As a general rule, I hate hymns that were written in the 1800’s. I am not a musician, but I understand that melodies are more reliable predictors of a song’s popularity than the content of their verses–a reality that is evidenced by my own inability to shake Katy Perry from my mental playlist despite the frequency that she tramples on my moral and poetic sensibilities. Given this, I am amazed by the longevity of some really terrible 19th century hymns. I don’t know what it was in that era that dictated that all church songs had to be sung to the same tunes you find on the merry-go-round, but I find much of it nauseating.
But more than my stylistic disgust with many of these hymns, I have more substantial complaints about their content. I’ll summarize them with these three observations.
- Over reliance upon short and predictable couplets—I think that this is a product of the melody but also contributes to the feeling that I’m on a merry-go-round. “When morning gilds the skies, my heart awaking cries, may Jesus Christ be praised.” The syllable counts are short and the rhymes feel mashed together. This criticism also lands on many modern Christian worship songs; if I hear one more song that rhymes fire with desire, I might have a freak out—or, more likely, I will have a quiet sulk session.
- A focus not on the works of God, but on our subjective response to Him—This is probably my most serious complaint I have against these hymns. For example, “My Jesus I love thee” ends each of it’s verses with the line “if ever I loved thee, my Jesus tis now.” Honestly, there are only a handful of times in the life of any believer that they can speak that sentence without artifice. When we force congregations to sing that song every week or month or year, we make liars of the majority. The only verse I am comfortable with is the final one, “In mansions of glory and endless delight, I’ll ever adore Thee in heaven so bright; I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow, If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.” I can sing this with a clear conscience because I know it will be true; when sin no longer inhibits my ability to enjoy Christ in ever increasing intimacy, this song will be true every hour.
- A kind of spiritual arrogance and insensitivity to periods of desert wandering, thirst, doubt, pain and darkness—Returning to an example from earlier, the following lines seem to be either a boastful self-congratulation, or trite and useless encouragement to the hurting: “Does sadness fill my mind? A solace here I find, may Jesus Christ be praised! Or fades my earthly bliss? My comfort still is this, may Jesus Christ be praised! The night becomes a day, when from the heart we say, may Jesus Christ be praised!” This offers no reasons for praise, it simply recommends its use as a panacea for all spiritual ills. A better prescription I find in Fanny Crosby’s 1875 hymn “To God be the Glory” which only encourages praise at the end of each verse in response to a recounting of the works of God.
After eating processed-packaged-spiritual-platitude hot dogs alongside sentimental-doctrine cotton candy, I find myself wanting to vomit ‘Carnival Salsa’ all over the merry-go-round. (Thanks Mike Berbiglia for that image.)
My musings on the 19th Century Hymnal are based on an extremely quick and incomplete survey of the single hymnal on my bookshelf, and even during that survey I found several beautiful counter examples. I want to close with one I feel puts to rest most of my objections (except perhaps the melody).
Crown him the Lord of life, who triumphed o’er the grave
And rose victorious in the strife for those he came to save;
His glories now we sing who died and rose on high,
Who died eternal life to bring, and lives that death may die.
Crown him the Lord of love; behold his hands and side,
Rich wounds, yet visible above, in beauty glorified;
No angels in the sky can fully bear that sight,
But downward bend their burning eyes at mysteries so bright.