The hymn writer, Horatius Bonar (1808-1889), was a minister in the Free Church of Scotland. A prolific writer, he wrote books, tracts, poetry, and over 600 hymns. Over a hundred of his hymns are still in use in English speaking countries, and 41 are used in Roman Catholic churches. He even wrote some hymns for Moody and Sankey when they were holding their revivals in Great Britain. Sankey described Bonar as “my ideal hymn-writer, the prince among hymnists of his day and generation.” Our Hymnal 1982 includes four other Bonar hymns: This is the hour of banquet and of song (H1982 317 and 317); Here, O my Lord, I see thee face to face (H1982 318); O Love of God, how strong and true (H1982 455 and 456); and I heard the voice of Jesus say (H1982 692).
It is ironic that Bonar’s hymns were not sung in the Edinburgh church in which he ministered. Within the Free Church of Scotland, the question whether to permit hymn singing was left to the discretion of individual kirk sessions, and, in his church, only metrical psalms were allowed in worship.
This hymn is based on I John 4:18: There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. I commend to you the entire 4th chapter of I John, which also includes that beautiful verse that begins: Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God.
In difficult times, this hymn is a good one to rely on. Avoiding easy answers, or suggesting that God will fix everything, it reminds us that God is with us in whatever trouble comes. I recently read that there is a divide in the way people know God. The God who fixes things so that everything turns out fine in the end is the God of privilege, the God of those who have not suffered. On the other hand, the God of those who have suffered is the God of mystery, who goes with us — indeed, before us (Holy Week is a wonderful reminder of this) — in our suffering, and who holds us in love.
The idea of love casting out fear is powerful. Of course, some kinds of fear are healthy, such as when fear works to alert us to danger, so that we can move to safety. But there is also paralyzing fear, destructive fear, that causes us to hurt others or hurt ourselves. Right now, many of us are struggling to not let fear of one kind or another rule our lives. People who live in war torn countries live day in and day out with fear of being killed by bombs or famine, or other effects of war. Many people fear for their lives daily from the crime happening all around them. And sometimes, we, or our friends, become victims of violent crime, and the fear remains long after the crime.
Notice the last two lines of the first stanza, asking love to tarry no more without, but come and dwell within. Don’t we all need love to not be just nearby, and sort of available, but dwelling within. Dwell is a really good word; it has a feeling of permanence. We need love to not just come in for a visit, or even several visits, but to dwell within. That means to live there, with us. The thought of love actually living within me is such a lovely idea, and a very comforting one.
Scientists have learned from brain imaging research that love lights up certain areas of our brains, and at the same time, the areas of the brain dealing with fear, grief, and self-protection are less active. There you have it: Love really does cast out fear, even in the little gray cells. So when we read in Scripture that perfect love casts out fear, there is a truth to that statement on a physical level. Love indeed does drive out fear. Thus the very way our brains work helps us continue to risk love in an era of distrust. Love becomes the antidote for distrust.
But how to take it from just words and beautiful thoughts and truly get love to dwell within us? For one thing, we can invite love in, using that first stanza to pray for love to come and dwell within. The closer we get to God, the more we are in the right place for love to dwell within us. As we show our love for one another, we invite love into our hearts and send love to dwell in the hearts of each other. After all, that entire 4th chapter of I John talks about how if God loved us, we ought also to love one another, and if we love one another, God’s love abides (another wonderful word, much like dwell) in us. Another hymn is also instructive. In Dear Lord and Father of Mankind (H1982 Nos 652 and 653), we sing, “Where Jesus knelt to share with thee the silence of eternity, interpreted by love.” Just think of the possibilities if everyone interpreted everything with love!
When we show love to each other, we help God’s love to dwell within each other. There are so many different ways to show love. Of course, we need to say the words, but we also show love by doing. It is so easy to forget that we are the ground crew for showing God’s love.
The second stanza calls on the notion of Christ being sunlight that guides us through the darkness. Perhaps Bonar based that on Habakkuk 3:4 (His radiance is like the sunlight.); or on
1 John 1:5 (God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all.), or John 1:4-5 (In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.) It also reminds me of another hymn: Lead Kindly Light Amid the Encircling Gloom (unfortunately not in our Hymnal 1982, but you could look it up on the internet).
The third stanza talks about God’s love being a wellspring of peace. Wellspring, another great word, is not a word we use much, but it does appear in the Bible. So perhaps Bonar was thinking of those verses, such as Proverbs 16:22 (Understanding is a wellspring of life unto him that hath it: but the instruction of fools is folly); Proverbs 18:4 (The words of a man’s mouth are as deep waters, and the wellspring of wisdom as a flowing brook.) The reference to the living water reminds us of the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4. In verse 14, Jesus makes reference to the notion of a wellspring, saying, “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”
The fourth stanza seems like a Gloria Patri and blessing all at once. In the Offices, the Gloria Patri comes at the end of every psalm. Many hymns essentially follow that tradition with the final stanza. Here, the blessing we are asking for is the love of God, the love of Christ, and the love of the Holy Ghost. And we ask that this love fill each needy one, which would be every one of us, much as we hate to admit it.
The tune, MOSELEY, is named for an English village that is now part of the city of Birmingham. It was written by British organist and composer Henry Smart (1813-1879), who gave up a legal career for one in music. Largely self-taught, he was known for his improvising and accompaniment of congregational singing. He became completely blind at age 52, but he continued to play the organ because of his remarkable memory. In addition to this hymn tune, our Hymnal 1982 includes three others of his, with REGENT SQUARE (to which we sing Angels From the Realms of Glory H1982 No. 93) being the most familiar.
— Carolyn Parmenter, Music Director
