Are you in a relationship with someone in whom all your significance, self-worth and identity is wrapped up?
Could you survive on your own if they were subtracted from your life?
Would you bow to a grace that offers a Greater Love…and be utterly, supremely satisfied?
George Matheson would have to find out.
At age 20, George was engaged to be married to the girl of his dreams. But something sinister invaded their romance; something so dark and horrible, his fiancée walked away from him and never looked back.
George was going blind.
George had already authored two volumes on theology and, were he to have retained his sight, would likely have been a prolific writer in his Scottish homeland. His sister offered to look after her brother and moved her belongings into his home and for years assisted George with all of his daily needs. Though he lost his dear sweetheart, God swooped in and blessed him with a diligent life partner.
Life was good. Or as much as it could be…when you’re blind.
Alas, the story is not finished. Again, the opaque spectre of gloom made its illicit entrance into George’s world but only, this time, riding on the wings of a sweet and innocent interlude as George’s sister fell in love and made plans to marry. Once again, he faced the biting prospect of having his security wrested from his grasp. As he felt the familiar agony of soul in which he would be forced to relinquish all he held dear, all that buttressed and sustained him, George had to find a Higher, Greater and Fixed Love.
What happened next is a beautiful soliloquy, penned in grace, to the matchless, eternally romantic love of God.
This new testament of George overwrites his sorrowful stanza of loss. It nobly testifies to gain.
His, and ours.
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 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