The Verge of Heaven: Hymn of the Month: “What a Friend we have in Jesus”

This hymn appeared in this Newsletter in July, 2005, but we think it deserves a repeat, not the least because it was written here in Canada. There are three monuments to Joseph Scriven, the hymn writer— one in Port Hope, one near the highway into Bewdley, and the major one at his gravesite in a cemetery overlooking Rice Lake.

Scriven was born at Ballymoney Lodge, Banbridge, Ireland, in September, 1819; he heard the gospel in Merrion Hall, Dublin and he associated with the Christians there; his fiancée drowned in the River Bann in 1844, the day before they were to be married; he immigrated to Canada in 1845-47.

It seems Joseph spent several years in western Ontario, in the areas of Clinton, Woodstock, and Brantford, travelled home to Ireland briefly, visited the Middle East as a tutor, then returned to Canada. About 1850 he joined the Pengelley family near Bailieboro and remained for about five years as tutor to their children. Sadly, he lost his second fiancée Eliza Roche, to TB and pneumonia in August, 1860. After Eliza’s death he devoted much of his time to helping the poor and destitute, and to preaching, in Bewdley in the winter and in Port Hope in summer.

Opposition arose. The Port Hope Guide of August 9, 1873, reported: “On Saturday evening August 2, Constable Johnston arrested Joseph Scriven while the latter, as is his wont, was preaching on the street, and conveyed him to the lock-up. Several young men, fearing he would be kept in confinement during Sunday, went to procure his release, but found that C. Brent, J.P. had already set him at liberty.Mr. Scriven, on Monday morning, appeared before the magistrate who told him to cease preaching on the front streets on Saturdays.Johnston is generally condemned for making the arrest, particularly as profanity and obscenity on the streets go unchecked.”

In the Port Hope Times of September 2, 1880, we read: “A man named Scribbins has been, for some time past, in the habit of preaching on Ontario street, near Walton, yelling and shouting like a good fellow occasionally. This man has become a nuisance and we appeal to the authorities to remove him. If he must preach, let him take up a position in the market-square in the afternoon, where he will not be in the way, and where he will not retard anyone from work which requires to be done in a given time. Mr. Scribbins may be doing good, but we fail to see it.”

A Port Hope history website says, “Scriven became a familiar sight around Port Hope, a big man with bushy white hair and full white beard, carrying a buck and a bucksaw, offering to cut wood for anyone who was unable to cut his own or pay someone to do it for him. But he wouldn’t cut wood for hire.”

Joseph wrote this poem as a consolation for his mother when she faced a time of deep distress in the late 1850s, but the true author was never known until Scriven disclosed on his deathbed, to his friend James Sackville, “I wrote it. The Lord and I did it between us.”

What a Friend we have in Jesus,

All our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry

Everything to God in prayer!

O what peace we often forfeit,

O what needless pain we bear!

All because we do not carry

Everything to God in prayer.

Have we trials and temptations?

Is there trouble anywhere?

We should never be discouraged:

Take it to the Lord in prayer!

Can we find a friend so faithful,

Who will all our sorrows share?

Jesus knows our every weakness:

Take it to the Lord in prayer!

Are we weak and heavy-laden,

Cumbered with a load of care?

Precious Saviour, still our refuge:

Take it to the Lord in prayer.

Do thy friends despise, forsake thee?

Take it to the Lord in prayer!

In His arms He’ll take and shield thee;

Thou will find a solace there.

Blessèd Saviour, Thou hast promised

Thou wilt all our burdens bear.

May we ever, Lord, be bringing

All to Thee in earnest prayer.

Soon in glory bright unclouded

There will be no need for prayer.

Rapture, praise and endless worship

Will be our sweet portion there.

On August 10, 1886, Scriven rose from his bed in the night and left the house unseen. The next morning his body was found in the spillway of Sackville’s grist-mill but the coroner ruled for misadventure, and no inquest was called. His legacy was preaching “with simple language and quiet, unassuming delivery,” and charity—tending a cow for a Port Hope widow, selling his watch to replace someone’s lost cow, and giving away his own possessions to the point of poverty for himself.

In 1869, Scriven published in Peterborough, Hymns and other verses. One of these hymns, expressly intended by Scriven “to be sung at the Lord’s Supper” says,

Three precious truths at once we see;