O love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee,
I give Thee back the life I owe,
that in Thine ocean’s depths it’s flow,
may richer fuller be.
This is a verse from an old favourite Hymn of mine; it speaks about submitting our souls to the Creator God who made us, trusting in Him with our eternity and whole being. It has helped many people that I know who’ve been going through a really tough time in life, and sometimes even in the face of death these words speak a deeper truth, that ultimately we’ll all one day come face to face with our maker.
This image could be used as a card to a loved one who’s suffered the loss of someone close to them. It helps people to acknowledge a deep love for them and yet the ability to leave their beloved in the hands of a loving God.
Hymn: O Love that wilt not let me go. by George Matheson.
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
Matheson said about the hymn: My hymn was composed in the manse of Innelan [Argyleshire, Scotland] on the evening of the 6th of June, 1882, when I was 40 years of age. I was alone in the manse at that time. It was the night of my sister’s marriage, and the rest of the family were staying overnight in Glasgow. Something happened to me, which was known only to myself, and which caused me the most severe mental suffering. The hymn was the fruit of that suffering. It was the quickest bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the impression of having it dictated to me by some inward voice rather than of working it out myself. I am quite sure that the whole work was completed in five minutes, and equally sure that it never received at my hands any retouching or correction. I have no natural gift of rhythm. All the other verses I have ever written are manufactured articles; this came like a dayspring from on high.
Hope you’ll find comfort in this image and these lovely words. Don.