Singin' about Dyin'
When my dad was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer a few years ago, quite a few changes occurred in my perspective on life and death. The brevity and fragility of life were no longer abstractions. I truly felt them. One result of this new awareness was that I began to notice all the hymns and songs with stanzas about dying.
I recall selecting some songs for Sunday school one day. As I glanced down the list of songs in our database—those we hadn’t sung in a long time, I came to a title I’d passed over many, many times. This time it gripped my attention. A song that had seemed frivolous and silly to me before now moved me deeply as words and music played involuntarily through my mind.
Some glad morning when this life is o’er, I’ll fly away
To a home on God’s celestial shore, I’ll fly away.
The congregation sang it in Sunday school. It’s providential that I was at the piano because I don’t think I could have sung it. Though it had never been more than a light, peppy trifle to me before, it was now too strong to sing.
For a while, quite a few songs were hitting me like that.
On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan’s fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.
Now that I’ve had more time to adjust to my new perspective on death, I have to admit that I’ll Fly Away and On Jordan’s Stormy Banks aren’t especially weighty songs. But at the time it didn’t matter. They were about dying. That made them heavy to me.
The neglected stanzas
It was during that period that I began to realize how many hymns in our hymnal had a verse (often the last) about dying. I’d sung them for years without really noticing them. I realized something else, too: that I had been avoiding leading the congregation in singing those verses. More often than not, we’d been skipping them.
And say when the death dew lies cold on my brow, If ever I loved Thee…
While I draw this fleeting breath, When mine eyes shall close in death…
When I tread the verge of Jordan, Bid my anxious fears subside…
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail, And mortal life shall cease…
When ends life’s transient dream, When death’s cold sullen stream shall o’er me roll…
E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee, Since God through Jordan leadeth me.
Then shall my latest breath whisper Thy praise; This be the parting cry my heart shall raise…
Some of the death-stanzas in our hymn tradition rise far above the rest. Isaac Watts gave us these moving lines in O God Our Help in Ages Past:
Time, like an ever rolling stream, Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream Dies at the opening day.
Sadly, this fine verse from O Sacred Head Now Wounded is usually omitted from hymnals:
Be Thou my consolation, my shield when I must die;
Remind me of Thy passion when my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfolds Thee. Who dieth thus dies well.
It’s here we return to the point. Why were we avoiding the death stanzas in our hymns? I suspect our habit is not all that unusual. Newer hymnals seem to be omitting more of the death stanzas. And few contemporary songs seem to deal with death and dying. Why? Since nearly all of us will die, shouldn’t we give intentional thought to how to die well?
I suspect that part of the answer is that we so often view worship—and the singing part especially—as feel-good time, and thinking about death just doesn’t feel good. It’s not “uplifting.”
Part of the answer may also lie in the fact that in the US at least, we’ve enjoyed many decades of peace and plenty (relative to most of the century or so before). Unlike in times of famine, plague, and war, in our times we only see corpses at funerals—and seldom more than a few times a year. Death doesn’t seem like something we really have to think about much.
In addition, maybe this life is something we just love a little too much. Surely I’m not the only one who has sung the words below and experienced a “What in the world am I singing?!” moment.
Our fathers, chained in prisons dark, Were still in heart and conscience free:
How sweet would be their children’s fate, If they, like them, could die for Thee!
I could gaze toward heaven, keep singing, and pretend otherwise, but the truth is I don’t want to die for the faith. I don’t want to die at all, ever, for anything.
But that’s exactly why we need to be singin’ about dyin’. Though we don’t like to think about it, life—this life—is short and fragile. And it’s a trust—a loan to us. We put it to use for a little while as stewards then return it to Him from Whom all life flows. We should be thankful for it and enjoy it. But we should not let ourselves think it is permanent or truly ours.
“Nor do I count my life…”
I’m reminded of the attitude of the apostle Paul. As he began his journey to Jerusalem, he revealed his heart to the Ephesian elders.
[T]he Holy Spirit testifies in every city, saying that chains and tribulations await me. But none of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God. (Acts 20:23-24)
Somehow, part of the uniquely-Christian joy of life lies in calmly accepting the immanence of death—along with thinking rightly about death in many other ways. But we can’t think rightly or feel rightly about death if we avoid looking at it squarely. It needs our attention even in our worship, even in our songs.
Aaron Blumer Bio
Aaron Blumer, SharperIron’s second publisher, is a Michigan native and graduate of Bob Jones University (Greenville, SC) and Central Baptist Theological Seminary (Plymouth, MN). He and his family live in a small town in western Wisconsin, not far from where he pastored Grace Baptist Church for thirteen years. He is employed in customer service for UnitedHealth Group and teaches high school rhetoric (and sometimes logic and government) at Baldwin Christian School.
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This is probably another part of why have fewer songs about death and a lower comfort level with singing them. We don’t have the infant or child mortality rates that we used to. Back in ‘the day,’ everybody had lots of kids and just about everybody lost one or two. Now we have fewer but are blessed to keep far more of them.
Of course, to those who have lost little ones, the lower rate doesn’t mean a thing. Maybe it’s a good reminder to us all that we have folks in our congregations for whom songs about death and heaven have much, much more personal meaning than they might to the rest of us.
Here’s another death stanza from yesterday’s worship… though it’s far less direct and physical than many songs that talk about death dew on the brow and that sort of thing.
Long as my life shall last, teach me Thy way!
Where’er my lot be cast, teach me Thy way!
Until the race is run, until the journey’s done,
Until the crown is won, teach me Thy way!
Views expressed are always my own and not my employer's, my church's, my family's, my neighbors', or my pets'. The house plants have authorized me to speak for them, however, and they always agree with me.
Amen! to the original post and the concepts behind it.
Allow me to respond as a Minister of Music (Col. 1:28 / Col. 3:16) to the subject of “Canaan being Heaven” …
Is there war in Heaven (apart from Rev 12 of course!)? Is Heaven itself an occasion for idolatry- trusting in “The Temple of the LORD!” rather than The LORD Himself? Is there sin in Heaven? Is Heaven a place of continuing tears? Can Believers who enter “Canaan” ever be exiled from it?
Heb. 3-4 teach that Joshua’s “Canaan” is a picture of a life lived on earth in the rest of faith; therefore it is ‘equal’ to The Abundant Life/Salvation that The Lord Jesus came to give us. Is there warfare in The Christian Life? Subtle Idolatry? Sin? Tears? Periods of “dryness”
Yes, at certain times in the life of The Church certain writers (and even theologians) become confused in their imagery and, if their songs are sung, they need to be sung while exercising a certain amount of mental gymnastics- “Don’t park your brain when you enter the building.” Perhaps if we really practiced what we believe about The Word being our final authority in faith and practice, our songs would be uniformly “true, honest, just, pure, lovely …” (Phil 4;8)
One of my favorite hymns that sings of life in “Canaan” as well as looking forward to Heaven points to The Great Shepherd:
O Thou in whose presence my soul takes delight, On whom in affliction I call,
My comfort by day, and my song in the night, My hope, my salvation, my all.
Where dost Thou at noontide resort with Thy sheep, To feed on the pastures of love?
Say, why in the valley of death should I weep, Or alone in the wilderness rove?
O, why should I wander an alien from Thee, And cry in the desert for bread?
Thy foes will rejoice when my sorrows they see, And smile at the tears I have shed.
His voice, as the sound of the dulcimer sweet, Is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon bow at His feet, The air is perfumed with His breath.
His lips as a fountain of righteousness flow, That waters the garden of grace,
From which their salvation the Gentiles shall know, And bask in the smiles of His face.
Love sits on His eye-lids, and scatters delight Through all the bright mansions on high;
Their faces the cherubim veil in His sight, And tremble with fullness of joy.
He looks, and ten thousands of angels rejoice, And myriads wait for His word;
He speaks, and eternity, filled with His voice, Re-echoes the praise of her Lord.
Dear Shepherd, I hear and will follow Thy call; I know the sweet sound of Thy voice.
Restore and defend me, for Thou art my all, And in Thee I will ever rejoice. [Joseph Swain (1761 — 1796)]
… because The Good Shepherd WILL lead us through The Valley of the Shadow of Death to the place where we will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
May the LORD grant us to keep singing His song- by His grace and for His glory.
Jim Lowery
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