ORDEALS,
PERSONAL

I was at that time alone. It was the day of my sister’s marriage, and the rest of the family were staying overnight in Glasgow. [It was also just after his own fiancée had called off their engagement, on account of Mattheson’s blindness.] 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 rather of having it dictated to me by some inward voice than of working it out myself. I am quite sure that the whole work was completed in five minutes, and equally sure it never received at my hands any retouching or correction.

George Mattheson’s hymn, “O Love, that wilt not let me go” was written in the manse at Inellan on the evening of June 6th, 1882.

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.

Later on, George Mattheson, sensing the meaning behind his suffering, wrote:

“My God, I have never thanked thee for my thorn. I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensated for my cross – but I have never thought of my cross as itself a present glory. Teach me the glory of my cross. Teach me the value of my thorn. Show me that my tears made my rainbow.”

George Mattheson