Before We Sing
with Brett Taylor, Worship Director
Before we sing “O The Deep, Deep Love Of Jesus” together this Sunday, take a few minutes to listen and reflect on the story, truth, beauty, and goodness of what we are about to sing.
The Story
In 1898, English hymnwriter and preacher Samuel Trevor Francis published “O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus,” originally a poem of eight stanzas. Francis knew something of life's darkness and wrote of finding light, hope, and joy amid sorrow. The hymn eventually found its familiar three-stanza form, sung to the sweeping Welsh melody “Ebenezer.”
And what a picture Francis gives us: not a man standing safely on shore admiring the ocean, but a soul completely surrounded by the immeasurable love of Christ.
The Truth
Paul prays in Ephesians 3:18–19 that we might comprehend the breadth, length, height, and depth of Christ's love, a love that surpasses knowledge. But Francis also reminds us that this love is not merely a feeling or a memory of Calvary: “How for them He intercedeth, watcheth o'er them from the throne.” Hebrews 7:25 tells us that Jesus “always lives to make intercession” for his people, while Romans 8:34 declares that the risen Christ is at God's right hand interceding for us. The Savior who gave his life for us now speaks on our behalf. His finished work is our assurance, and his ongoing intercession means we are never left to plead our own case before the Father.
The Beauty
Listen to how the music and poetry move together. The old Welsh melody “Ebenezer” rises and falls like great ocean swells. Its minor-key beauty carries something almost overwhelming. This is not a shallow, sentimental love. It is vast, mysterious, almost frightening in its immensity. And Francis doesn’t leave us standing safely on the shore. He places us in the middle of the sea. Underneath us, all around us, the current is moving.
But then comes the astonishing reversal: the ocean that might have swallowed us becomes the very thing that carries us home. What begins as a mighty, boundless sea becomes “a haven sweet of rest.” We do not have to cross the ocean to reach Jesus. His love is the current carrying us to him.
The Goodness
We spend so much of our lives trying to prove we’re worthy of love. At work, we want to be indispensable. At home, appreciated. Even in our own heads, we’re constantly rehearsing our successes, defending our failures, and wondering if we’re enough.
But Christ’s love is not the reward for a life well lived. What if we stopped trying to earn what has already been given? We could work without needing our jobs to justify us, face our failures without being defined by them, and love others without demanding they complete us. We could stop spending our lives trying to become lovable and start learning how to love.
The Invitation
Where do you feel adrift this morning? Perhaps life has become uncertain, your prayers seem unanswered, or you’ve simply lost the sense that God is near. As we sing, notice Francis’ little words: onward, homeward.
You do not have to manufacture a feeling of being loved. You are being invited to recognize where you already are. Whatever waters you find yourself in, the deep, deep love of Jesus is carrying you toward him.