(I’m early today because I have to go to the eye doctor.)
Fanny Crosby wrote this hymn in 1890, He Hideth My Soul. I love this rendition by Nathan and Lyle, family and friends, in Denton County, Texas. I can’t quite make out what the little boy is trying to do, but everybody else is busy making a joyful noise unto the Lord.
Does not this hymn cry out to you to sing it? He Hideth My Soul, by Fanny Crosby, published in 1890–sung by the whole congregation at Temple Baptist Church in Tennessee. Turn up the volume, turn it up!
This is the hymn that was in my head this morning: He Hideth My Soul, by Fanny Crosby. Published in 1890, it still inspires us today–as you can tell by this spirited rendition by the choir and congregation at the Church of God.
Remember this wisdom.
When things look bleak, sing louder.
When things are looking up, sing louder.
This is the hymn, another Fanny Crosby classic, that’s been my companion this morning. One could hardly ask for better company.
I wish I knew who it is, singing this a capella version: they deserve a round of applause.
P.S.–Carol informs me that this is the Antrim Mennonite Choir. Well done!
Pump up the volume for this beautiful 19th century hymn by Fanny Crosby, He Hideth My Soul, here sung by the congregation at Temple Baptist Church in Powell, Tennessee.
Franny Crosby, who wrote some 900 hymns, many of which are still loved and sung today, was born blind. But oh! what wonderful things she saw!
Well, this morning it’s off to the kidney doctor to find out what is meant by the euphemism “some impairment of the kidney.” I still haven’t got the stronger blood pressure medicine I need and my pressure is still exceedingly high.
I suppose it’s easy to say “sing louder” when things are going well and you don’t really need to sing. Ten weeks ago, I was as healthy as a horse. At least I thought I was. Now this blood pressure business is like a leak in the bottom of the boat, and nobody’s found a way to stop it yet.
So I present this classic hymn by Fanny Crosby, who wrote over 8,000 hymns before she died, in her nineties. Fanny was blind. As a six-week-old baby, a doctor put mustard poultices on her eyes to treat a cold. It’s possible–I’d say likely!–that this treatment caused her blindness.
But blind she was, and who wouldn’t consider that a serious affliction? Notwithstanding, it didn’t stop her from writing thousands of hymns that are loved and sung to this day.
I once heard a man say, on a Christian radio show, “You don’t understand because you ain’t been tribulatin’ yet.” That was years ago; today it sounds like wisdom.
My friends, I thank the Lord for the prayers you make on my behalf.
P.S.–The hymn shop is open day and night. If there’s a hymn you’d like to have posted on this blog, all you gotta do is ask!
I love this hymn, and I think it would be good to start the day with it. Actually I started my day with vacuuming, but this is a better start.
I have just about learned how to play this on the harmonica. My favorite hymn to play is Hyfrydol–my uncle’s little Marine Band harmonica might have been specifically made to play that hymn.
Keep those hymn requests coming, folks–I’m all caught up. And if you haven’t yet requested a hymn, well, come on in!
I love this 1890 hymn by Fanny Crosby. This version is performed by Nathan Sarvis, autoharp, Lyle Howard, guitar, and some of their family and friends.
I’ve just finished taking down my Christmas tree. *sigh* I pray next Christmas will find us all still here, all healthy and of sound mind, all grown nearer to Our Lord Jesus Christ–and our country on its way back to its right mind.
This beautiful, hundred-year-old hymn is one I never heard before. My friend, Susan, who is also my editor, suggested it to me.
I must thank her–this is just lovely.
Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands…