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Confessions of a Hymnwriter

Peter Tylor shares his interest in hymns

My enthusiasm for old hymns dates from only a few years back. It is likely, however, that my upbringing has had something to do with it. My Dad being an Anglican lay reader, I have often been with him to small Cornish churches, where the services were consistently very traditional. My liking for the ‘old services’ of the Book of Common Prayer thus developed early. However, the few memories I have of singing hymns in church at this stage reveal little of whether or not I liked them (with the odd exception: I remember liking the tune of The day Thou gavest).

Since my childhood, however, I have witnessed a distressing decline in the prominence of the traditional hymn. This could be seen at our original home church, where the numbers of ‘worship songs’ used increased (as did the church’s evangelical tendencies — in fact, David White, formerly of St. Mike’s, is now the Vicar). Likewise, many (fairly) modern songs are used at our current home church. The decreasing prominence of the organ in the title sequence of Songs of Praise over the last ten or so years is a reflection of the increased prominence of modern material in that programme. Meanwhile, where traditional hymns are still used, they have sometimes been mutilated in the interests of ‘accessibility’ or, more recently, inclusive language (both, as far as I am concerned, are unnecessary). I am not, however, trying to imply that all is doom and gloom: traditional hymns, in their original (or traditionally accepted) versions, remain popular in many circles — including the church I attend here in York.

Meanwhile, it is my belief that there are many hymns and tunes out there which have been undeservedly neglected. I have tried, in minor ways, to exhibit some of this hymnodic treasure which I have uncovered (my attempts to suggest examples for a couple of student led services last year were unsuccessful, modern songs, which were better known but not so obviously appropriate to the themes of the services, being chosen instead). Of this treasure, one piece stands out in particular: In the night our toil is fruitless, by W. E. Winks (Baptist Church Hymnal, 1900), in dealing with the miraculous draught of fish (John 21, vv.1–7), takes the noteworthy approach of placing us in the position of the fishermen:

Hark! He speaks as to His children;
‘Have ye any meat?’
‘No’, we answer, humbly falling
At His feet. (v.2)

About five years ago, I was writing a number of poems and songs, generally of a ‘moral’ nature. I thought that I should really write hymns, but had no ideas, until inspiration came in early 1997. The result was Jesus Christ, Thy grace today, an evening prayer which I have since altered more than once:

Still, O Lord, to Thee we pray:
Keep us in Thy narrow Way —
That which leads to Heaven above,
And its peace, its joy and love. (1st half of v.3, final version)

Since then, I have written upwards of thirty hymns, together with a quantity of hymn tunes, nearly all in a traditional mould. Many of my hymns have, admittedly, been written primarily to fit particular tunes (generally my own, or neglected Victorian compositions). However, a few have been written from, if you like, ‘higher’ motives, with inspiration coming from various experiences and events, and it is some of these that I am writing about. In a very few cases, writing a hymn has been an act of worship or of prayer: if I should be concerned about a particular issue or problem, I might be inspired to write a hymn about it, and thus to bring my concern to God.

At least two of my hymns have been inspired by personal experience of temptation and sin. The first of these was written a few months after my A- level Geography residential field trip to Cardiff just before Easter 1997 (my first real taste of independence, being away from home and family). The experience of two related incidents (being persuaded to accept the offer of an alcoholic beverage of a type then unfamiliar to me, and the next night consuming the same beverage again of my own free will — under age in a bar, and during Holy Week) inspired the following lines, written to fit a tune mentally composed during that week:

Oh, how our lives with sin so oft are filled!
And how the godliness in us is killed!
How tempted we may be
To do those things that we
May love, but we can see
God hath not willed!

In a comparable set of experiences, I was persuaded, in week 0 of my first term, to join in a campus bar crawl (the less said about this the better). For some strange reason, I thought, at the beginning of my second term, why not make it a ‘tradition’ to drink the same large amount in one evening during Week 0?, and so I did. Upon not having done the same in my third term, I wrote a hymn, of which the following are the first two verses:

Sometimes, when from the righteous pathway
Our feet have strayed, we have not been
Repentant of our wrongful doings,
But proud to know they have been seen;

And we might even build tradition
Upon such things, and do again
Those frightful deeds, without compunction
Where conscience once did give us pain.

Another of my hymns, Praise to our God this day, was written as a result of quite different circumstances. My talent having only recently been revealed to my parents (for I had kept it a secret for several months), my Dad asked me to write a hymn for our current home church’s patronal festival. Verse 5 of the resulting hymn, which refers to the role of the church’s patron as a physician, companion to St. Paul on his travels to preach the good news, and writer of a Gospel, is as follows:

So let us praise Thee, Lord,
For all that Thou hast given,
And for Saint Luke, who, by Thy grace,
Was sent by Thee from Heaven. (v.5)

Another set of verses, about the Fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5, vv. 22–3) was written at the end of the term for which they had been the theme of the Methang Bible Studies:

The Spirit which upon Jerus’lem fell
Is with us too, and leads to what is well:

If we embrace it, for our good it cares,
And unto us a ninefold Fruit it bears.

Inspiration can also come from outside sources. A letter which appeared in the Radio Times in mid-1998, which complained about Christianity, but not other religions, being a legitimate target for ridicule in a politically correct climate, inspired a hymn of conservative Church defence:

Thy Church a vessel is, O Lord,
Which through Time’s sea doth sail,
Whether her voyage calm may be,
Or storms may make her quail.

Now, while this sea is rough, we pray
That Thou Thy Church wilt guard,
For, in these days of woe, O Lord,
She battles long and hard.

My latest offering (my first for many months) is in a similar vein. There is so much about the modern world and modern social attitudes which I am not inclined to approve of; this hymn, Dark though the night of sin and doubt appeareth vaguely expresses these feelings, but also contains an element of hope that God might yet see fit to intervene (and is thus an example of a hymn written as an act of prayer, if any of my hymns count as such):

As to Assyria’s great yet sinful city [Nineveh]
Thou bad’st one [Jonah] go, the people there to warn,
A world persuade — in this way show Thy pity —
To die to sin, in Christ to be reborn:
Lord of all goodness, be with us still;
Free us from all things that go against Thy will. (v.3)

Peter Tylor is a second year History student.

Last modified: 25th November 2005