I love poems, always have. Even before I could walk, I knew “Baa, baa black sheep, have you any wool?” Not a great poem, I’ll concede, but it did bring me joy and taught me to share!
There is a power in poems that exceeds that of prose. Dr. Johnson said, Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth. Poet Laureate and pioneer of the “Romantic movement” William Wordsworth famously defined it as “emotion recollected in tranquility.”
The word itself comes from the ancient Greek word ποιεω (poieo) = I create. It is, of course, writing, but writing intended to do more than convey facts, describe, or record. It has been used in every culture from the earliest times and recognized as different and powerful,
Socrates said;
I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled poets to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.
What then is “Christian poetry?” It is an inspired text about the LORD JESUS CHRIST*, THE SON OF GOD. It is about Him, in praise of Him, and draws us closer to Him. Sometimes it helps us see His face! There are thousands of such poems written by anointed men and women over thousands of years, but for this blog, I have chosen 25 well-known poems that have blessed me and I believe will bless you too.
* following a name means that person has a biography in SPIRITUAL LIVES.
Christian poetry began long before Jesus was born!
I Met the Master, 1913I
The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want.
David* wrote this prophetically of the Lord Jesus Christ,* the Son of David, 1,000 years before He was to come and save the world from sin.
Jesus identified Himself with this psalm in the Gospel of John:
I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. – John 10:11-14
The 23rd Psalm has been a constant presence and blessing in my life. In 1996, a teacher on Christian radio gave a message on slowing down the pace of life, by learning how to rest.
One suggestion was to meditate on this poem for a month, word by word. I did this, taking “the Lord is my Shepherd,” for day 1, “I shall not want,” for day 2. Each day more rest and blessing came, and finally the assurance that, “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.“ Praise God!
700 BC
Isaiah 53
He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. – Isaiah 53:3-5
Written 700 years before He was born this prophecy was universally understood to foretell the coming of the Messiah until Jesus came. It is a part of the 4th “SERVANTS SONG” depicting Him to be a “Man of Sorrows.” John Wesley found it quite evident that Jesus is the subject here, and I think you will too.
As I read it in 1998, the power of His Spirit overwhelmed me, and I sank to my knees in adoration and worship.
60 AD
There is no poetry in the New Testament, but St. Paul* had obviously read some:
For in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets have said, For we are also his offspring. – Acts 17:28
Early Christian Poems
There are early poems in Anglo-Saxon, like Caedmon’s Hymn and the Dream of the Rood, but the language is too difficult for me, and reading them has not been widespread. Their value lies in demonstrating that English literature and history both were born in a Christian culture.
460
St. Patrick’s Breastplate
PATRICK* (373-463)was not born a believer, but after he was converted he heard a voice calling him to be a missionary to Ireland. There he won the people for Jesus and used the shamrock to explain the Trinity. Written originally in the Old Irish language, an English translation appears below:
I bind unto myself the name, the strong name of the Trinity, by invocation of the same, the three in one, and one in three. Of whom all nature has creation, eternal Father, Spirit, Word, Praise to the Lord of my salvation; salvation is of Christ the Lord.
I used to sing this as I cut the lawn and was always strengthened and blessed. Somehow, it seemed to give me extra strength and continuous joy as I bound myself to these holy elements of our faith!
700
Be Thou My Vision, 700
Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart Naught be all else to me, save that thou art Thou my best thought, by day or by night Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.
The TEXT OF THIS ANOINTED PRAYER is attributed to Irish poet Saint Dallán (c. 560 – 640) but comes to us through 2 women, Mary Byrne (1880-1931), who translated the original text into prose couplets in 1905, and Eleanor Hull (1860-1935) who “versified” in 1912. In 1919 it was published in The Irish Church Hymnal joined to the lovely traditional Irish tune we all know now.
I love the words of this prayer alone, and it brings the presence of Jesus along wherever it goes. But those words are now seared into my heart by that beautiful music that instantly calls them up.
1000
O Come O Come Immanuel, 1000
Unlike most poems, it was not written by a single poet, but by a team of worshippers, not at one time, but over centuries. You probably know it already:
O come, O come, Immanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear.
This is the first of 7 verses, each one referring to the Lord Jesus Christ by a title given to Him in Old Testament prophecy. These verses were sung in monasteries during the Middle Ages, and we still sing them today during Advent.
I rejoice when I hear the music and love to sing with all my heart anticipating the joys of Christmas. I especially enjoy the COUPLET ADDED AS REFRAIN to the ancient text:
Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel shall come to you, O Israel
1130
Jesus the Very Thought of Thee, 1130
Bernard of Clairvaux, (1090 – 1153), an abbot and leader prominent in monastic reform is credited with this worshipful poem. He took at different path than the scholasticism of his time and emphasized the importance of a personal relationship with Jesus. We see this here:
Jesus, the very thought of thee with sweetness fills the breast; but sweeter far thy face to see, and in thy presence rest.
O hope of every contrite heart, O joy of all the meek, to those who fall, how kind thou art! How good to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah, this nor tongue nor pen can show; the love of Jesus, what it is, none but his loved ones know.
Jesus, our only joy be thou, as thou our prize wilt be; Jesus, be thou our glory now, and through eternity.
How blessed we are to know His presence and to come unto Him for rest!
A Mighty Fortress is Our God, 1527
Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing, were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing.
You ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is he; Lord Sabaoth his name, from age to age the same; and he must win the battle.
Martin Luther* wrote the music as well as the text for A Mighty Fortress is Our God, which has indeed been “a bulwark never failing.”
The great reformer had many struggles with the devil, one even throwing an ink bottle at him, but knew Jesus would help him win the battle. It springs to mind when I feel attacked/overwhelmed, and I am so thankful the Right Man is on our side!
Batter My Heart, 1617
John Donne* is sometimes ranked as the best Christian poet. He was certainly a very deep and committed Christian. He wrote a series of “Holy Sonnets” that draw us to devotional worship, this one is number xiv.
He is the greatest of what T.S. Eliot* calls the “Metaphysical poets” and is highly regarded even by unbelieving scholars of poetry.
Batter my heart, three-personed God; for You As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me,’and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurped town, to’another due, Labor to’admit You, but O, to no end; Reason, Your viceroy in me, me should defend, But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love You,’ and would be loved fain, But am betrothed unto Your enemy. Divorce me,’untie or break that knot again;
Take me to You, imprison me, for I Except You’enthrall me, never shall be free, Nor ever chaste, except You ravish me.
I first encountered this when I was a student at Rutgers, and it ravished my heart even then. Now, my heart bows to the 3-Personed God and to Donne’s wonderful life of exalting Jesus.
My Soul, There is a Country, 1650
Henry Vaughan (1621 – 1695) was a doctor converted late in life by the testimony of George Herbert, another metaphysical poet. Here is his beautiful testimony about Jesus:
My soul, there is a country Far beyond the stars, Where stands a winged sentry All skilful in the wars:
There, above noise and danger Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles And One, born in a manger Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious friend And, O my soul, awake! Did in pure love descend To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither, There grows the flow’r of Peace, The Rose that cannot wither, Thy fortress and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges, For none can thee secure But One who never changes, Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
I love the way this physician sees and attributes to Jesus' unchanging healing power. He has healed me many times, of asthma and cancer, and countless other physical needs. He is indeed the Great Physician.
When I Survey the Wondrous Cross, 1707.
Isaac Watts published Hymns and Spiritual Songs in 1707. Here is the best of these, perhaps the best hymn ever:
When I survey the wondrous cross On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ my God! All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e’er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
His dying crimson, like a robe, Spreads o’er His body on the tree; Then I am dead to all the globe, And all the globe is dead to me.
Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.
Here is an EXCELLENT ASSESSMENT of the amazing work Watts has done in taking the prose of scripture and turning it into anointed verse:
The text is a meditation on Christ’s atoning death: at the cross God’s love is revealed, to each believer, requiring total commitment to Christ-“my soul, my life, my all!”
Watts’ profound and awe-inspiring words provide an excellent example of how a hymn text by a fine writer can pack a great amount of systematic theology into a few memorable lines.
When I hear this sung today, or when I read it over alone, I bow at Jesus’ feet and pour contempt on all my pride.
And Can It Be? 1738.
Charles Wesley* (1707-1788) is famous for starting the Methodist movement with his older brother John. John was the itinerant teacher, scholar and theologian, but Charles was the poet. He wrote more than 6,000 poems whose lyrics soon became hymns.
They covered many topics. He celebrates Jesus’ birth with Hark, the Herald Angels Sing, and His Resurrection with Christ the Lord is Risen Today. I love them both. But his greatest hymn is about Christ’s greatest work, our salvation:
And can it be that I should gain An int’rest in the Savior’s blood? Died He for me, who caused His pain— For me, who Him to death pursued? Amazing love! How can it be, That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?
Refrain: Amazing love! How can it be, That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?
No condemnation now I dread; Jesus, and all in Him, is mine; Alive in Him, my living Head ,And clothed in righteousness divine, Bold I approach th’ eternal throne, And claim the crown, through Christ my own.
It was through Charles’ hymns that Methodism was established. The Word of God is the basis for every one of his poems, and the singing of these hymns fired revival after revival and keeps the Gospel flame burning in millions of hearts.
12: We thank Thee Lord for this Our Food, 1741
We thank Thee, Lord, for this our food, But more because of Jesus’ blood; Let manna to our souls be giv’n, The Bread of Life sent down from Heav’n.
Another great Christian poem found a home in my heart before I could read:. But the thought that this song had an author never occurred to me. It was just a fact of life!
But it did have an author, Richard Cennick another Methodist preacher. What a wonderful joining of Jesus’ loving care in giving us food with the saving power of His blood. This was a great Christian poem that had worked its way into my everyday life. Hallelujah!
Amazing Grace, 1775
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound That saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found; Was blind, but now I see.
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears relieved; How precious did that grace appear The hour I first believed!
Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; ’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.
We all know this famous hymn written by John Newton (1725-1807). He wrote it after Jesus saved him from a wicked life aslave traderader. The words are a powerful testimony to salvation by Grace alone.
There is a Fountain Filled with Blood, 1777
There is a fountain filled with blood Drawn from Emmanuel’s veins; And sinners plunged beneath that flood Lose all their guilty stains. Lose all their guilty stains, Lose all their guilty stains; And sinners plunged beneath that flood Lose all their guilty stains. The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain in his day; And there have I, though vile as he, Washed all my sins away. Washed all my sins away, Washed all my sins away; And there have I, though vile as he, Washed all my sins away.
William Cowper* was the most popular poet of his day and earned praise from Wordsworth and Coleridge. He loved Jesus with all his heart and called himself “the bard of Christianity.”
Sadly, he suffered from deep depression and periods of insanity, during which he tried to take his own life. John Newton and other Christian friends ministered to him during those times of trial.
How sweet it is for us to see how deeply Cowper appreciated the blood of Jesus and its saving and cleansing power. I identify with him and the thief on the cross when I thank our Savior for washing all my sins away!
Just As I Am, 1835
Just as I am, without one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me, And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot, To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, Thou wilt receive, Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve; Because Thy promise I believe, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Charlotte Elliott (1789 – 1871) was a portrait artist, writer and editor until she became deathly ill. A visiting minister ask her if she was ready to come to Jesus, but she said she wanted to clean up a few things before she came. He replied, “Come just as you are,” and she did, in 1822.
She then wrote this poem which millions know as an invitational hymn. I sang it with the choir in Madison Square Garden during Billy Graham’s* 1957 crusade in New York. Many came forward that night, and millions have given their hearts to Jesus in response to this compelling hymn.
Idylls of the King, 1835
And slowly answer’d Arthur from the barge:
“The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils Himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?
I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within Himself make pure! but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul.
More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.”
Alfred Tennyson*, 1st Baron Tennyson (1809 –1892) was an English poet. He was the Poet Laureate during Queen Victoria’s reign. This citation is from the death of Arthur in Idylls of the King.
This is my favorite quote about prayer and the best Christian poem I know on the subject. It is powerful and important and attests to the eternal value of both prayer and the human soul.
Jesus Loves Me, 1859
Jesus loves me—this I know, For the Bible tells me so: Little ones to him belong,— They are weak, but he is strong.
Jesus loves me—he who died Heaven’s gate to open wide; He will wash away my sin, Let his little child come in.
My Mom taught me this before I could walk, and it has blessed me ever since.
Anna Bartlett Warner (1827 – 1915) wrote 30 novels and included the test of Jesus Loves Me in one written by her sister. There the poem is used as a comfort to a dying child. It is today one of the world’s most popular songs for children.
“Good Friday,” 1866
Am I a stone and not a sheep That I can stand, O Christ, beneath thy cross, To number drop by drop Thy blood’s slow loss, And yet not weep?
Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830 – 1894) was the finest poet of the Victorian era. You may know her words from the Christmas carol “In the Bleak Midwinter” where the question “what shall I give Him?” is answered, “give my heart.”
She had done this as a child herself and lived a devout and holy life. We see her heart here at the other end of Jesus’ life in one of her most moving poems.
The Lowest Place, 1875
Give me the lowest place: not that I dare Ask for that lowest place, but Thou hast died That I might live and share Thy glory by Thy side. Give me the lowest place: or if for me That lowest place too high, make one more low Where I may sit and see My God and love Thee so. by Christina Rossetti
This is my favorite poem and is her response to Jesus in Matthew 5:3:
Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Fanny Crosby* All the Way My Savior Leads Me 1875
All the way my Savior leads me; What have I to ask beside? Can I doubt His tender mercy, Who through life has been my Guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort, Here by faith in Him to dwell! For I know, whate’er befall me, Jesus doeth all things well;
For I know, whate’er befall me, Jesus doeth all things well.
Fanny Crosby*,1861
The Lord gave me this song the night He healed my son Jonathan from asthma as we walked the halls of St. Peter’s Hospital in New Brunswick, NJ in 1992. I am so very grateful that my son has been healed and drawn closer to Jesus in this wonderful experience!
Fanny Crosby* (1820 – 1915) changed the world and the nature of Christian worship with her 8,000 hymns and Gospel songs. Some have called her the “mother of congregational singing. Her blindness motivated her to write to win “1 million souls for Jesus.” Jesus used her to do this. Praise God!
Crossing the Bar, 1889
Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.
Tennyson wrote this 3 years before he died. It was important to me because it was printed on the Funeral Card for my Grandpa Posta in 1954 when I was 8 years old. This was my first personal contact with death, and Tennyson’s poem comforted me affirming my faith that Grandpa was with Jesus.
Ah, holy Jesus, 1897
Ah, holy Jesus, how hast thou offended, that we to judge thee have in hate pretended? By foes derided, by thine own rejected, O most afflicted!
Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon thee? Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone thee! ‘Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee; I crucified thee.
Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered; the slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered. For our atonement, while we nothing heeded, God interceded.
For me, kind Jesus, was thy incarnation, thy mortal sorrow, and thy life’s oblation; thy death of anguish and thy bitter passion, for my salvation.
Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay thee, I do adore thee, and will ever pray thee, think on thy pity and thy love unswerving, not my deserving.
This wonderful hymn, centuries old, came to me during a Good Friday afternoon service. It moves me to tears and helps me appreciate all Jesus has done for me. It is full of reverence, holy sorrow and appreciation for our great salvation, bought with Jesus’ blood.
Robert Bridges (1844 – 1930) was English Poet Laureate from 1913 to 1930. He has done the modern church a great service by translating older hymns for congregational singing. Among them are “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring” and “O Sacred Head, sore wounded.”
I Met the Master, 1913
I had walked life’s way with an easy tread, Followed where comfort and pleasure led. Until one day in a quiet place, I met the Master face-to-face, With station and rank and wealth for my goal, Much thought for my body but none for my soul. I had entered to win in life’s big race, Until I met the Master face-to-face.
I had built my castles and reared them high, With their towers that pierced the blue of the sky, I had sworn to rule with an iron mace Until I met the Master face-to-face. I met Him and knew Him, and blushed to see, That His eyes filled with sorrow were fixed on me. I faltered and fell at His feet that day, While my castles all melted and vanished away.
Melted and vanished and in their place Naught else did I see but the Master’s face. I cried aloud “O make me meet To follow the steps of thy wounded feet.” My thought is now with the souls of men I’ve lost my life to find it again E’er since that day in a quiet place, I met the Master face-to-face.
How the power of the Lord Jesus Christ changes lives. It has happened in my life and in Dad’s too, long ago. This song spoke to my father’s heart when he was called to the ministry in 1925. He quoted it often in his sermons and messages, memorizing it from Cowman,s’ “Streams in the Desert.”
It was copyrighted in 1915 by the composer, but the poet remains unknown.
* * * * *Lorrie was born in 1885, and died in 1962. Lorrie is buried in Edgar Cemetery in Paris, Illinois, USA.
Only Believe! 1921
Fear not, little flock, from the cross to the throne, From death into life He went for His own; All power in earth, all power above, Is given to Him for the flock of His love.
Refrain Only believe, only believe; All things are possible, only believe, Only believe, only believe; All things are possible, only believe.
Fear not, little flock, He goeth ahead, Your Shepherd selecteth the path you must tread; The waters of Marah He’ll sweeten for thee, He drank all the bitter in Gethsemane. – Refrain
Fear not, little flock, whatever your lot, He enters all rooms, “the doors being shut,” He never forsakes; He never is gone, So count on His presence in darkness and dawn. — Refrain
Paul Rader* (My father knew Paul Rader)
Be not afraid, Only believe. — Jesus inMark 5:36
When I was a little boy in the early 1950’s William M. Branham held healing services at Saint Nicholas Arena in New York City. My mother took me to them. As we stood in the healing line, he said to her, “Little mother, your son has asthma; he was born with it. If you will only believe right now, Jesus is going to heal him.” She believed, and so did I. As we did, everyone began singing this song.
Paul Rader* (1879 – 1938) was America’s FIRST NATIONWIDE RADIO PREACHER, pastor of the Moody Church in Chicago and president of the Christian and Missionary Alliance. He also wrote several hymns, “Only Believe” the best known and favorite of William Branham, Smith Wigglesworth and Elvis Presley.
“The Conversion of St. Paul”, 1982
But most of us turn slow to see The figure hanging on a tree And stumble on and blindly grope Upheld by intermittent hope, God grant before we die we all May see the light as did St. Paul.
Sir John Betjeman (August 1906 – 19 May 1984) was an English Poet Laureate from 1982 to 1984). He was a committed Christian and a member of the Anglican Church. His TESTIMONY:
“Also my view of the world is that man is born to fulfil the purposes of his Creator i.e. to Praise his Creator, to stand in awe of Him, and to dread Him. In this way, I differ from most modern poets, who are agnostics and have an idea that Man is the center of the Universe or is a helpless bubble blown about by uncontrolled forces.”
Best Christian Poems: Epilogue
I am very thankful to each one of these poets for advancing the Gospel beautifully. The message of faith, hope, and charity has been abandoned, ignored, and corrupted by those who have rejected Jesus. Here is a beautifully articulated presentation of the struggle we face by a PULITZER PRIZE WINNING POET:
At The Smithville Methodist Church by Stephen Dunn
It was supposed to be Arts & Crafts for a week, but when she came home with the “Jesus Saves” button, we knew what art was up, what ancient craft.
She liked her little friends. She liked the songs they sang when they weren’t twisting and folding paper into dolls. What could be so bad?
Jesus had been a good man, and putting faith in good men was what we had to do to stay this side of cynicism, that other sadness.
OK, we said, One week. But when she came home singing “Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so,” it was time to talk.
Could we say Jesus doesn’t love you? Could I tell her the Bible is a great book certain people use to make you feel bad?
We sent her back without a word. It had been so long since we believed, so long since we needed Jesus as our nemesis and friend, that we thought he was sufficiently dead, that our children would think of him like Lincoln or Thomas Jefferson.
Soon it became clear to us: you can’t teach disbelief to a child, only wonderful stories, and we hadn’t a story nearly as good.
On parents’ night there were the Arts & Crafts all spread out like appetizers.
Then we took our seats in the church and the children sang a song about the Ark, and Hallelujah and one in which they had to jump up and down for Jesus.
I can’t remember ever feeling so uncertain about what’s comic, what’s serious. Evolution is magical but devoid of heroes. You can’t say to your child “Evolution loves you.”
The story stinks of extinction and nothing exciting happens for centuries. I didn’t have a wonderful story for my child and she was beaming.
All the way home in the car she sang the songs, occasionally standing up for Jesus. There was nothing to do but drive, ride it out, sing along in silence.
That silence will not last, it cannot stand against our song. The poet here sees the answer. They have no song to sing, no story to tell so that 1859 child’s song we have looked at here as #17 is the very song that little girl loved to sing.
We are not all poets, but we all can sing, we all can stand up for Jesus, and we all can tell His story:
I LOVE TO TELL THE STORY
I love to tell the story of unseen things above, Of Jesus and His glory, of Jesus and His love. I love to tell the story, because I know ’tis true; It satisfies my longings as nothing else can do.
Refrain I love to tell the story, ’twill be my theme in glory, To tell the old, old story of Jesus and His love.
–Katherine Hankey, 1866