"Oh Love That Will Not Let Me Go!"

It's an old hymn that has an amazing story behind it.

The author of the hymn, George Matheson, had lived in Scotland during the 19th century. He had two passions: preaching God's Word and a young woman to whom he was engaged.

His passion for preaching the Bible required much time in study and preparation - that means lots of reading. He spent so much time reading that his vision was suffering. Doctors told him that the damage was irreversible and that he would soon go blind.

When his second passion learned of the imminent handicap, she broke off the marriage. Matheson was heartbroken.

He continued to follow his passion for teaching God's Word. In spite of his blindness he became a pastor, preacher and scholar. He preached weekly to 1500 people, even though he couldn't see any of them.

For most of his adult life, his unmarried sister Jane cared for him. She prepared his meals and kept his house. She helped him with his studies. They were close companions.

On the eve of Jane's wedding, Matheson wrote the hymn "O Love That Will Not Let Me Go."

His beloved wife-to-be had jilted him. Now his closest companion on earth would be leaving him.

With wounds re-opened he recognized a love that would never disappoint. It was a love that had been there through all the years.

God's love was so overwhelming to him at that time that it only took him five minutes to write the hymn. And he claimed it was the only hymn that he never went back to edit.

In the midst, or the depths, of the greatest pains this life brings to us, the only true love is the love of God.

O Love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light that foll'west all my way,
I yield my flick'ring torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine's blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
I lay in dust life's glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.