Saved by a Hymn by George B. Thompson

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Oct 29, 1914

Saved by a Hymn

By George B. Thompson

THERE is great power in a simple hymn sung from the heart. Many have been converted by the effective power of a song sung in the simplicity of a converted heart. Oratorios and anthems, be they ever so beautifully rendered, do not move the heart to consecration like the simple words of a hymn.

It is related that a party was one night sailing on a steamer down the Potomac River. A gentleman on board had been entertaining and delighting the party by singing many beautiful hymns. Among others was “Jesus, Lover of My Soul,” which he sang with such fervor and power that a deep hush fell upon all present. When the musical notes of the song had died away, a gentleman approached the singer and said:—

“Beg your pardon, stranger, but were you actively engaged in the late war?”

“Yes, sir,” the man of song answered, “I fought under General Grant.”

“Well,” the first speaker continued with something like a sigh, “I did my fighting on the other side, and think, indeed am quite sure, I was near you one bright night eighteen years ago this very month. It was such a night as this. If I am not mistaken, you were on guard duty. We of the South had sharp business on hand, and you were one of the enemy. I crept near your post of duty, my murderous weapon in my hand—the shadows hid me. Your beat led you into the clear light. “As you paced back and forth, you were humming the tune of the hymn you have just sung. I raised my gun and aimed at your heart, and I had been selected by our commander for the work because I was a sure shot. Then out upon the night floated the words,— ‘Cover my defenseless head With the shadow of thy wing.’”

Your prayer was answered. I couldn’t fire after that. And there was no attack made upon your camp that night. I felt sure when I heard you sing this evening that you were the man whose life I was spared from taking.”

The singer grasped the hand of the Southerner and said with much emotion, “I remember the night very well, and distinctly the feeling of depression and loneliness with which I went forth to my duty. I knew my post was one of great danger, and I was more dejected than I remember to have been at any other time during the service. I paced my lonely beat, thinking of home and friends and all that life holds dear. Then the thought of God’s care for all that he has created came to me with peculiar force. If he so cares for the sparrow, how much more for man created in his own image; and I sang the prayer of my heart and ceased to feel alone. “How the prayer was answered I never knew until this evening. My Heavenly Father thought best to keep this knowledge from me for eighteen years. How much of his goodness to us we shall be ignorant of until it is revealed by the light of eternity! ‘Jesus, Lover of My Soul,’ has been a favorite hymn; now it will be inexpressibly dear.”

Those to whom God has given the talent of music, and who can render with a good voice the hymns of Zion, have indeed a great gift. There is no more effective agency by which to move the hearts of men to give themselves to Christ than the words of some simple melody, sung from a heart in which the love of God reigns.

G. B. THOMPSON.