biblical event. Before leaving the scene, she copied the caption-phrase, translated: I did this for you. What have you done for me?
Later, back home in England, she noticed the line in her notebook, recalled her emotional response to the painting, and quickly embellished the caption. She wrote a poem of five stanzas, each ending with a pointed challenge: "What have you given to ... left for ... borne for ... brought to ... the Christ?
Pausing to read through her completed verse, Havergal thought poorly of her endeavor, and threw the paper into the fireplace. Yes, into the fire.
But it didn't burn.
Retrieving the lines, she eventually showed them to her father, who suggested they be saved. The next year the poem was printed as a pamphlet, then in a magazine, then with its own tune in an American Sunday school songbook.
Years later she wrote what would become one of her most famous hymns, "Take My Life." The first phrase is reminiscent of the earlier "I Gave My Life," but here she claims the "I-my" as her own: "Take my life and let it be / Consecrated Lord to thee...."
A few lines of a Havergal letter further connect her two songs.The "what have I given for Christ?" question is poignantly answered in the context of these later lines: "Take my silver and my gold, / Not a mite would I withhold." Her letter:
"Take my silver and my gold" now means shipping off all my ornaments—-including a jewel cabinet which is really fit for a countess—to the Church Missionary Society where they will be accepted and disposed of for me. I retain only a broach for daily wear ... also a locket ... Nearly fifty articles are being packed off. I don't think I need tell you I never packed a box with such pleasure.
This giving-up is no duty-bound debt. It is no casting away of the unsatisfactory endeavor. It is sacrificial—something precious relinquished as Havergal consecrated her Hfe to the God who asks no more of us than he asked of himself.
In her relatively short life (forty-two years), Havergal wrote what has been called a "huge volume" of hymns. Time has borne away the memory of all but a score, including these two: "Take My Life" and the earlier "I Gave My Life"—the poem thrown into the fire.
Intended for destruction—like Christ led by the crowd to Calvary.
But not destroyed—like Christ whose executioners did not have the final say.
At Jesus' trial Pilate said, "Behold the man" (John 19:5 KJV). With spiritual insight John the Baptist said, "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world" (John 1:29 KJV).
I gave my life for thee . . . That thou might ransomed be, And quickened from the dead.
This death would result in life—-an abundant life that could prompt a young woman to give away what she considered a "jewelers shop"-—with delight.
Two biblical men-—-Pilate and John the Baptist—saw one Son of God from two radically different perspectives.
And Havergal's story allows me to see new meaning in a throwaway line-—Jesus' hypothetical question: "What have you given for me?"
Lord, open my eyes to show me who you are and what you did for me. Allow me to feel such gratitude that I open my hands and my heart. Generously. Because I want to. Not because I have to.
From the book "Spiritual Moments with the Great Hymns" by Evelyn Bence.
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Being saved by grace does not mean we can live any way we desire. Jesus said man was not to live by bread alone, but by EVERY WORD of God (Mat.4;4). We are to be reading and studying from Genesis to Revelation to learn how to live by God's every word. You may be wondering how we can do this. I have on my website a study that will give you the keys, it is called "Living by Every Word of God - How?"
We are to give our life to Jesus as a living sacrifice; to serve, to love, to follow His example that was left for us in the Gospels. Sadly way too many "Christians" today, do not read the four Gospels as much as they should. Do not let this be you.
Keith Hunt
What a Friend We Have in Jesus
Joseph Striven, 1820-86
What a friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear!
This is a song for the lonely—-those who ever have been, are, or will be—written by a man who was familiar with friendship and acquainted with grief. Various threads of his life story-—-the tragedy, the mercy, the mystery-—-bear retelling.
After graduating from Trinity College in Dublin and spending several years in a military college, Joseph Scriven was forced by poor health to switch careers. Taking up theology, he studied for the Anglican ministry though in time he decided not to "go for" ordination.
Then, the night before Scriven was to be married, his bride was thrown from a horse—into the river in which she drowned.
Some say Scriven never quite recovered from this loss. At the age of twenty-five he left Ireland-—-alone—for Canada, where he was a family tutor on Rice Lake in Ontario. There Scriven fell in love again, but alas tragedy struck twice: his fiancee died of pneumonia, shortly after being baptized in the biting cold lake.
It seems that Scriven wrote "What a Friend" at this juncture-—-in 1855, for his mother, possibly sending it to her with the news of his misfortune and grief. (Can a mother bear her son's sorrow?) One copy he mailed to Ireland. Another-—-of draft manuscript quality and titled "Pray without Ceasing"-— went into his own scrapbook. It's not at all clear how the poem-—-with no author attribution at all—found its way into an 1865 book published in Boston: Social Hymns, Original and Selected. Ten years later Ira Sankey made a last minute substitution to include it in a widely distributed gospel-song collection. He later noted that "the last hymn that went into the book became one of the first in favor."
Scriven never did marry. He was increasingly viewed as an eccentric—sometimes tormented by town toughs. But if eccentric, the element was entwined with a faith that worked. He was known for "preaching to everyone about the love of Jesus." There was nothing empty about his words; a friend to the needy, he went about doing good, for example, sawing wood for the sick and the widows too poor to hire help. (It's said he would be "handyman" only for people who couldn't pay for his services.) "When he saw a need, he gave people money (not that he had much), his own winter clothing, his time. After Scriven's death a liquor salesman in town said, "If ever there was a saint on earth, it was Joseph Scriven."
Never robust, Scriven's health failed him before he reached nature's allotted three-score years and ten. Hearing of his predicament, friends took him in. Thumbing through Scriven's scrapbooks, his host-nurse, a Mr. Sackville, found an old handwritten copy of the popular song. The wheels began churning. "Did you write this?" he asked.
For my mother, he explained. I didn't intend anyone else to see it.
When asked again—directly—-if he'd written the poem, Scriven answered, "The Lord and I did it between us."
This one statement makes me think this man knew the friendship of Christ as well as he knew grief.
To Scriven, Christ was a present partner, a burden bearer, helpmate who came alongside to inspire, to encourage, and help carry the load. "Can we find a friend so faithful / Who will all our sorrows share?" This is the type of friend noted in Proverbs 18:24 - "who sticks closer than a brother." This is the Friend who "took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows" (Isaiah 53:4).
And Jesus is the Friend who remains steady, still today. When we're lonely, feeling abandoned, in need of a soul mate. Jesus' word to his disciples might be his word to us: "I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his masters' business. Instead, I have called you friends" (John 15:15).
Lord, allow me to know you as the friend who sticks closer than a brother.
I might end the story there; but Scriven's death is shrouded with such mystery that I cannot cut short the account. October 9—10, 1886: Scriven was sick, feverish, possibly delirious. He was also by some accounts severely depressed over his deteriorating health and his inability to care, for himself, physically and financially. Some postulate that he was still haunted by the loss of his first love, river-swept from his life. With what intent or purpose, no one knows, but sometime in the night he left his bed. In the morning he was found down by the lake, on his knees as if in prayer, his forehead to the ground—drowned in six shallow inches of water.
From the book "Spiritual Moments with the Great Hymns" by Evelyn Bence.
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Oh how tragic to loose two to-be wives like that. Yes through times of sorrow and hardship, some can write the most beautiful spiritual songs. This on "What a Friend we Have in Jesus" has to be now one of the most famous and beloved spiritual hymns of all time.
Keith Hunt
- What a friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer!
Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
Oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer! - Have we trials and temptations?
Is there trouble anywhere?
We should never be discouraged—
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Can we find a friend so faithful,
Who will all our sorrows share?
Jesus knows our every weakness;
Take it to the Lord in prayer. - Are we weak and heavy-laden,
Cumbered with a load of care?
Precious Savior, still our refuge—
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Do thy friends despise, forsake thee?
Take it to the Lord in prayer!
In His arms He’ll take and shield thee,
Thou wilt find a solace there. - Blessed Savior, Thou hast promised
Thou wilt all our burdens bear;
May we ever, Lord, be bringing
All to Thee in earnest prayer.
Soon in glory bright, unclouded,
There will be no need for prayer—
Rapture, praise, and endless worship
Will be our sweet portion there.
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