Alas! and did my Saviour bleed

with
MARTYRDOM
HUDSON

I. Text: Origins

It might be hard for modern Christians to conceive how in the first century-and-a-half of English Protestantism, Protestants did not sing hymns about the central act of their faith—the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus—they sang only the Old Testament Psalms and a small handful of New Testament canticles (such as the Song of Simeon), but such was still the case in the early lifetime of Isaac Watts (1674–1748).

In the first edition of his Hymns and Sacred Poems (1707), he wrote about this odd disparity:

I have long been convinc’d that one great occasion of this evil arises from the matter and words to which we have confined all our songs. Some of ’em are almost opposite to the spirit of the gospel, many of them foreign to the state of the New Testament, and widely different from the present circumstances of Christians. Hence it comes to pass that when spiritual affections are excited within us and our souls are raised a little above the earth in the beginning of a Psalm, we are check’d on a sudden in our ascent toward heaven by some expressions that are more suited to the days of carnal ordinances, and fit only to be sung in the worldly sanctuary.

His attempt at supplying Christians with proper New Testament hymns included this text, “Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,” published in six stanzas of four lines, without music, headed “Godly sorrow arising from the sufferings of Christ” (Fig. 1). At its core, it is a hymn of wonder, reverence, and amazement at how the Saviour of humankind would die for him (us). The final two stanzas are especially emotive and show a raw outpouring of grief and gratitude.

Watts’ collection was printed in 16 editions in his lifetime. From an editor’s perspective, the challenge in determining the definitive version of the hymn is in examining his variable use of punctuation, especially shifts between exclamation (!) and question (?). For example, the first line originally ended as a question, but starting in the tenth edition Watts changed it to an exclamation. The same issue applies to stanza 2, line 4, which became an exclamation in the 11th edition, and stanza 3, line 4, which shifted between a question (eds. 7–9) and an exclamation (eds. 1–8, 10–16). The only major textual change happened in the 2nd edition, in which the last two lines of stanza 2 were permanently changed to read, “While all expos’d to wrath divine / The glorious suff’rer stood (?/!).”

For a detailed examination of the textual minutiae, see Selma Bishop, Isaac Watts Hymns and Spiritual Songs 1707–1748 (London: Faith Press, 1962), pp. 163–164.

II. Analysis

Hymnologist Carl Daw offered this fitting assessment in light of another important hymn by Watts:

It is helpful to consider this text in comparison with Watts’s other great hymn on the Crucifixion, “When I survey the wondrous cross.” The two hymns are remarkably different in focus. That one is objective and sweeping; this one is subjective and tightly focused. A telling sense of the difference between them can be detected in noticing where each hymn uses the adjective “amazing.” In the other hymn, it comes in the phrase “love so amazing, so divine.” Here it appears in “Amazing pity! Grace unknown!” Where the other context seems cosmic, this one seems intensely personal, almost as if a special exception is being made for the speaker of this text.[1]

Literary scholar Leland Ryken observed:

Right from the opening exclamation of this poem, we are aware that we are overhearing a speaker’s meditation on the death of Jesus. In the last two lines of the poem he turns to God in prayer, but the rest of the poem takes us inside the speaker’s thought process as he comes to grips with the crucifixion and what it means for him. . . . This speaker, of course, is our representative, and we enact the same thought process that he does in the poem.[2]

In referencing the original title of the hymn, “Godly sorrow arising from the sufferings of Christ,” literary scholar Madeleine Forell Marshall observed:

The poetic rehearsal of the sufferings of Christ provokes our sorrowful response, given voice in the verses. The hymn text weaves together recollection of that suffering and directed reaction. . . .

We’ve come in in the middle of the story, beginning with “and did . . .” The questions indicate that we’re not sure what’s going on here, while the first-person pronouns (me, my, I) suggest our involvement in, our ownership of, the experience, whether we understand it or not. There’s tension here as each singer claims “my Saviour” and “my Sovereign,” while wondering that this—whatever it is—really happened. The heart of the remarkable, even dubious (as indicated by the questioning) idea, which we voice in the next two lines, is the sacrifice of something so terrific—with all the fondness and intimacy of “that sacred Head”—for something worthless, myself, for me as lowly worm. . . .

The last stanza corrects any tendency we might exhibit to settle for purely emotional response, however appropriate. Such blushes and dissolvings and tears are insufficient. . . . This realization of the ultimate insufficiency of even the holiest of human “Godly sorrow” marks the completion of the process of the hymn. We are enabled, through this process, to turn, at last, to address the Lord for the first time in the hymn. This is its achievement. The Saviour’s devotion of his head, his payment for my crimes, all amazing, unknown, beyond degree, lead, in the end, to my own giving of my self (not the reflexive “myself” of the hymnal versions). This is beyond blushing and weeping. It is “all” I can do in two meanings—all as modest (“I’m afraid that’s all I can do”) and all as total (“I give my self, my all, away”).[3]

Even though the hymn is deeply personal, it is also implicitly theological, as outlined by Ryken:

The substitutionary atonement shines through with complete clarity. Human sinfulness is also highlighted. Christ’s divinity is declared and is combined with the paradox that the divine Creator could die. The inability of human works to achieve salvation appears in the concluding stanza, and the final note is one of personal commitment to Jesus as Savior.[4]

Among the various concerns levied by hymnal compilers, the line “When God the mighty Maker died” is sometimes seen as confusing the persons of the Trinity, so the subject is changed to apply to Christ, even though Jesus was both fully divine (God) and was active in Creation. The following line, “For man the creature’s sin,” is frequently changed to omit the masculine language, instead given as “his own creatures’,” or “human creatures’,” or something similar. The final two stanzas contain a connected thought—“melt my eyes to tears” / “But drops of grief can ne’er repay”—and therefore should appear together and be sung together, consecutively, but some hymnals contain the unfortunate practice of supplying the final stanza without its precursor, and leaders should avoid skipping to the end by skipping over the setup.

Many editors have avoided the “worm” language in the first stanza, even though it expresses the writer’s abject humility and is consistent with scriptural language. Watts scholar David W. Music offered this view of why and how it works in this context:

Here, the “worm” language sets up a contrast between the majestic “Sacred Head” of Christ and the hymn writer’s (and singer’s) own status as a creature that falls far short of the glory of God. The writer may have also had in mind Job 25:6 (“How much less man, that is a worm? and the son of man, which is a worm?”) or Psalm 22:6 (“But I am a worm, and no man”).[5]

III. Tunes

1. MARTYRDOM

Watts’ text has been set to many different tunes. In modern hymnals, one of the most common settings is MARTYRDOM by Hugh Wilson (1764–1824). It was first printed on leaflets for music classes, in duple meter, melody and bass, called FENWICK after the village where it had been composed. This form of the melody was reprinted in James Love’s Scottish Church Music (London: William Blackwood & Sons, 1891), pp. 302–305 (Fig. 2), with a detailed account of Wilson’s life and the composition of the tune.

In 1825, the melody was adapted into triple meter and harmonized by Robert A. Smith (1780–1829) for Sacred Music . . . Sung in St. George’s Church, Edinburgh (1825 | Fig. 3), set to the Scottish paraphrase of Psalm 57. This form of the melody has been widely adopted as a hymn tune. Smith’s choice of name, MARTYRDOM, might have been in honor of the Scottish martyr James Fenwick, a nod to the person rather than Wilson’s village.

This tune also appeared in John Robertson’s The Seraph (Glasgow, 1827 | Fig. 4), where it bore both names, FENWICK and MARTYRDOM, and Robertson credited the tune to Wilson. In 1934, in an article for The Choir, vol. 25 (July 1934), pp. 155–156, folklorist Anne Gilchrist believed this melody bore a resemblance to the Scottish folk song “Helen of Kirkconnell,” the text of which can be found in The Ballads of Scotland, ed. William Aytoun, vol. 1 (Edinburgh: William Blackwood & Sons, 1858 | HathiTrust), pp. 41–43.

2. AT THE CROSS

In the United States, Watts’ hymn is commonly known via the gospel hymn tradition, from a setting by Ralph Hudson (1843–1901) for his Songs of Peace, Love, and Joy (1885 | Fig. 5). For his version, Hudson added a refrain, “At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light . . .”

The melody for the stanzas is best regarded as Hudson’s own work, but the melody for the refrain has much older roots, tracing back to a secular song by W.L. Bloomfield, “Take Me Home,” in 1853, re-composed by Hermann L. Schreiner in 1864, then adapted into a Christian refrain by members of the Salvation Army in the early 1880s. The melody of Hudson’s refrain should be credited to Hermann L. Schreiner (1832–1891), whereas the author of the text “At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light” is unclear. For a full history of the gospel refrain, see the article “At the Cross.”

by CHRIS FENNER
for Hymnology Archive
18 October 2018
rev. 28 February 2022

Footnotes:

1. Carl P. Daw Jr., “Alas! and did my Savior bleed,” Glory to God: A Companion (2016), p. 214.

2. Leland Ryken, “Alas! and did my Savior bleed,” 40 Favorite Hymns for the Christian Year (2020), p. 47.

3. Madeleine Forell Marshall, “Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,” Common Hymnsense (1995), pp. 30–31, 34–35.

4. Leland Ryken, “Alas! and did my Savior bleed,” 40 Favorite Hymns for the Christian Year (2020), pp. 47–48.

5. David W. Music, “Alas! and did my Savior bleed,” Repeat the Sounding Joy (2020), p. 25.

Related Resources:

James Love, “Hugh Wilson,” Scottish Church Music (London: William Blackwood & Sons, 1891), pp. 302–305: HathiTrust

John Julian, “Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,” A Dictionary of Hymnology (London, 1892), p. 34.

Lota M. Spell, Music in Texas (Austin, 1936), pp. 65-68: Archive.org

William Reynolds, “Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,” Hymns of Our Faith: A Handbook for the Baptist Hymnal (Nashville: Broadman Press, 1964), pp. 5–7.

Ernest K. Emurian, “Take me home at the cross,” The Hymn, vol. 31, no. 3 (July 1980), p. 195: HathiTrust

Carlton R. Young, “Alas! and did my Savior bleed,” Companion to the United Methodist Hymnal (Nashville: Abingdon, 1993), pp. 187–189.

Madeleine Forell Marshall, “Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,” Common Hymnsense (Chicago: GIA, 1995), pp. 30–35.

Carl P. Daw, Jr., “Alas! and did my Savior bleed,” Glory to God: A Companion (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2016), pp. 214–215.

Leland Ryken, “Alas! and did my Savior bleed,” 40 Favorite Hymns for the Christian Year (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2020), pp. 46–48.

David W. Music, “Alas! and did my Savior bleed,” Repeat the Sounding Joy: Reflections on Hymns by Isaac Watts (Macon, GA: Mercer, 2020), pp. 23–29.

Beverly Howard, “At the Cross (Alas! and did my Savior bleed),” Sing with Understanding, 3rd ed., edited by C. Michael Hawn (Chicago: GIA, 2022), pp. 210–213.

Alan Gaunt, “Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,” Canterbury Dictionary of Hymnology:
http://www.hymnology.co.uk/a/alas!-and-did-my-saviour-bleed

“Alas! and did my Savior bleed,” Hymnary.org:
https://hymnary.org/text/alas_and_did_my_savior_bleed