In the Morning of Joy -- Ruth Adalyn Evilsizer

Could she have known what lay ahead by just a few short years, as she sat with her pen to record a few verses about the afterlife? Did she envision a morning, perhaps like this one in Yosemite? (see picture) Ruth Adalyn (Hearn) Evilsizer was still relatively young as the turn of the century approached, and since she was eventually credited with writing nearly one hundred hymn texts, her demise just a few years after thinking about what she would see “In the Morning of Joy” could naturally be considered premature. Was it unfair, too? That would be an interesting question to ask Ruth, given that she indicated, through the title of her poem, that death’s reality would usher in a transition that would be anything but sad and untimely. Ruth had evidently been unhappy with at least one facet of her life, so could that have influenced her mindset as she sat down to write in 1895? When life’s a struggle, the remedy may be casting one’s vision to another plane. Mind transformation…is that what I need most of all?

Not much is known of Ruth (perhaps more commonly known as Adalyn) Evilsizer, though some of her family history does provide some clues about her. She was in her early 30s when she crafted the words of ‘In the Morning…’, and had been married for just over a decade, perhaps unhappily. She and her husband Louis reportedly divorced just two years after Adalyn’s ode to the afterlife was penned, so we could presume that marital bliss was not necessarily a reality for her. Adalyn died just two years further on, in Georgia, at the age of 36. Had she also been ill, perhaps chronically, precipitating a difficult life and an early departure? Where does ‘In the Morning…’ fit in among the 94 song-poems that are attributed to her – early, middle, or latter? Since she expired in 1899, one might assume that what she crafted four years earlier was among her latter creations. Could some of its words have been a window onto her own family experiences over a brief 36 years? Her own mother had died (in 1863) when Adalyn was less than a year old, and one of Adalyn’s two children had died in infancy some 22 years later. Were these people some of the ones she longed to meet again, and at least part of the reason for her song’s third verse (‘When our loved ones we meet…’). One wonders whether the song took on additional meaning for her in the early months of 1899; Adalyn’s father died just five months before Adalyn in that year. Indeed, the concluding words of verse 3 (…With the past all forgotten with its sorrows and tears.’) suggest she had much from earthly life she wanted to put behind herself.

Are not Adalyn’s sentiments common among all us earth dwellers? Few things gnaw at me more than those issues surrounding people I know, especially family members. Though it’s not always immediately obvious, I have hangups when things aren’t the way I want them to be. I’m at odds with someone. Or, someone is sick, or maybe absent. I feel lonely, disgruntled. Could these have been Adalyn’s circumstances? Nevertheless, she must have had some folks of like faith, who helped shape her emotionally and encouraged her song-writing. No one wants to wallow in depression. Instead, friends, especially those with whom I can imagine the great future ‘gettin-up-mornin’, can help spur that confident hope. These, too, must have been part of Adalyn’s experience. Who do you expect to see in that Morning?

All the verses to the song are here: http://www.hymntime.com/tch/htm/i/m/o/imornjoy.htm

Scant biography of the author is here: https://hymnary.org/person/Evilsizer_Adalyn

Also, see here: http://www.hymntime.com/tch/bio/e/v/i/evilsizer_ra.htm

The author’s ancestral record is here: https://www.ancestry.com/genealogy/records/ruth-adeline-hearn_41012439

On Jordan's Stormy Banks -- Samuel Stennett

This hymnist had plenty of time and people in his bloodline to observe, and to consider his destination. The Englishman Samuel Stennett was from a long line that had undoubtedly spoken of what life’s end would represent for the believer, and so it was something this 18^th Century London minister likewise pondered. Because he was from multiple generations of Stennetts that served in ministry, Samuel’s vision of what it would be like “On Jordan’s Stormy Banks” must have also included a reunion with others of his family. When exactly did he begin to imagine the scene of which he wrote? Did it look at all like the Jordan River here on earth? (See its picture here.)

One can guess that this was a lifelong moving-picture show, which became even more vivid when his own father went to cross the river, leaving Samuel to walk in his and two previous generations’ footsteps. He likely passed on this mental imagery to his own son, making five generations the expectant inheritors of a common promise.  

Samuel Stennett’s earthly life began in 1727, but his was one that really had its origins many decades prior to the century in which he lived, and then contributed well beyond his earthly life’s conclusion in 1795. His great-grandfather Edward, and his grandfather Joseph, had been ministers in England also, so it was no surprise when Samuel’s father, also named Joseph (the II), entered ministry, with Samuel waiting in the wings soon thereafter. Samuel’s own son, likewise named Joseph (the IV), would also be a minister, like the four generations of Stennetts before him. (Samuel also had a brother named Joseph  [Joseph III] – also a minister.) So, with such a rich heritage of faith and ministry in one family, one can imagine that Samuel from an early age heard of what the Stennetts could expect after a life spent in God’s work. We know not the precise context in which Samuel found himself when he crafted seven stanzas, and at least one refrain (a second alternate refrain is commonly used in many hymnals today) to express what he envisioned awaited himself, and indeed all believers. Nevertheless, Samuel had seen or heard from many generations like himself, and as a minister he also likely counseled numerous lay persons regarding the afterlife. The transition from life to afterlife would be – and is still, today – an ever-present topic among the faithful. Samuel’s desire to express himself poetically was also part of the DNA he inherited, as Joseph I (his grandfather) had likewise been a hymnwriter, a bit of family history that we can presume Samuel had learned. Was this a further motivating factor in Samuel’s effort to describe the spiritual Jordan River in poetic form? Three generations of Stennetts played a part in motivating a fourth to craft “On Jordan’s Stormy Banks”, a gift that has endured for many more generations since then.

Did Samuel’s vision become more urgent the older he became? When he took over his father’s ministry in 1758 (at the age of 31) when he died, did that help spawn “On Jordan’s…”? If these mortal episodes impacted Samuel, that would not be unusual; perhaps they helped gestate the poem that would be first published as a hymn some 29 years later, in 1787. Notably, Samuel makes no allusions to his earthly family in his words. The scenery of that place and the presence of God matter most to Samuel. No one will want to miss it, especially if you think you might be getting closer to that water. Enough said?

Information on the song was obtained from the books  Amazing Grace – 366 Inspiring Hymn Stories for Daily Devotions, by Kenneth W. Osbeck, 1990, Kregel Publications; 101 More Hymn Stories, by Kenneth W. Osbeck, 1985, Kregel Publications; and The Complete Book of Hymns – Inspiring Stories About 600 Hymns and Praise Songs, by William J. and Ardythe Petersen, 2006, Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

See biography of author here: http://www.hymntime.com/tch/bio/s/t/e/n/stennett_s.htm

Also see this site for all the song’s verses: http://www.hymntime.com/tch/htm/o/j/o/ojordsbi.htm

How Beautiful Heaven Must Be -- Cordie Bridgewater

What moved this nearly anonymous woman to share her mental imagery of the afterlife, while living in northern Alabama approximately 100 years ago? Was it the bittersweet longing of her heart for a departed child that compelled this poetry, producing this therapeutic remedy for a deep hurt that Cordelia Bridgewater had suffered? If the daughter Cordie lost during the early part of the 20^th century was her only offspring, one can understand especially how she must have needed some method to salve the pain. Could she have known that “How Beautiful Heaven Must Be” (also known as “We Read of a Place That’s Called Heaven”) would also be her progeny, a kind of child attributed to her? We all produce something, a fruit of a life lived that seeks to impact others, something that doesn’t expire, but is instead passed on to one’s descendants. ‘What’s my offspring?’, you might inquire.   

There’s very few details of Cordie Bridgewater, save what could be contained in a couple of sentences and what is put on a gravestone; there’s probably more words in her poem than there are in her own biography. Moreover, the circumstances of how her hymn words came about are unknown, though one evident life-changing event could have been the impetus for her verses. Married to Albert Samuel Bridgewater, Cordie and her husband lived in America’s Deep South on either side of the start of the 20^th century, when and where they had one daughter named Florence. The historical record indicates Florence had died as a child before 1910, and it is likewise believed that Cordie wrote this ‘How Beautiful Heaven…’ ode, perhaps in the aftermath of this tragedy, while the couple lived in the Hanceville, Alabama area.  No other details are known of this family’s heartbreak, but one can assume they had others of like faith nearby to share their sorrow. Did perhaps one or more of them encourage Cordie’s writing of the words we still have a century later? Did Albert and Cordie mourn long? Was the first line of her second verse – including the words ‘drooping or pining’ -- a reference to their own recent or ongoing experience? If so, she must have tired of the misery of loss, for her words speak of the ‘happy and free’ (refrain), and ‘pure waters of life’ (v. 3). One common coping mechanism for the believer is to imagine – indeed, feel confidently – that the departed loved one is in a grand place, awaiting the arrival of others. This is particularly true when the deceased, especially a child, has gone prematurely. ‘Rare jewels’ (v. 3) and ‘angels’…sweetly…singing’ (v.4) are just some of the other trappings of heaven Cordie visualized happily.

Heaven is not only beautiful, according to Cordie. It is one of God’s truths (v.1), is restful (refrain), and is full of light (v. 2). Death, therefore, is not a dreadful transition, but a blessed passage that allows me to find freedom (vv. 1, 3, refrain) in the presence of the One who makes it all possible. Could that be one of the reasons that beings sing there (v.4)? I can think of other reasons, including family reunions that are near the top of my list for going to such a place. Can you imagine Albert and Cordie embracing Florence again? Who else can you see there?

Following site is one source of information on song: https://hymnary.org/text/we_read_of_a_place_thats_called_heaven

See author’s obituary here: https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/51850837/cordelia-j.-bridgewater