I attempted to study tonight. Yet, restlessness kept pulling me away. I found myself at the piano more times than once and finally just gave in. I opened up the piano bench to discover an old hymnal. Two hours of playing the ivories and once again I will say that music has a way of invading every room of my heart.
In 1871, fire swept the city of Chicago. 300,000 people were killed and 100,000 were left destitute and without a home. Horatio Spafford was a Chicago lawyer who had invested much of his money into the downtown Chicago real estate. Even though he had lost a great deal to the fire he gave time and money to help those around him recover. His only son died about this time and this tragedy along with the fire drove his family to the conclusion that they needed a vacation. They decided to travel in Europe and Horatio sent his family on ahead since he was finishing up business. His wife and four daughters boarded the Ville de Havre. On November 22, 1873, the ship collided with an English sailing ship and sank within 20 minutes. Spafford received a telegram from his wife saying, “saved alone.” With a broken heart, he boarded the next ship so he could be with his brokenhearted wife. Tradition says that as they passed the waters where his daughters supposedly perished, Spafford began writing the words to the hymn that we know so well.
When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul.
I would love to know the stories behind each of the songs printed in my dusty hymnal. These words were formed not from the breathy voice of a teenager writing her third hit on the CCM charts but from the hearts of those who had seen real pain and often found no other solace but to write.
Annie Johnson wrote His love has no limit; His grace has no measure; His pow’r has no boundary known unto men. For out of His infinite riches in Jesus, He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again!
William Walford wrote Sweet hour of prayer, Sweet hour of prayer, That calls me from a world of care, And bids me at my Father’s throne, Make all my wants and wishes known: In seasons of distress and grief, My soul has often found relief, And oft escaped the tempter’s snare, By thy return, sweet hour of prayer.
How grateful I am for the gift of music. It is healing at times. My heart might ache and feel as though I have no hope and then I will begin to play these old songs and I am reminded again of what blessings I have. These words remind me of His faithfulness, grace, love, holiness and his undeniable love for me.