Abide With Me
Abide with Me
1847
If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, you will ask what you desire, and it shall be done for you. John 15:7
Henry Francis Lyte, vicar in the fishing village of Lower Brixham, Devonshire, England, ministered faithfully for twenty-three years to his seafaring people.
Though a humble couple, he and his wife, Anne, lived in an elegant estate, Berry Head. It had reportedly been provided by King William IV, who had been impressed with Henry’s ministry. At water’s edge, its coastal views were among the most beautiful on the British Isles. Henry laid out walking trails through the estate’s forty-one acres and enjoyed the tranquility of the house and grounds. There he wrote most of his sermons, poems, and hymns.
But Henry’s lung condition hung over the home like a blackening cloud. Lower Brixham suffered damp winters, and while in his early fifties Henry realized his lung disorder had deteriorated into tuberculosis. On September 4, 1847, age 54, he entered his pulpit with difficulty and preached what was to be his last sermon. He had planned a therapeutic holiday in Italy. ‘‘I must put everything in order before I leave,’’ he said, ‘‘because I have no idea how long I will be away.’’
That afternoon he walked along the coast in pensive prayer then retired to his room, emerging an hour later with a written copy of ‘‘Abide With Me.’’ Some accounts indicate he wrote the poem during that hour; others say that he discovered it in the bottom of his desk as he packed for his trip to Italy, and that it had been written a quarter century earlier. Probably both stories are true. It is likely that, finding sketches of a poem he had previously started, he prayerfully revised and completed it that evening.
Shortly afterward, Henry embraced his family a final time and departed for Italy. Stopping in Avignon, France, he again revised ‘‘Abide With Me’’—it was evidently much on his mind—and posted it to his wife. Arriving on the French Riviera, he checked into the Hotel de Angleterre in Nice, and there on November 20, 1847, his phthisic lungs finally gave out. Another English clergyman, a Rev. Manning of Chich-ester, who happened to be staying in the same hotel, attended him during his final hours. Henry’s last words were, ‘‘Peace! Joy!’’
When news of his death reached Brixham, the fishermen of the village asked Henry’s son-in-law, also a minister, to hold a memorial service. It was on this occasion that ‘‘Abide With Me’’ was first sung.
3832 Abide With Me
This beloved hymn of comfort and trust was written by a pastor who was sickly and unwell most of the time. He pastored a seashore church in England among the rough sailors and uncultured villagers. And this made outsiders often wonder. But they loved him and he loved the work.
However, health finally left him and the doctor advised him to retreat to sunny southern Europe, and he prepared to sail,
The last Sunday before leaving, although he had no strength to stand up and preach, yet he forced himself and preached among his weeping people. That evening, by the light of the evening sun, he wrote these words:
Abide with me, Fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!
He sailed, but died abroad within that year.
✣DYING MAN’S HYMN
Abide with me was written by Henry Francis Lyte in 1847.
Lyte was inspired to write this hymn as he was dying of tuberculosis; he finished it the Sunday he gave his farewell sermon to his parish. The next day, he left for Italy to try to regain his health, but he died in Nice, France, three weeks after writing these words. In his farewell sermon, he said, ‘O brethren, I stand here among you today, as alive from the dead, if I may hope to impress it upon you, and induce you to prepare for that solemn hour which must come to all, by a timely acquaintance with the death of Christ.’
Every day the bells of his church at All Saints in Lower Brixham, Devonshire, ring out ‘Abide with me.’
‘Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me
abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts
flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.’
Abide with Me
“It’s better to wear out than to rust out,” said Rev. Henry Lyte, a beloved pastor in the fishing village of Lower Brixham, Devonshire, England. He labored there for twenty-three years, preaching, writing, and composing hymns. His lungs began to fail when he was in his early fifties; on September 4, 1847, he entered the pulpit with difficulty and preached his final sermon, planning to leave the next day for a therapeutic trip to warmer coasts. That afternoon as he walked and prayed, this hymn came to him. En route to Italy, he sent a polished copy to his wife, then he checked into a hotel in Nice where he died. His last words were, “Peace! Joy!”
SEPTEMBER 4
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.
I need Thy presence every passing hour.
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, you will ask what you desire, and it shall be done for you.
– John 15:7