Abide With Me

      I sat in a funeral home in Valdosta, a quarter century hence. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

 

     But I’m getting ahead of my story. My grandmother had been progressively ill, and had been admitted to the local hospital for treatment. In spite of her illness, she didn’t want to be there. Why one day, though the doctors figured she couldn’t last much longer, she winked at my mother and remarked… “Erma, nobody’s looking. Get my things, and let’s get out of here!” (It was only just this week that mom told me this).

    

     For whatever reason, my grandmother didn’t receive a church funeral, though she was a faithful member of her local Methodist church. Dozens of relatives and friends listened as the minister eulogized her. And Lilly Ring lay there in all her glory. For I couldn’t remember seeing her looking so well in years… though her spirit was far from this place.

 

     A young man stood up, and walked to the podium. A woman accompanied him on the piano. And then the wonderful strains of “Abide with me.”

 

    Though years have dropped like grains of sand in an hourglass, I cannot but hear that song without weeping.

 

     Henry Lyte served as an Anglican minister in England during the mid-nineteenth century. He had endured tuberculosis throughout his life, though he managed to serve his congregation admirably.

 

    The day came when he was forced to retire from his ministry, and that final Sunday saw him almost crawling to the pulpit, so weak and frail was he.

 

    Due to his progressive tuberculosis symptoms, he had been forced to find a gentler climate in his old age, and so he sought refuse in Italy. Pastor Henry was inspired to write this wonderful hymn shortly before that final journey.

     I have always loved the story in Luke chapter 24. It seems our hymn writer did, as well. For we see Jesus, after his resurrection, walking down a country road with two of His followers, (though they did not recognize him).

 

And as they neared a certain home, he may have indicated He would have continued his journey.

 

     “But they constrained Him, saying, “Abide with us. For it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. And He went in to tarry with them.” (Luke 24:29, KJV)

 

     I have always desired to wax eloquent, and sermonize this area of scripture, though I don’t recall ever doing so. Perhaps another day. But every time I consider the words in this verse, my very heart thrills within me. And it must have been the same with Henry Lyte.

 

    “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.”

 

     This song ushered my grandmother to her final reward, and I am grateful that Pastor Lyte passed his melodic legacy on to her, though half a century would pass before she was born.

 

     I think that all Christians may live their out their mortal lives, and stake their heavenly claim on the words of this beautiful hymn.

 

     “Hold Thou Thy word before my closing eyes. Shine thru the gloom and point me to the skies. Heav’n’s morning breaks and earth’s vain shadows flee. In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.”

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Unconventional Devotions. Copyright 2005

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