How does this old hymn impact Contemporary Worship?
As 21st Century Protestants, we tend to think of Church history as beginning with the Early Church, then somehow jumping to 1517 and Martin Luther’s 95 Theses on the Wittenburg door. When we do that, however, we miss out on the opportunity to take note of some influential figures, whose impact we still feel today. One of these is the 11th C. Cistercian monastic, Bernard of Clairvaux, whom we might know as the author of the classic hymn, O Sacred Head Now Wounded.[1]
Bernard was a firebrand of his day, preaching an ascetism that attracted many to his order. In fact, there were 5 Cistercian monasteries when he joined, and at his death some 40 years later, there were 343, 68 of which he planted directly. He wrote and preached holiness and love for God, castigating public leading figures, both secular and religious, for pomposity, debauchery, and a general abandonment of moral behaviour across what was “Christian” Europe. He was also a major critic of a leading thinker of his day, Peter Abelard, for elevating reason over revelation, and for his stance on the Trinity – that the Holy Spirit was not co-equal with the Father and Son.[2]
The Changing Face of Later Mediaeval Worship
Yet, it was also a time of change in how the faithful in Europe were worshipping. The Later Mediaeval period was one of congregational distancing from the Eucharist, which was the central focus of worship. Only the clergy were deemed worthy to participate, so personal piety grew popular as a way of ‘participating in’ the Christian faith. As worship historian James White writes, “Prayer had become a professional responsibility, done for the people by monks and clerics.” [3]
The faithful of the Later Middle Ages weren’t that far from us in their approach to life and faith. They were asking the same questions that humanity has asked for millennia: Who am I? Whose am I? What’s my purpose? It is no wonder that home-based devotional practices became a major influence on Christian piety.
Along with pilgrimages to holy sites (one of the reasons Bernard helped launch the Second Crusade), a massive movement in prayer and devotional literature developed (for those who were fortunate enough to be able to read). Faith had gone from a largely corporate experience to a much more personal state of religious practice. As White adds,
“Thus, in a world where society and church were synonymous, baptism had lost much of its earlier emphasis on joining the community of faith. Much more stress was placed on the individual’s own salvation”.[4]
Bernard’s other famous enduring hymns include “Jesus, The Very Thought of Thee” and “Jesus, Thou Joy of Loving Hearts”. Yet, his most enduring work – O Sacred Head Now Wounded reveals a heart of thanksgiving for the work of Christ.
So, what is it about a hymn from the 11th Century that has such appeal to Protestant Christians a thousand years removed?
Great hymns survive across the ages because they have key aspects that make them great. A memorable, singable melody; poetic language that beckons the listener and singer to express the desire of the heart; and especially the expression of ideas that resonate with its audience. In this way, Bernard was not only a man of HIS time, but a writer for successive generations that have engaged with his songs.
Here are the most famous verses of O Sacred Head Now Wounded:
O sacred Head, now wounded,
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded
With thorns, Thine only crown.
How art Thou pale with anguish
With sore abuse and scorn
How does that visage languish
Which once was bright as morn?
Here is the suffering humanity of the Saviour on display for all to see! Like a spectator on that Friday on Calvary, it evokes the sense of anamnesis (active remembrance) of a more modern hymn like Stuart Townend’s “How Deep The Father’s Love For Us”. It puts us, in our mind’s eye, right into the event itself, evoking in us emotions that can overcome our hearts.
What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered,
Was all for sinners’ gain.
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior!
‘Tis I deserve Thy place.
Look on me with Thy favor,
Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.
As a monastic, one of the few segments of society that was literate, it’s likely that Bernard was familiar with Paul. Here in verse 2, we find language that echoes the likes of Romans in its theology. Personal sin, Christ’s substitutionary atonement, and Luther’s great illumination – grace unto salvation!
What language shall I borrow
To thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this, Thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever!
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
Outlive my love for Thee.
Now, see the personal closeness that Bernard feels to Jesus. He addresses the Son of God as ‘dearest friend’. In light of this, the greatest sacrificial act of all human history, it is Romans 12:1 coming to the fore. His response to the love of Christ is to fully commit himself in heartfelt fashion to his Saviour. Here are precursor echoes of Isaac Watts declaring “Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all!”[5]
Be near me when I am dying,
O show Thy cross to me!
And, for my succor flying,
Come, Lord, to set me free:
These eyes, new faith receiving,
From Thee shall never move,
For he who dies believing
Dies safely in Thy love.
It is a trait of most of our greatest hymns that they point us toward a conclusion of THIS life, to a promised tomorrow found in the hope of Jesus’ Gospel. When I have sat with my guitar at the bedside of those in a hospice awaiting their final breath, Bernard’s final verse illustrates the very rock from which their hope emanates! Whether it is the likes of “and Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight”[6], or “When we’ve been there then thousand years”[7], to know the true freedom of having Christ take us to himself in that moment is the eternal song of every believer.
Even the music of this hymn is a journey of emotion. The song moves from minor key angst in the middle of each verse to a calmness of major key resolution on the root chord, evoking the same sense of “lament moving toward trust” that the Book of Psalms illustrates across its entirety.
We, who love and sing great songs and hymns week in and week out, should find a moment in our hearts to be grateful for the Bernards of this world, and indeed for every devoted writer who pens the words that make up our church’s hymnody. More than some simple exercise in musical commercialism, the most memorable songs come out of lives that have shaped their love and walk with Christ. It is a daunting task, for each writer knows that when they commit to the process of hymn-writing, they have “the awesome responsibility of putting the words of worship on worshipper’s lips.”[8]
Originally posted on TGC Canada.
[1] Author (attributed to): St. Bernard of Clairvaux; Translator: James W. Alexander (1829); Author (German version): Paul Gerhardt. Public Domain.
[2] See Larry W. Usilton, “Saint Bernard of Clairvaux,” in Salem Press Biographical Encyclopedia (Salem Press, 2022), Research Starters, https://twu.idm.oclc.org/login?url=https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ers&AN=92667896&site=eds-live&scope=site.
[3] James F. White, A Brief History of Christian Worship (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1993), 85.
[4] White, 85.
[5] When I Survey The Wondrous Cross, Isaac Watts, 1707. Public Domain.
[6] It Is Well (When Peace Like A River Attendeth My Way), Horatio Gates Spafford, 1873. Public Domain.
[7] Amazing Grace (How Sweet The Sound), John Newton, 1779. Public Domain.
[8] John D Witvliet, Worship Seeking Understanding: Windows into Christian Practice, Kindle (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic, 2003), 210.