Humility is one of the great virtues of a Christian’s heart. As we progress in our sanctification, we not only see more of the greatness of the Lord’s love for us. We also see more of the weakness of our love for Him. We see that reflected in the dynamics of Isaiah 6 (which is a great template for a worship service today!). Isaiah saw the Lord (this was Jesus, according to John 12:41), high and lifted up and seated on a throne, with seraphim crying out, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory!” And then he reflexively saw himself, and he cried out, “Woe is me! For I am lost (literally in Hebrew ‘disintegrating’), for I am a man of unclean lips.” And since he was a prophet whose lips proclaimed the word of the Lord, even this, where he was at his best spiritually, was terribly deficient before the Lord.
Surely that duality will be reflected in the souls of growing believers. Few today would be sold brazen as to claim that they lived at greater spiritual heights than the apostle Paul. But after years of walking closer and closer to the Lord, Paul confessed that he was the chief of sinners (1 Timothy 1:15), not because he was sinning more then, but that his spiritual vision had improved to the point that he was then able to see more clearly into the depths of his own redeemed fallenness. Such genuine, honest humility is perhaps truly one of the greatest marks of spiritual maturity.
The first of Martin Luther’s “Ninety Five Theses” was this: “When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, ‘Repent’ (Matthew 4:17), He willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance.” He was right. “Repentance” is not just one thing to check off the list when we come to saving faith in Jesus. It is something we must do every day, as the Holy Spirit convicts us further of our sin and our need of a Savior. It is what Jesus taught us to pray in the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” Such is a life of humility before the Lord.
That humility, recognizing that we’re not where we want to be in our Christian life, is expressed beautifully in the hymn “We Have Not Known Thee As We Ought,” written in 1889 by Thomas Benson Pollock (1836-1896). He was educated at Trinity College, Ireland, receiving both Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees. While a student there he won the Vice-Chancellor’s Prize for English Verse in 1855. He studied medicine in London, but in 1861 decided to be ordained as a priest in the Anglican Church. He served as curate of St. Luke’s, Leeds; St. Thomas’, Stamford Hill, London; and Holy Trinity, Bordesley, Birmingham, where his brother, James Samuel Pollock, was vicar. Then, for the rest of his life, he ministered to the poor at St. Alban’s Mission in Birmingham. He experienced opposition for his high church leanings. Pollock was a member of the “Hymns Ancient and Modern” committee, and was its chairman from 1895 until his death in 1896. To the 1889 “Supplemental Hymns to Hymns Ancient and Modern,” he contributed two hymns, including this one. In 1870, his “Metrical Litanies for Special Services and General Use” was published by Mowbray, Oxford. He died at the age of 60.
This hymn reflects a spirit of sober self-examination, echoing Revelation 2:4 where Jesus wrote to the church at Ephesus, warning them that they had left their first love. It raises an issue that involves what could seem like a contradiction. The song faithfully describes our feelings of a lack of contentment with our current spiritual condition. And it’s certainly true that we should be honest with ourselves and with the Lord in confessing that we’re not where we wish we were in our spiritual maturity and closeness to Him. And yet Pau wrote to the Philippians that he had learned (and by inference, so should we) to be content in whatever state he was. No, we are not content with our spiritual health, and should not be. What Paul was referring to were his current surroundings under house arrest in Rome as he was writing.
And so we humbly sing in this hymn that we have not reached the point we should have in our Christian growth. But we do so as an expression of our desire that He would enable us to advance, and with the confidence that He will do so as we cry out to Him. Pollock has written very well in the progress from stanza to stanza. Notice the sequence: we have not 1) known Him, 2) feared Him, 3) loved Him, or 4) served Him “as we ought.” But then in stanza 5, we sing with expectancy of the day when we will do so!
Stanza 1 sings of not knowing Him “as we ought.” Our relationship with Christ is based on accurate and ever-increasing knowledge of what the Bible teaches us about His person and work. That includes (in this stanza) His “wisdom, grace, and power.” Instead, we confess that we are too focused on “the things of earth,” such as politics, economics, international affairs, sports, and the stock market. How true that is! These “trifles” will not last, but our relationship with Him will. So we pray for light to make us truly “wise in knowing Thee.” Surely that is the most valuable thing to pursue.
We have not known Thee as we ought,
nor learned Thy wisdom, grace and pow’r;
the things of earth have filled our thought,
and trifles of the passing hour.
Lord, give us light Thy truth to see,
and make us wise in knowing Thee.
Stanza 2 sings of not fearing Him “as we ought.” We all remember the repeated claim in Proverbs that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. Instead of a healthy reverential fear of the Lord to motivate our thoughts and actions, our desires and values, we have instead been too often like unbelievers around us by not bowing “beneath Thine awesome eye,” and instead bowing at the idolatrous altars of worldly pleasures and pursuits. We need to start more carefully guarding “deed and word and thought,” before the all-seeing eye and all-knowing mind of the Lord who is always at hand. “Holy fear” is a wonderful thing to have at the heart of our lives. May this prayer hymn stimulate us to long more for it … and for more of it.
We have not feared Thee as we ought,
nor bowed beneath Thine awesome eye,
nor guarded deed and word and thought,
remembering that God was nigh.
Lord, give us faith to know Thee near,
and grant the grace of holy fear.
Stanza 3 sings of not loving Him “as we ought.” And how wisely did Pollock add the next phrase. It’s not just that we haven’t loved Him as we ought. It’s also sadly true that we haven’t cared that we are loved by Him as we ought! An honest evaluation of our devotional practices, both privately and corporately, might reveal that too often we have settled for seeking His presence in a cold, mechanical way, and that the goal of seeing Him face to face is one for which we have often sought too feebly. What a wonderful prayer to offer to the Lord (and how it must please Him when we ask for this!), “give a pure and loving heart to feel and own the love Thou art.”
We have not loved Thee as we ought,
nor cared that we are loved by Thee;
Thy presence we have coldly sought,
and feebly longed Thy face to see.
Lord, give a pure and loving heart
to feel and own the love Thou art.
Stanza 4 sings of not serving Him “as we ought.” At the core of our purpose for existence is that we should serve the one who is our Lord and Master, our Creator and Redeemer. For those who know they have been purchased and adopted and secured forever by His precious blood, this is much more than a duty; it is our great delight! We serve Him in the little things day by day (including in a worship “service”) as well as in the major spiritual battles we must fight against the world, the flesh, and the devil. Remember that Paul wrote to the Ephesians about the spiritual armor He has already given to each of us to equip us to fight these battles. We ask Him here to give us the zeal and the might to toil for Him constantly.
We have not served Thee as we ought;
alas! the duties left undone,
the work with little fervor wrought,
the battles lost or scarcely won!
Lord, give the zeal and give the might,
for Thee to toil, for Thee to fight.
Stanza 5 changes to a different dynamic. Instead of looking at the past where we have fallen short, now we sing with an eye to the future, wondering how long it will be until we get to the point of having made significant progress in each of those four things: to know, fear, love, and serve “aright.” It will not be fully accomplished until we have been brought out of the trials of life as part of the church militant, not until we have been received into the church triumphant and made “perfect in the land of light.” Until then, we ask that He prepare us “to see Thy face and serve Thee there.”
When shall we know Thee as we ought,
and fear and love and serve aright!
When shall we, out of trial brought,
be perfect in the land of light!
Lord, may we day by day prepare
to see Thy face and serve Thee there.
The tune ST CHRYSOSTOM was composed in 1872 by Sir Joseph Barnby (1838-1896). The name assigned to it is to honor John Chrysostom (347-407), that great saint and preacher from Constantinople, who came to be known as “Golden-Mouthed!” John was born in Antioch and raised in a Christian home. In school, he was trained by a famous orator before becoming a catechumen and being baptized in his early twenties. At that time, the process for adults to join the church took three years. When his three years of catechetical training were complete, he was baptized. His mother, Anthusa, a devout Christian woman, rejoiced. She was less thrilled when he told her his plans to leave home and become a monk. John wanted to lead a life of quiet contemplation, study, and prayer in an isolated place. But his mother made him promise he would not leave her as long as she lived. John honored his mother’s wishes and stayed with her, turning their home into a “mini-monastery,” where he and some of his friends spent their days studying Scripture and praying. When his mother died, John moved out to the monastic communities in the Syrian mountains.
Eventually, however, John returned to Antioch and was ordained into the pastoral ministry. His preaching was excellent, and he became well-known. People from all over the Greek-speaking world would come to hear him preach. When the bishop of Constantinople died, John was taken by force from the smaller town of Antioch to the capital city and made bishop. Fifty-seven years before John came to Constantinople, Emperor Constantine had begun work on his new capitol, meant to inspire the empire with its brilliance and opulence. As one may imagine, this city was full of wealthy merchants, powerful politicians, and extravagant parties, far from the model of Christian behavior. The new bishop was unimpressed, but he simply stepped into his pulpit and began to preach the truth. He called out pastors and politicians alike for their adultery, for living in luxury while the poor starved, and for not offering church services at a time when the working class of the city could attend. As John attempted reform, he made many powerful people angry. When he refused to change the content of his preaching at the request of the emperor’s wives and other powerful individuals, he found himself in exile. There, he died. But about thirty years later, his bones were returned to Constantinople and buried. His legacy was built not on the favor of emperors but on the enduring Word, which he preached with such skill and care.
The composer of the hymn tune, Sir Joseph Barnby, was born in York, the son of Thomas Barnby, an organist, and died in London. He was an accomplished and popular choral director in England. Showing his musical genius early, he was an organist and choirmaster at York Minster fro m the age of seven. His voice broke at the age of fifteen and he studied for two or three years at the Royal Academy of Music. at the age of twelve. He was narrowly defeated by Sir Arthur Sullivan in competition for the Mendelssohn Scholarship. In 1862, he became organist at St. Andrews, Wells Street, London, where he developed an outstanding choral program (at times nicknamed “the Sunday Opera”).
It was at St Andrew’s that in 1864, Barnby and the choir performed two anthems by Alice Mary Smith. It is believed to have been the first time that liturgical music composed by a woman was performed in the Church of England. He was conductor of “Barnby’s Choir” from 1864, at first giving concerts at St James’s Hall and afterwards at Exeter Hall. In 1871 he was appointed, in succession to Charles Gounod, conductor of the Royal Albert Hall Choral Society, a post he held till his death. Meanwhile, he had left St Andrews for a similar position at St Anne’s, Soho. In 1875, he was precentor and director of music at Eton College, and in1892 became principal of the Guildhall School of Music, receiving the honor of knighthood in July of that year. His works include an oratorio “Rebekah, The Lord is King” (Psalm 97), many services and anthems, and 246 hymn tunes, published in 1897 in one volume). In addition, he wrote “Now the Day Is over,” and the popular lullaby using Alfred, Tennyson’s words “Sweet and Low,” and miscellaneous pieces for organ.
Barnby introduced annual performances of Johann Sebastian Bach’s “St. John Passion” in St. Annes, Soho, including an 1879 performance with full orchestra and 500 vices. and directed the first performance in an English church of the “St. Matthew Passion.” He was also active in regional music festivals, conducted the Royal Choral Society, and composed and edited music (mainly for Novello and Company). In 1892 he was knighted by Queen Victoria. His compositions include many anthems and service music for the Anglican liturgy, as well as 246 hymn tunes (published posthumously in 1897). He edited four hymnals, including “The Hymnary” (1872) and “The Congregational Sunday School Hymnal” (1891), and coedited “The Cathedral Psalter” (1873).
He was largely instrumental in stimulating the love for Gounod’s sacred music among the less educated part of the London public, although he displayed little practical sympathy with opera. On the other hand, he organized a remarkable concert performance of “Parsifal” at the Royal Albert Hall in London in 1884. He conducted the Cardiff Festivals of 1892 and 1895. He died in London and, after a special service in St. Paul’s Cathedral was buried in West Norwood Cemetery.
Discussing English composers, Barnby said: “Sullivan, of course, has done his work in a straightforward way, and gained all the success he could have hoped for. With regard, however, to men bitten with a desire to produce advanced music, the result so far has been scarcely so satisfactory.” A possibly apocryphal story about him got as far as New Zealand. A young contralto at the end of a Handel solo put in a high note instead of the less effective note usually sung. The conductor, Barnby, was shocked, and asked whether Miss – thought she was right to improve on Handel. “Well, Sir Joseph, said she, I’ve got an ‘E’ and I don’t see why I shouldn’t show it off.” “Miss –,” rejoined Barnby, “I believe you have two knees, but I hope you won’t show them off here.”
Here is a link to see lyrics and hear the music to be able to sing along.