|
Tuesday Morning Epistles
Welcome to "Tuesday Morning"—always containing words of
encouragement and inspiration for Christians everywhere.
Let me take you back to the Revolutionary War and to the
Battle for Springfield, New Jersey. The date was June
23, 1780. George Washington had maintained his general
headquarters there. But due to the imminent invasion of
British troops under the command of Hessian general
Baron Wilhelm von Knyphausen, Washington was forced to
vacate his headquarters—leaving the American forces
under the command of General Nathaniel Greene. The area
around the village of Springfield had been prized by the
British, and several major skirmishes had already tapped
the military resources and manpower of Washington's
troops. Towns around Springfield had been the sites of
recent raids and plundering missions by British forces,
resulting in a citizenry that grew increasingly
vigilant. One British raid, on June 7, resulted in the
burning of the community called Connecticut Farms and
the death of Hannah Caldwell, wife of the Reverend
James Caldwell—a Presbyterian pastor and chaplain.
On June 23 the invaders approached the city in two
columns. The British forces, about 5,000 strong with
cavalry and almost 20 canon crews backing up the foot
soldiers, were more than sufficient to handle the
undermanned and poorly-equipped Americans. The British
troops slowly pushed the Americans back toward the
second bridge over Van Winkle's Brook on Morris Avenue.
During the heat of the battle, the Reverend Caldwell
realized the American militia had run short of wadding
for their flint-lock rifles. In desperation, he entered
the Presbyterian Church nearby, removing hymnals and
delivering them to the Americans at the front of the
battle. His battle cry—"Give them Watts, boys"—rallied
the American troops and became a motto of that
conflict.The British goal of reaching Morristown was
thwarted, and the Battle of Springfield marked the last
significant invasion of the British into New Jersey. The
victory also removed the danger of defeat of the
Continental Army.
"Give them Watts, boys" referred to hymns in the
Presbyterian Hymnal that were written by Isaac Watts
(1674-1748), many of which were among the 697 hymns
written by the brilliant British minister of the early
18th Century. One particular hymn by Watts is the
subject for this week's "Tuesday Morning." The epistle
is entitled "Love So Amazing"—part of the final line of
perhaps the greatest Easter hymn ever written. Open the
attachment whenever you are ready, and take time to read
the words of the hymn every day leading up to Easter.
Your Holy Week will be more meaningful if you do.
Tom Barnard
A Patriot at Heart
________________________________________________________________ Love So Amazing! Tom Barnard
hile Isaac Watts was not the prolific hymn writer that Charles Wesley was (his 697 hymns hardly compare in number with the thousands written by Wesley), some of Watts’ hymns are loved as much as Wesley’s. And it is during Holy Week that we celebrate again the words of the Cross from the pen of Isaac Watts—words that continue to bless the Christian world today.
Watts was born in 1674, thirty years before Charles Wesley, and both lived long and musically-productive lives (Watts was 74 when he died, and Wesley was 80 when he passed). Watts was the eldest of eight children, and Wesley was the second surviving son of 19 children born to Susanna Wesley and her husband Samuel. John Wesley was the oldest child of the Wesley clan.
Isaac Watts was a gifted, precocious child. By age four he had learned Latin, and by age nine, Greek. By his thirteenth birthday he had also learned French and Hebrew. But being brilliant did not open doors to the universities at Oxford or Cambridge for him. His father was known as a Dissenter, and children of dissenters were not allowed to study at the British universities. This didn’t seem to affect Watts in any significant way. His academic gifts opened doors for him throughout England, and beyond.
Watts wrote poetry (in Latin) and experimented in hymn writing while still a young man. Although German Lutherans had enjoyed singing hymns for more than a century before Watts was born, the churches of England had no such tradition. Their hymns were ponderous, as was the mood of their public worship. Wesley changed all of that some years later. Like Wesley, Watts preferred hymns that departed from the texts of the psalms, and some of his contemporaries complained that Watts’ hymns were too “worldly” for the church. Wesley’s hymns drew similar complaints, but years later.
When Watts was 27 he was called to pastor a congregation in London. For the next ten years he totally immersed himself in the responsibilities of the pastorate, while at the same time he wrote books, poems, treatises, and hymns. His early success ended, however, when he became seriously ill and was forced to step aside from full-time ministry. He never fully recovered from this illness, which lasted about four years. During the next 38 years he attempted to return to pastoring, but he was not able to handle the rigors of full-time work. In 1739, at age 65, Watts suffered a stroke that left him able to speak but not write. With the assistance of a secretary, he continued to dictate his poems and hymns until he died in 1748. Perhaps his most famous hymn is the one most Christian churches will sing this week, “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.” Join me in reading (or singing) this stately hymn, written in 1707:
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.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ, my God. All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.
See, from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down. Did e’er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small. Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all!
May the echoes of these words—written more than 300 years ago—ring in your heart all week long. |