Showing items filed under “The Rev. Canon Dr. Victor Lee Austin”

To Be A Pilgrim

The text is from John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, though it was reworked skillfully by Percy Dearmer, a priest I have mentioned before. Dearmer cared about hymnody and worship in ordinary Anglican parishes. He it was who commissioned Eleanor Farjeon to write words for a hymn on creation; for her text, “Morning has broken,” we thus have Dearmer to thank as being, so to speak, the midwife.

So for “He who would valiant be.” It’s a hymn that my wife made us memorize before a happy family visit to England—about 30 years ago. (Nearly two decades later we sang it at her funeral.) Susan thus framed our England trip as a pilgrimage. The broader truth, of course, is that every human life is a pilgrimage, from God and to God; God has given us life, and the end of our life’s pilgrimage is to be with God.

Two tunes, both in The Hymnal 1982, are associated with the text. The first, #564, is St. Dunstan’s; this is the tune traditionally paired with the text in the U.S. If you are new to the hymn, this may be easier to sing (than Monk’s Gate, #565), since no syllable has to slide over two notes. I also like the dramatic climb in the second half of each stanza that finally achieves that high E before coming down to settle on a very satisfactory G. To find it on YouTube, just enter “He who would valiant be” and “St. Dunstan’s.”

The theme of the hymn is the valiant character of a Christian pilgrim. He stands up against “all disaster” by following Jesus with constancy. If you want to be a pilgrim—which is to say, if you want to follow Jesus in your life—you must not let anything turn you away from that, your “first,” fundamental, primary “avowed intent to be a pilgrim.”

There will be opponents. To follow Jesus is to choose not to follow the false gods that many other people follow. They will “beset him [the pilgrim] round with dismal stories.” But God will protect the pilgrim, and those who try to deflect the pilgrim from his path will confound themselves. Indeed, through trials and temptations, the pilgrim will not be weakened but instead strengthened all the more. The mockers confound only themselves; the pilgrim’s “strength the more is.” There are no foes who can stop a true pilgrim—not even giants: “he will make good his right to be a pilgrim.”

In the third (the final) stanza, the pronoun changes from “he,” the pilgrim, to “us” who are pilgrims today. It begins: “Since, Lord, thou dost defend us with thy Spirit, we know we at the end shall life inherit.” This makes clear that the pilgrim’s strength, although it is his, just as it was his “first avowed intent to be a pilgrim” and just as it was “his strength” and “his might”—although all this is truly “his,” it is the pilgrim’s only by virtue of God’s Spirit. God defends us in our pilgrim lives with his Spirit. Indeed, God’s Spirit is with us every step, and he leads us, with confidence, to our destination. At the end, we shall inherit life: the hymn doesn’t say “eternal life”; it just says “life.” The end of our pilgrimage on this earth is, plain and simple, life. Fancies will flee away! The individual pilgrim, singing this song, now says “I”: “I’ll fear not what men say, I’ll labor night and day to be a pilgrim.”
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Perhaps you will want to memorize this with me also?

He who would valiant be ’gainst all disaster,
let him in constancy follow the Master.
There’s no discouragement 
shall make him once relent
his first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.

Who so beset him round with dismal stories,
do but themselves confound, his strength the more is.
No foes shall stay his might, 
though he with giants fight;
he will make good his right to be a pilgrim.

Since, Lord, thou does defend us with thy Spirit,
we know we at the end shall life inherit.
Then fancies flee away; 
I’ll fear not what men say,
I’ll labor night and day to be a pilgrim.

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Out & About. Palm Sunday, March 29, I will be preaching at St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Dallas at 9 and 11:15am.

Abide with Me

It is said to have been Alfred North Whitehead’s favorite hymn (which, given his heterodox theology, might not be much of a commendation). Whitehead was interested in the old philosophical problem of change and continuity: How can things have identity across time while they are changing? It’s a great question—are you really the same person as the 10-year-old child you used to be? Whitehead’s instinct, perhaps, was that the answer to that old question lay somehow in the hands of God; one could say we have our identity over time only when God abides with us.

We are indeed stuck in fragmented and meaningless lives if God does not abide with us.

“Abide with me” is #662 in The Hymnal 1982. The first line juxtaposes steady abidingness and the reality of change. “Abide with me; fast falls the eventide.” It’s a prayer asking God to stick with us even though (quickly!) the day comes to an end. The image, which is natural to Christian thought, is of a human life as a single day. The poet will shortly spell out that he needs God “every passing hour.” We need God because there are many kinds of change that threaten our life. The darkness deepens. Other helpers fail and comforts flee. We are helpless, but God is precisely the “help of the helpless.”

All that from only the first stanza. The second introduces temptation, indeed, the tempter himself. Only God’s grace “can foil the tempter’s power.” Only God can be our guide through all these changes in life. Only God can be our “stay,” the still point, our secure hold while everything changes. We need God not only in trouble but also when things seem calm. We need God to abide “through” good things and bad: “Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.”

The third stanza expresses the confidence that comes when God is with us. Fear of the foe is gone; our “ills” have no heaviness, our tears no bitterness. Then St. Paul is quoted: “Where is death’s sting? where, grave, thy victory?” This, from 1 Corinthians 15, reveals that our concern from the beginning has been death—and that death is a vanquished enemy. “I triumph still,” the poet says, “if thou abide with me.”    

What is triumph at death? It is the passage from death to life. How does it happen? In the final stanza the poet asks God to keep the cross in front of his eyes as they close, that the last thing he sees in life be the sign of Jesus’ death as his promise of resurrection. After death comes sunshine: “heaven’s morning breaks”! And what, pray tell, is that morning except Easter morning! So the whole prayer can be wrapped up as a request for God to “abide with me” in life, in death, always.

The author was a clergyman who, despite fragile health, was known for cheerfulness. He preached his last sermon against his family’s urging that he stay in bed; he was known to say “better to wear out than to rust out.” Henry Francis Lyte, 1793–1847: he wrote the hymn and it was first sung at his funeral, though not to the perfect tune that we know, “Eventide,” which William Henry Monk wrote 14 years later.

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A few years ago, as part of my campaign for memorizing prayers, I wrote about “Lord Jesus, stay with us, for evening is at hand and the day is past. . . .” That prayer, like “Abide with me,” is based on the story in Luke 24 of the two disciples inviting Jesus to turn in to their home. “Abide with me” is a fitting pair to that collect, and I am going to try to memorize it for the Camino. I invite you to join me in the memorization. (If you don’t know the tune, there are many performances on YouTube; one could do worse than start with the choir of King’s College in Cambridge.)

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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.

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?

Though cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;

ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.

Where is death’s sting? where, grave, thy victory?

I triumph still, if thou 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.

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Out & About. This Sunday, March 22, I will be preaching at the 9:30am Eucharist at St. John’s Church in Corsicana, Texas. Then on Wednesday, March 25, I am to speak at their Lenten program. My talk is titled, “Walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain: A pilgrim's reflections.” The program starts at 6pm with a light supper.

Palm Sunday, March 29, I will be preaching at St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Dallas at 9 and 11:15am.

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The Rev. Canon Victor Lee Austin. Ph.D., is the Theologian-in-Residence for the diocese and is the author of several books including, "Friendship: The Heart of Being Human" and "A Post-Covid Catechesis.: