December 14, 1836, Astley, Worcestershire, England.
June 3, 1879, Caswell Bay (near Swansea), Wales.
Astley, Worcestershire, England, the city of her birth. On her tombstone was the Scripture verse she claimed as her own:
The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin.
1 John 1:7
Daughter of William Havergal, Frances was a bright but short lived candle in English hymnody. She was baptized by hymnist John Cawood, was reading by age four, and began writing verse at age seven. She learned Latin, Greek and Hebrew, and memorized the Psalms, the book of Isaiah, and most of the New Testament. Her works include:
Havergal wrote this to another hymn writer:
To Fanny Crosby
Sweet blind singer over the sea,
Tuneful and jubilant, how can it be
That the songs of gladness, which float so far,
As if they fell from the evening star,
Are the notes of one who never may see
Visible music
of flower and tree,
Purple of mountains, or glitter of snow,
Ruby and gold of the sunset glow,
And never the light of a loving face?
Must not the world be a desolate place
For eyes that are sealed with the seal of years,
Eyes that are open only for tears?
How can she sing in the dark like this?
What is her fountain of light and bliss?
O, her heart can see, her heart can see!
And its sight is strong, and swift and free;
Never the ken of mortal eye
Could pierce so deep, and far, and high
As the eagle vision of hearts that dwell
In the lofty, sunlit citadel
Of Faith that overcomes the world.
With banners of Hope and Joy unfurled,
Garrisoned with God’s perfect Peace,
Ringing with paeans that never cease,
Flooded with splendor bright and broad,
The glorious light of the Love of God.
Her heart can see, her heart can see!
Well may she sing so joyously!
For the King Himself, in His tender grace,
Hath shown her the brightness of His face;
And who shall pine for a glowworm light
When the sun goes forth in His radiant might?
She can read His law, as a shining chart,
For His finger hath written it on her heart;
She can read His love, for on all her way
His hand is writing it every day
Bright cloud
indeed must that darkness be
Where Jesus only
the heart can see.
Her heart can see! her heart can see,
Beyond the glooms and the mystery,
Glimpses of glory not far away,
Golden crystal and emerald bow,
Luster of pearl and sapphire glow,
Sparkling river and healing tree,
Evergreen palms of victory,
Harp and crown and raiment white,
Holy and beautiful dwellers in light,
A throne, and One thereon, whose face
Is the glory of that glorious place.
Dear blind sister over the sea
An English heart goes forth to thee.
We are linked by a cable of faith and song,
Flashing bright sympathy swift along;
One in the East and one in the West,
Singing for Him whom our souls love best,
Singing for Jesus,
telling His love,
All the way to our home above.
Where the severing sea, with its restless tide,
Never shall hinder, and never divide.
Sister! what will our meeting be,
When our hearts shall sing and our eyes shall see!
PRELUDE TO HAVERGAL’S Ministry of Song, 1870
Amid the broken waters of our ever-restless thought,
Oh be my verse an answering gleam from higher radiance caught;
That where through dark o’erarching boughs of sorrow, doubt and sin,
The glorious Star of Bethlehem upon the flood looks in,
Its tiny trembling ray may bid some downcast vision turn
To that enkindling Light, for which all earthly shadows yearn.
Oh be my verse a hidden stream, which silently may flow
Where drooping leaf and thirsty flower in lonely valleys grow;
And often by its shady course to pilgrim hearts be brought,
The quiet and refreshment of an upward-pointing thought;
Till, blending with the broad bright stream of sanctified endeavor,
God’s glory be its ocean home, the end it seeketh ever.