Scripture Verse

He heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth. Mark 10:47

Introduction

portrait
Theodore E. Perkins
(1831–1912)

Words: Em­ma F. R. Camp­bell, 1864. She wrote this song af­ter hear­ing R. J. Par­dee preach at a re­viv­al meet­ing in New­ark, New Jersey. Ini­tial­ly, the song was pub­lished un­der the pseu­do­nym Eta (the Greek let­ter), lead­ing ear­ly hym­nals to give the au­thor as Miss Eta Camp­bell. De­cades lat­er, Camp­bell wrote a book de­scrib­ing the song’s ori­gin.

Music: Las Pal­mas Theo­dore E. Per­kins (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tune:

If you know where to get a good pho­to of Campbell (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

Anecdote

An of­fi­cer of the Eng­lish ar­my sends me the fol­low­ing in­ci­dent: “A sol­dier was sta­tioned at Ed­in­burgh Cas­tle, and one ev­en­ing left his post on a pass un­til mid­night.

He had a week’s pay in one pock­et and the wash­ing mo­ney earned by his wife in the oth­er, and was on his way to the pub­lic house to have a night in gam­bling. His eye caught the pos­ter out­side the Tol­booth Church, an­nounc­ing your meet­ings. The of­fi­cer liked the sing­ing, and went in just to hear one song.

As he en­tered, Mr. Moody was preach­ing on ‘The Blood.’ That had no in­te­rest for him. Af­ter the ad­dress you sang, ‘Je­sus of Na­za­reth pas­seth by.’ He list­ened with deep in­te­rest to the hymn. ‘Too late, too late,’ was God’s ar­row to his soul.

An of­fic­er of his re­gi­ment and I went in­to the in­quiry-room, and among a great crowd we saw this com­rade’s red coat. He was in great dis­tress. We spoke to him, hold­ing to John 3:16.

That night the man went home in­stead of to the pub­lic house, and his wife was as­ton­ished to see him so ear­ly, and so­ber. He laid down all the mo­ney on the ta­ble, which as­ton­ished her still more.

Then he went to bed, but was in too great dis­tress to be able to sleep. The words Too late, too late rang in his ears. About two o’clock in the morn­ing John 3:16 gleamed in­to his soul. He leaped from the bed, plead­ed that grand pro­mise, and Je­sus re­ceived him.

This was told the fol­low­ing morn­ing by him­self at the Cas­tle. He held to his faith, and when the re­gi­ment left he was known through­out the camp as a man of God. The glo­ri­ous Gos­pel with him be­gan in song, and goes in song.

Sankey, pp. 180–81

Lyrics

What means this ea­ger, anx­ious throng,
Pressing our bu­sy streets along?
These won­drous ga­ther­ings day by day,
What means this strange com­mo­tion, pray?
Voices in ac­cents hushed re­ply,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.
Voices in ac­cents hushed re­ply,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.

E’en child­ren feel the po­tent spell
And haste their new-found joy to tell.
In crowds they to the place re­pair
Where Chris­tians dai­ly bow in pray­er,
Hosannas min­gle with the cry,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.
Hosannas min­gle with the cry,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.

Who is this Je­sus? Why should He
The ci­ty move so migh­ti­ly?
A pass­ing stran­ger, has He skill
To move the mul­ti­tude at will?
Again the stir­ring tones re­ply,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.
Again the stir­ring tones re­ply,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.

Jesus! ’tis He who once be­low
Man’s path­way trod ’mid pain and woe;
And bur­dened ones where’er He came,
Brought out their sick and deaf and lame;
Blind men re­joiced to hear the cry,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.
Blind men re­joiced to hear the cry,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.

Again He comes—from place to place
His ho­ly foot­prints we can trace;
He paus­es at our thresh­old, nay,
He en­ters, con­des­cends to stay:
Shall we not glad­ly raise the cry
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.
Shall we not glad­ly raise the cry
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.

Bring out your sick and blind and lame,
’Tis to re­store them Je­sus came;
Compassion in­fi­nite you’ll find
With bound­less pow­er in Him com­bined.
Come quick­ly while sal­va­tion’s nigh,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.
Come quick­ly while sal­va­tion’s nigh,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.

Ye sin-sick souls, who feel your need,
He comes to you, a friend in­deed;
Rise from your wea­ry, wake­ful couch,
Haste to se­cure His heal­ing touch;
No long­er sad­ly wait and sigh,
Jesus of Nazareth pass­eth by.
No long­er sad­ly wait and sigh,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.

Ho! all ye hea­vy la­den, come!
Here’s par­don, com­fort, rest, a home:
Ye wan­der­ers from a Fa­ther’s face,
Return, ac­cept His prof­fered grace;
Ye tempt­ed ones, there’s re­fuge nigh:
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.
Ye tempt­ed ones, there’s re­fuge nigh:
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.

Ye who are bur­ied in the grave
Of sin, His pow­er alone can save;
His voice can bid your dead souls live,
True spir­it-life and free­dom give.
Awake! Arise! for strength ap­ply,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.
Awake! Arise! for strength ap­ply,
Jesus of Na­za­reth pass­eth by.

But if you still this call re­fuse,
And dare such won­drous love abuse,
Soon will He sad­ly from you turn,
Your bit­ter pray­er for mer­cy spurn,
Too late! too late! will be the cry—
Jesus of Na­za­reth has passed by.
Too late! too late! will be the cry—
Jesus of Na­za­reth has passed by.