I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.
Song of Solomon 2:1
Words: Charles W. Fry, 1881. First published in The War Cry by the Salvation Army (SA), December 29, 1881. Fry wrote the lyrics in Lincoln, England, while working with the SA there.
Music: William S. Hays, adapted by Charles W. Fry (🔊 pdf nwc).
A young Jewess had been converted in London through her German governess. She had been forbidden to read the New Testament by her parents, who were ardent Jews; but while reading Isaiah 53 she found the Messiah, and was soon expelled from her home.
She then went to Germany, and herself acted as governess for several years.
When she heard of Mr. Moody’s work at Northfield, she decided to go there. Having been entertained in London for a few weeks by Mr. Denny, a prominent lay man, this gentleman asked me one day in London, as I was about to sail for America, if I would see her safely across the ocean, which I promised to do.
In Louisville she first saw Mr. Moody. On leaving Louisville she went to New York and applied to the Presbyterian Board of Foreign Missions for appointment as a foreign missionary. There being some delay in accepting her application, she decided to go with the Rev. Hudson Taylor, whom she had met at Northfield.
On arriving in China she adopted the garb of the Chinese women, and became a faithful and useful worker. After two years she was married to a missionary from Scotland. They are still engaged in missionary work in Northern China.
Sankey, pp. 383–84
Auntie, please singsaid a little girl of six, as she stood by the piano in company with a number of other children on a Sunday evening. In a few minutes all present were singing:Lily of the Valley,I’ve found a friend in Jesus,
He’s everything to me;
He’s the fairest of ten thousand
To my soul.And the little one, who knew only the chorus, joined in heartily with the rest, her clear voice ringing out sweetly amid those of the older children. When her auntie would play on the piano she would always run to her and beg for one or another of her favorite hymns, but her favorite was
Lily of the Valley,and she never tired of hearing it.The following winter was a very severe one, and this little girl was stricken with diphtheria. Nothing would soothe her but to have her mother sing to her. Over and over again the mother would sing all the songs she knew, but specially
The Lily of the Valley.One morning, soon after dawn, the child seemed to be a little brighter, and tried to raise her hand, as though she wished to speak. Tenderly, the mother asked what she wanted, and the girl whispered,
SingThe Lily of the Valleyonce more.With tears streaming down her cheeks the mother attempted to sing the first verse and the chorus. A smile broke over the little one’s face, and as her head drooped back on the pillow her spirit went out into the bosom of Him, who is indeed the
Lily of the Valley and the fairest of ten thousand.Bitter indeed were the tears when they realized that their darling was no more; but their sorrow was lightened by the knowledge that she was free from pain, and they will always treasure with her memory the hymn she loved so well.
Sankey, pp. 384–87
I have found a friend in Jesus,
He’s everything to me,
He’s the fairest of ten thousand to my soul;
The Lily of the Valley, in Him alone I see
All I need to cleanse and make me fully whole.
In sorrow He’s my comfort,
In trouble He’s my stay;
He tells me every care on Him to roll.
Refrain
He’s the Lily of the Valley,
The Bright and Morning Star,
He’s the fairest of ten thousand to my soul.
He all my grief has taken,
And all my sorrows borne;
In temptation He’s my strong and mighty tower;
I have all for Him forsaken, and all my idols torn
From my heart and now He keeps me by His power.
Though all the world forsake me,
And Satan tempt me sore,
Through Jesus I shall safely reach the goal.
Refrain
He will never, never leave me,
Nor yet forsake me here,
While I live by faith and do His blessèd will;
A wall of fire about me, I’ve nothing now to fear,
From His manna He my hungry soul shall fill.
Then sweeping up to glory
To see His blessèd face,
Where the rivers of delight shall ever roll.
Refrain