Spirit Of God, Descend Upon My Heart

It's a longer one, but I think, obviously, that it's well worth the time. (Besides ... it's likely the last.)

Spirit Of God, Descend Upon My Heart
George Croly

Spirit of God, descend upon my heart;
Wean it from earth; through all its pulses move;
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as thou art,
And make me love thee as I ought to love.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay,
No angel visitant, no opening skies;
But take the dimness of my soul away.

Hast thou not bid me love thee, God and King?
All, all thine own, soul, heart and strength and mind.
I see thy cross; there teach my heart to cling.
O let me seek thee, and O let me find.

Teach me to feel that thou art always nigh;
Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear.
To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh,
Teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.

Teach me to love thee as thine angels love,
One holy passion filling all my frame;
The kindling of the heaven-descended Dove,
My heart an altar, and thy love the flame.

One of the common differences between hymns and contemporary praise songs is the depth of their content. Praise songs tend to be light and “milky”, while hymns generally are weightier and “meaty”. It is difficult to spend much time chewing on a praise song, but one can meditate on a hymn, pulling out more and more good stuff. This particular hymn is a prime example. It was written by George Croly, a pastor in London in the 1800’s. Some of his works included Scenes from Scripture and other Poems (1851) and Psalms and Hymns for Public Worship (London: Kendrick, 1854). It was intended to be his reminder to himself of his goal and focus. If you take a few minutes to examine the hymn, you will find it is rich in good theology.

Croly opens his prayer to the Holy Spirit in a request to have him “descend upon my heart” and “wean it from earth, through all its pulses move.” We all have ties to earth. We all live here. And we all suffer from this strange malady that limits our vision to the world in which we live and leads us to falsely believe that this is all there is. What we need is to be removed from this world. What we need is to be, as the hymn writer put it, weaned from earth. It is high on his list of priorities in the work of the Holy Spirit. “Keep me in this world, but teach me to rely on You, not it, for my sustenance.” That is his initial request.

“Stoop to my weakness, mighty as Thou art, and make me love Thee as I ought to love.” To many today, this would almost be offensive. Sure, we’d appreciate that God is mighty and we are weak, but make me love Thee? What we fail to remember too often is that “it is God who is at work in you both to will and to do His good pleasure” (Phil. 2:13). We need God to make us love Him. And He is willing and able to do so. We need to contrast our weakness with His might. We have this illusion that we aren’t that weak. The simple truth is we are that weak, and we must have God’s strength to make us love Him.

In the second verse, the hymnist seems to ask not for the things we would dearly love. He doesn’t want to have some special event with God. He doesn’t ask, like Moses, “Show me Your glory” (Exo. 33:18). Why would that be? Perhaps he remembered that Scripture says, “The heavens declare the glory of God” (Psa. 19:1). Perhaps he called to mind that creation displays God’s attributes, power, and nature for all to see (Rom. 1:20). Perhaps he recognized the beauty of the Word of God and the boldness with which we can enter the Throne of God. We all know all that, yet we still cry, “Show me Your glory.” What prevents us from reveling in all that we already have? Croly said, “The problem is not You; the problem is the dimness of my soul.” That is his prayer: “Take the dimness of my soul away.”

The third verse starts with the recognition of a command given: “Love the Lord your God” (Deut. 6:5; Matt. 22:37). As King, He has the absolute right to issue the command. As God, He has absolute ownership. “All, all Thine own, soul, heart and strength and mind.” As God and King, His command is not “Give me your soul, heart, strength, and mind.” It is “Give Me what is Mine already.” And we say, “No.” At best we say, “I’ll try.” We actually resist giving Him what is already His.

What is it that prevents us from surrendering to Him what belongs to Him? It is our flesh. So he says, “I see Thy cross – there teach my heart to cling.” There is a sense in some of the Church today that the Cross is the starting place, but that we need to move beyond it. Look at the topical index in a typical book of praise songs, and you will find very little if anything related to the Cross. Many in the church have the same idea. Sure, we’re saved there, but now we move on to the victorious Christian life, and that’s certainly not a cross. But Jesus said, “Take up your cross daily” (Luke 9:23). The significance of the Cross does not end at salvation.

The Cross is, indeed, the starting point of Christianity. It is a starting place that must not be left behind. Jesus instituted the Lord's Supper to remind us of His sacrifice. Paul said, "I determined to know nothing among you except Christ and Him crucified" (1 Cor. 2:2). There we see the substitutionary death that Christ endured on our behalf. We see the cost of sin. We see the distance God would go to save His children. This death, this starting point, is the key message throughout Scripture, starting with "the wages of sin is death" (Rom. 6:23) to "I am crucified with Christ" (Gal. 2:20) all the way to "present your bodies a living sacrifice" (Rom. 12:2). It is the beginning and ending point. It teaches us to repent and to hate sin. It teaches us to die to self. The mortification of the flesh, killing the old man, is the life long process of every Christian.

The Cross produces love in us as we respond to the display of love from God that it represents. It produces joy in us as we realize the salvation it represents. It produces peace in us as we see that we are no longer at war with God, but instead united to Him. As we see what Christ did for us on that cross, we develop patience with other fellow sinners, being forgiven as much as we have been forgiven. It teaches us kindness in response to the love, joy, and peace we have. It provides deterrence to sin and teaches us, instead, to be good. When we recognize what He did on the cross, it calls us to be faithful as a natural response to His care for us. The Cross leaves no room for harshness, but encourages, instead, gentleness. And as we put to death the old man and put on the new at the Cross, we learn self-control. (See Gal. 5:22-23.) The Cross, indeed, drives us toward everything that we need to be. It gives remembrance and gratitude and humility and the fruit of the Spirit. It is indeed our starting place, but it is necessarily our abiding place as well. Instead of moving on, we need to pray, "I see Thy cross -- there teach my heart to cling."

"O, let me seek Thee and, O, let me find" is the last line of the verse. Somehow that doesn't seem right to many Christians today. After all, doesn't Jesus say, "Seek and you shall find"? We have forgotten that Man's original condition is that of hostility to God (Rom. 8:6-8). We have forgotten that "there is none who seeks for God" (Rom. 3:11). We have forgotten that, unless God grants and unless God draws, we have no power to come to Christ (John 6:44, 65). So we pray, "O, let me seek Thee and, O, let me find", and we learn a new appreciation for our relationship with the Most High. We need to remember that it is purely by the grace of God that we even approach Him.

The first line of the fourth verse seems odd to us. "Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh." We might ask, "Hey, what do you mean? God is always near." Croly isn't questioning God's omnipresence. He is recognizing his own limitations. Of course God is always near, but do I realize it? His prayer is that he would be constantly aware of that very dear truth that God is always there. It's called "practicing the Presence", and its impact is large to those who do it.

"Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear." This would be one of the primary impacts of the constant presence of God. Knowing He is always near, I am more capable of handling the most difficult trials I face . . . the internal ones. What kind of internal struggles beset the hymn writer? He lists two: rising doubt and the rebel sigh. Note that he doesn't say, "Teach me not to doubt." There is a perception that Christians should never doubt. This is a misconception. In reality, doubts properly addressed bring about certainty. Doubts fully examined and answered produce conviction of the truth. So he doesn't ask for doubt to be removed. Instead he asks that the Holy Spirit teach him to deal with doubts instead of pushing them aside and letting them fester. Not, "don't let me doubt", but "teach me to deal with my doubts immediately."

The second struggle seems a little odd. "The rebel sigh"? Anyone who has had children has heard "the rebel sigh". You know: "Okay, it's time to turn off the TV and clean your room." "Ah, Mom!" They may obey, but they do it with "the rebel sigh". We do that to God. "Wives, submit to your husbands." "What?! Me submit to him? He doesn't even know enough to come in out of the rain." "Husbands, love your wives." "What?! She's a nag." Instead of cheerful obedience to the God we love, we give Him "the rebel sigh". "Holy Spirit, teach me to check the rebel sigh."

The last request in this verse seems a little odd as well. We all know that there is no such thing as unanswered prayer. God always answers prayer. He might say, "Yes" or "No" or "Wait", but He always answers. Unfortunately, this simple response -- God always answers prayers -- doesn't soothe very well when we get a "no" answer or when we are in that "wait" condition. In fact, too often the "Yes" is in a way we don't expect and can often miss it. So we sit and wonder "Is God going to answer my prayer?" Croly asks "In those times, when I can't see Your answers, teach me patience."

"Teach me to love Thee as Thine angels love, one holy passion filling all my frame." What a marvelous prayer! What a wonderful desire! There are none more devoted to God than His angels. They are consumed with their love for Him. They do His bidding and surround Him with adoration. There is no higher calling than to be consumed with that one, singular passion of love for God. Nor are words sufficient to describe it. George Croly sees that, so his prayer ends with that thought. “Holy Spirit”, he prays, “descend on me and consume me with love for God. Light me aflame with this love for You.”

There is another interesting approach to this hymn, one I believe is worth exploring. It is telling how much one learns of the person who wrote the hymn, a person who could be considered “everyman”.

He recognizes his need. “Spirit of God, descend upon my heart.” It is the biblical need – “Be filled with the Spirit” – but for him it is deeply personal. He sees in himself a dependency on the world from which he needs to be weaned. He sees a weakness that is countered by the strength of the Spirit. He sees in himself a propensity to fail to love God as he should.

In the second verse he recognizes his preference for the spectacular. From ancient times, the call has been “show us a sign.” Instead, he recognizes that the real problem is dimness of soul, not the reality of God.

In the third verse he sees his own primary failure – the failure to obey the Great Commandment. People talk about being good and living perfect lives, but this singular command to love God with all your heart, soul, and mind is much too big to even grasp for most. Our proclivity is to wander rather than cling.

In keeping with his previous shortcomings, we get a real glimpse of the man in the fourth verse. At times he feels that God isn’t near. At times he struggles with himself in ways that seem beyond his endurance. Sometimes he doubts; sometimes it is rebellion. Then there are times that God’s seeming lack of response to his prayers seems like he is being ignored. All of these are common to us. All of them are natural results of our flesh, of our dependency on the world, of our weakness and dimness of soul and failure to love God as we ought.

Then, rejuvenated by his prayer of confession as much as supplication, the hymn writer rises in his plea to love as the angels love, to be filled with that one holy passion. His deep, inner longing is to be the altar, the “living sacrifice”, on which God is glorified by the Spirit in the man.

This approach serves to illustrate that part of knowing God better involves knowing ourselves and our shortcomings. Only by doing so can we truly recognize our need for Him.