Categories
Hymns of Inspiration

Hymns of Inspiration 9 – Bramwell

9. O love that wilt not let me go

If you like a sad love story that has a happy ending then this is the hymn for you ! 

George Matheson ( 1842-1906) was born in Glasgow and was the first of eight children born to his parents Jane and George (snr). From an early age George had poor eyesight and he wore very thick glasses and by the time he had finished his Masters in Philosophy in 1862 (aged only 20) he could only see shadows and rough shapes. 
George fell in love with a young woman and they had talked of marriage. As George’s eyesight failed further however the young lady decided that she could not spend her life caring for a blind man and so they parted. This greatly upset George who finished his studies for ministry in 1868 and became a pastor in Innellan on the Argyll coast. 
His eldest sister cared for him and helped him prepare his sermons and studies. George became a fine preacher and was even asked to preach a sermon to Queen Victoria.  One day however, George’s sister told him that she had met a man and was going to get married. It would mean she would have to stop looking after him. 
On the night of his sister’s  marriage George found himself in a state of despair. He records…

My hymn was composed in the manse of Innellan [Argyleshire, Scotland] on the evening of the 6th of June, 1882, when I was 40 years of age. I was alone in the manse at that time. It was the night of my sister’s marriage, and the rest of the family were staying overnight in Glasgow. Something happened to me, which was known only to myself, and which caused me the most severe mental suffering. The hymn was the fruit of that suffering. It was the quickest bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the impression of having it dictated to me by some inward voice rather than of working it out myself. I am quite sure that the whole work was completed in five minutes, and equally sure that it never received at my hands any retouching or correction. I have no natural gift of rhythm. All the other verses I have ever written are manufactured articles; this came like a dayspring from on high.

Whether it was the loss of his sister by his side or the thought of what might have been with the girl he wished to marry we will never know . Perhaps it was a combination of the two…the marriage of his sister and her future happiness compared to his own situation of loneliness and seeming lovelessness. Whatever happened to George that night changed him and his attitude to love. 

I am always moved by the words of the third verse….. 

O Joy that seekest me through pain
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

For a blind man to talk about tracing the rainbow through the rain exposes an insight into the love of God that is somehow Spirit- inspired. To ‘see’ the love of God in the Cross and to know that one day life will blossom red from the dusty ground because of the resurrection of Jesus is to understand the essence of the most purest kind of love. The whole poem is laced with visual images which emphasise the very depth of that understanding.

George was never married. 
He died in 1906 and is buried in Glasgow. 

You could argue that this is not a happy ending at all and maybe from a human perspective it is not but what would we give for an insight like George’s into the very nature of God ?       

                                    O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
 
O Light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
 
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
 
O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.