Lord’s Day, Vol. 7 No. 42

In the Cross of Christ I Glory

– Hymn Story

For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God. (1 Corinthians 1:18)

It is claimed by some writers that Sir John Bowring had visited Macao, on the South Chinese coast, and was much impressed by the sight of a bronze cross towering on the summit of the massive wall of what had formerly been a great cathedral. This cathedral, originally built by the early Portuguese colonists, overlooked the harbour and had been destroyed by a typhoon and left crumbled in its wake – except for one wall topped by the huge metal cross.

This scene is said to have so impressed Bowring that it eventually served as the inspiration for this beloved hymn. John Bowring was born at Exeter in Davon, England, on October 17, 1792. He was considered   to   be   one   of   the   most remarkable men of his day as well as one of the greatest linguists who ever lived. He was a member of nearly every learned society in Europe. Before he was sixteen years of age he had mastered five languages without the aid of a teacher. It is said that he could converse in over 100 different languages before his death. He also did much in translating literary works from these various languages. Throughout his life he was noted as a biographer, naturalist, financier, statesman and philanthropist. He served two terms in the House of Commons and in 1854 was appointed governor of Hong Kong. This same year he was knighted by Queen Victoria for outstanding service to his country.

He was a prolific writer on the subjects of politics, economics, and religion as well as the author of many poems and hymns, including the rather familiar missionary hymn, “Watchman, Tell Us of the Night.”

Yet despite his many accomplishments, including thirty-six volumes of published works, John Bowring is known today primarily as the author of this simply stated hymn text. On his tombstone are inscribed the words of this hymn, “In the Cross of Christ I Glory.”

The writing of the tune in 1851 by Ithamar Conkey is also interesting. He was the organist and choir master at the Central Baptist Church of Norwich, Connecticut. One Sunday during the Lenten season of that year, Conkey was disappointed when only one choir member appeared for the morning service, a faithful soprano by the name of Mrs. Beriah S. Rathbun. Conkey was so displeased and irritated with his choir’s unfaithfulness that he left the service in disgust immediately after playing the prelude. That afternoon he thought with remorse of the service that he had left and recalled one of the hymns to have been used, John Bowring’s text, “In the Cross of Christ I Glory,” sung to a dull and obsolete tune. Before the evening service Conkey composed a new tune for this text and named it after his one faithful member, Mrs. Rathbun. He confessed later that “the inspiration that came to me at that moment was a vivid contrast to my feelings at the morning service.”

The cross has been the most significant symbol of the Christian faith throughout church history.

It is said that as many as 40 different forms or designs of it have been used – the usual Latin Cross, the Greek Cross (all parts of the cross of equal length), the Budded Cross (each arm with three buds representing the Trinity), etc. Regardless of design, the symbol of the cross should always remind us of the price that was paid by the eternal God for man’s redemption.

1 In the cross of Christ I glory,
towering o’er the wrecks of time;
all the light of sacred story
gathers round its head sublime.

2 When the woes of life o’ertake me,
hopes deceive, and fears annoy,
never shall the cross forsake me.
Lo! it glows with peace and joy.

3 When the sun of bliss is beaming
light and love upon my way,
from the cross the radiance streaming
adds more luster to the day.

4 Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure,
by the cross are sanctified;
peace is there that knows no measure,
joys that through all time abide.

5 In the cross of Christ I glory,
towering o’er the wrecks of time;
all the light of sacred story
gathers round its head sublime.

Yours lovingly,
Pastor Lek Aik Wee