The great hymns that so many bemoan as lost may be the result that we are no longer willing to sit under the rich sermons from which so many of those hymns were born. Church history overflows with examples of influential preachers like the Wesleys and Robert Lowry, whose sermons stirred their listeners to respond in theologically substantive songs that echoed the biblical themes preached each Sunday. Hymns became a way for worshippers to practically apply the Word to their lives, allowing it to saturate their souls and spill out in praise. But today, our appetite for robust teaching has often waned as our culture craves easily digestible sound bites rather than sustained engagement with scriptural texts. Have we lost the richness that once marked both pulpit and hymnal?
The Tradition of Hymns Born from Sermons
Church leaders like John and Charles Wesley were known as preachers and organizers of the growing Methodist movement and prolific hymn writers. John famously preached lengthy sermons, sometimes up to two hours long, that drew on weighty theological themes and extensive scriptural engagement. His brother Charles would take inspiration from these messages to write verses and tunes designed for congregational singing. For example, after John preached an Advent sermon on anticipating Christ’s return, Charles penned the classic words “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” to reflect that biblical longing. The song became a way to apply practically and personally express the doctrine so vigorously communicated.
Other hymns were born when John emphasized a particular theological concept in his preaching that Charles then expanded through the creative use of imagery and meter. After a Pentecost sermon on the Holy Spirit’s sanctifying work, Charles wrote “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” as an invocation for God to enter our hearts and take over completely. The hymn beautifully summarizes the call to surrender all to the Spirit’s purifying power. When Charles was not riding circuit with his brother, he frequently attended services led by other ministers whose equally academic sermons inspired Charles to write new singable reflections.
Later, hymn writers followed the same pattern, with songs flowing from the seedbed of substantive preaching. Prolific hymn writer Fanny Crosby’s songs were often born from sermons she heard as a blind woman. And Robert Lowry, known for classics like “Shall We Gather at the River,” frequently took his Sunday morning message as inspiration for the hymns his congregation would soon be singing. After preaching on the paradise described in Revelation 22, Lowry went home to pen the lyrics, imagining believers gathered along the crystal stream in heaven – all brought back to the Light by the Lamb. As with numerous Lowry hymns, biblical imagery delivered through preaching soon found elaborated expression in stanzas paired with a memorable tune.
Hymns Allowed Congregations to Live Out the Sermon
Beyond emotional responses to moving oratory, these enduring hymns served a theological purpose in distilling doctrinal truth into a form that people could carry with them, humming around the house or singing enthusiastically in the workhouses. We see the apostle Paul instructing the early Colossian church: “Let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God” (Colossians 3:16). Hymns were thus a critical embodiment of the preached Word, allowing it to sink into everyday Christian living.
After being confronted with their sin and arrogance in John Wesley’s piercing sermons, early Methodists belted out verses speaking of being “plenteous in mercy…saving, helping, keeping, loving” commoners who once were lost but now were found. When they failed to live righteously throughout the week, Charles’ bold hymns reminded them of God’s grace: “My God, how wonderful thou art… Oh how I fear thee, living God…” The song became a personal confession and realignment.
When crowds gathered outdoors in the thousands, John would preach about God’s extravagant love offered through Christ, and Charles would give them lyrics to sing on the road home: “O Love divine, what hast thou done! The immortal God hath died for me!” The gospel came alive through word and song. Biblical truth preached on Sunday lived on through hymns resonating daily in the hearts of laypeople.
The Lost Art of Rich, Inspiring Sermons
Yet over time, in many churches, the sermon has diminished into a shorter, less robust theological treatment more dependent on personal anecdotes than sustained wrestling with Scripture. Biblical references casually sprinkle our messages but in minimal depth. We are often passive listeners checking off a religious duty rather than expecting a spiritual encounter with God through preaching. Our appetite for rich spiritual nourishment has waned as we indulge in shorter attention spans and demand entertainment value.
As a result, those great historically grounded hymns birthed from vigorous theological sermons become rarer. The weekly songs we now sing can become emotionally effusive choruses rather than sermon-summary statements of doctrine put to music. Producing substantial lyric content requires time-consuming intentional craft—time we rarely spend when another chorus will suffice.
Suppose we want our songs to reflect profound biblical truth rather than trite platitudes. In that case, we must recover the lost art of immersive, meticulous preaching that stimulates response across all spheres of life. Like Wesley and Lowry’s congregations, our souls and songs would again be saturated in the Word, reminding us of our hope in Christ.
Preacher and Parishioner Roles
Reviving rich biblical preaching requires skilled and Spirit-empowered homileticians and listeners willing to receive uncomfortable truths. We congregants must discipline ourselves against short attention spans and demand for casual inspiration, preparing our hearts for penetrating critique. The gospel often proves an offense before relief, and dense theological discourse rarely offers light entertainment. But if we lean in prayerfully to substantial sermons, we ready ourselves to respond—even in song.
The great legacy of hymns points to the power of the Word proclaimed, and the Word echoed back personally in sung expression. After Jesus shared the symbolically rich Passover meal in the Upper Room, Matthew 26 notes that “when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.” May our worship gatherings also close with hymns born of meditating on the riches of the Word preached, allowing it to permeate life. This is the fertile ground that births lyrics still resounding centuries later.
Josh Cehulik 