Praise for the Lord #150
Words & Music by Ira F. Stanphill, 1953
By the 1940s the Southern gospel music phenomenon was transitioning from the traveling singing-school teachers, selling their songbooks at country churches from the trunk of a car, to well-organized singing conventions advertised on radio by nationally famous quartets. A new generation of songwriters was coming of age as well, such as Mosie Lister (1921-2015), Vep Ellis (1917-1988), Lee Roy Abernathy (1913-1933), Elmo Mercer (born 1932 but with a career starting in his teens), and the author of the song under consideration, Ira Forest Stanphill (1914-1993). Having grown up with radio, and thus being familiar with a broad range of American popular music, they often wrote songs that were as effective as solos on the radio or in concert as they were for congregational singing. The emerging generational difference in Southern gospel was highlighted in the disappointing assessment Frank Stamps delivered to a young Ira Stanphill: "Ira, these pieces don't really fit into our publishing standards. They aren't Southern gospel. That's not to say that they aren't good; it's just that they... they don't fit our mold" (Stanphill 44). Despite this gentle rejection (and others less so), Stanphill stuck to his muse and eventually found widespread success. His "Follow me," "Room at the cross," and "I know who holds tomorrow" are prime examples of this new gospel style and have even been recorded by secular artists.
The occasion of writing "Follow me" was told by Stanphill in an interview summarized by Lindsay Terry in his Stories Behind 50 Southern Gospel Favorites. Stanphill had attended a missionary conference in Grand Prairie, Texas, where he heard the famous Assemblies of God missionary Charles Greenaway speak of the difficulties he and his wife Mary had faced in their early years in Africa. At one point, Greenaway indicated, the slow progress of the work, and Mary's chronically poor health, had brought him to the point of admitting defeat. But after a time in prayer, he believed that he had received his answer from the Lord: "Why don't you just follow Me, and leave the results in My hands?" (Though I do not subscribe to the belief in modern-day direct revelation, I can understand the sentiment, which after all could be a paraphrase of Jesus' words to Peter in John 22.) Ira Stanphill, who had faced a great deal of heartbreak and discouragement in his own life from his troubled first marriage (Gaer 8, 25), was deeply moved by Greenaway's words. He took the words "Follow me" as inspiration and wrote the song the next morning (Terry 1:131).
"Follow me" is one of those songs that I have changed my mind about over the years. At first encounter it seemed to be one of those gospel songs that follow what could be called the "Oh poor me" trope, in which the writer describes a life of misery and unfairness. (Granting of course that for some people life is in fact full of misery and unfairness, this seems a disturbingly frequent theme in the genre.) I was somewhat chagrined when, with a more mature and thoughtful reading, I realized that Stanphill is in fact saying quite the opposite. In each stanza of the imagined conversation between a Christian and Jesus, the Lord replies in a gently ironic tone that re-contextualizes the Christian's complaint from a more spiritually mature point of view.
Stanza 1:
I traveled down a lonely road
And no one seemed to care,
The burden on my weary back
Had bowed me to despair,
I oft complained to Jesus
How folks were treating me,
And then I heard Him say so tenderly,
Up to this point there is nothing unusual in the lyrics; I could point to a dozen other gospel songs on the same theme. The typical continuation would be a chorus looking forward to the joys of heaven. Instead, Stanphill gives us this to think about:
"My feet were also weary,
Upon the Calv'ry road;
The cross became so heavy,
I fell beneath the load,
Be faithful weary pilgrim,
The morning I can see,
Just lift your cross and follow close to Me."
Before we begin to think our burdens our heavy, let us consider the treatment faced by One who deserved nothing but the best in this world:
In consideration of what Jesus went through for my sake, through no deserving of His own, how can I even begin to compare my suffering to His? Yet He bore it with grace, without complaint. The writer of Hebrews reminds us to "consider Him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood" (Hebrews 12:3-4). We know that some Christians in some parts of the world today have in fact resisted to that point; I have not had to, and may God help me to keep my troubles in perspective.
Stanza 2:
"I work so hard for Jesus,"
I often boast and say,
"I've sacrificed a lot of things
To walk the narrow way,"
I gave up fame and fortune;
I'm worth a lot to Thee,"
And then I hear Him gently say to me,
"I left the throne of glory
And counted it but loss,
My hands were nailed in anger
Upon a cruel cross,
But now we'll make the journey
With your hand safe in Mine,
So lift your cross and follow close to Me."
Most of us will have some difficulty with the idea that we have given up "fame and fortune" for Christ, but in the context of Ira Stanphill's life this rings true. He obviously had the talent to write in the popular and country-western styles; he could have followed his first wife's inclinations toward secular music and found a much broader career as a performer and songwriter. But Stanphill was committed to serve in ministry, which proved a far less lucrative field and often just as uncertain. In addition, after his first wife divorced him and left with another man, Stanphill felt he must hold out hope that they would reconcile someday. Despite his loneliness and the difficulty of raising a son on his own, he was committed to remain single as long as she lived. Though the churches generally seemed to accept the situation, it was a painful hardship on his ministry. The cost of following Jesus according to his conscience was personally pretty high for Ira Stanphill.
But the point of the stanza is that the Christian's perspective on loss is fundamentally transformed by two factors. First, the good things of this world are blessings we enjoy by the Lord's goodness, and not because of our own deserving. It is a hard lesson to hear, but there was truth in Job's words, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD" (Job 1:21). Job's understanding of the situation was incomplete, but his attitude was correct--he was never owed those blessings in the first place. As Job told his wife in the following chapter, "Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?" (Job 2:10).
In the second place, the Christian's perspective on loss is transformed by the example of Jesus. Peter did not yet understand this, as a disciple still in training, when he declared, "See, we have left everything and followed you" (Mark 10:28). One can only imagine, on hearing that statement, what might have gone through the mind of One who,
O, Jesus if I die upon
A foreign field some day,
'Twould be no more than love demands,
No less could I repay,
"No greater love hath mortal man
Than for a friend to die;"
These are the words He gently spoke to me,
"If just a cup of water
I place within your hand,
Then just a cup of water
Is all that I demand,"
But if by death to living
They can Thy glory see,
I'll take my cross and follow close to Thee.
The final stanza's turn to missionary work ("a foreign field") is much easier to understand in context of the song's background, discussed earlier. Mary Greenaway, wife of the missionary whose words inspired this song, endangered her life by remaining in the field instead of returning home during her extended illness. No doubt her husband Charles could have faced death more easily himself, than to risk hers; but they continued in spite of the cost. In contemplation of this spirit of self-sacrifice, Stanphill quotes Jesus' words from John 15:13, "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends," and remarks that in view of all that Christ has done for us, there is nothing we can begrudge Him in return. Whatever the suffering of this life demands of us will be far less than He deserves from us, in return for His sacrifice. In contrast to the tone of complaint in the earlier stanzas, the Christian now expresses a wish to sacrifice his all in gratitude to his Lord.
At the midpoint of each stanza thus far, there has been an imagined corrective response from Jesus, which suggests that (if the songwriter is consistent) even the noble sentiments of the preceding lines need an adjustment of perspective. I believe that continues to be the case in the second half of the final stanza. As noble as it is to offer everything--even one's life--to the cause of Christ, with every noble intention there is a subtle danger of pride. That risk was wisely noted by the early nineteenth-century missionary Adoniram Judson in his "Advice to Missionary Candidates":
The imagined response from Jesus is a little ambiguous. The Scripture reference, of course, is obvious:
Either interpretation is Scriptural and appropriate. If we are called upon to do great things in God's service, and to make great sacrifices, let us do so humbly and say in Christ's words, "We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty" (Luke 17:10). And in the desire to do more in God's service, let us never neglect the "small" acts of service that are right before us (and of course they may not be small acts at all to those whom they benefit). Charles Spurgeon memorably spoke to this topic in his commentary on Psalm 131:
About the music:
Stanphill's music is simple but well-written, and whether he did so purposely or intuitively, he structured it with certain unifying ideas that make it an excellent example of the modern gospel style. First of all, the opening half of the melody is built with phrases that descend stepwise (mostly) through a narrow range. This is mirrored in the alto with a descending chromatic line through the first phrase. Along the way, the alto's C-flat turns the harmony from major to minor mode just before the first cadence.
[The following musical excerpts are provided for analysis and criticism under the terms of fair use for educational purposes.]
The narrow and constricted nature of the melody is amplified by moving from open to close harmony by the end of each of the first three phrases. In the final phrase of the first half, the harmony remains close, and the alto's previous chromatic descent is reflected in the bass line.
Musical gestures such as these--descending chromatic lines, unexpected minor chords, and melodic phrases that seem trapped within a narrow range--convey a sense of sadness and despair, which suits the text in the first half of each stanza. If Stanphill had continued the entire song in this cast, it would have been a pretty dismal project indeed! But the structure of the text turns at this point to the imagined corrective reply from Jesus, and the music follows suit:
In a sudden (and gutsy) change of pace, Stanphill kicks the melody up into the upper half of the octave. Where we previously had descending chromatic notes, now they ascend, invigorating the harmony (the F-sharp in the alto before the end of the first phrase, and the A-naturals in the next-to-last measure of the next phrase). The majority of the harmony is written in open position, especially in the second phrase. Stanphill also builds up to the highest note of the melody toward the end of this section. The overall musical effect is as if someone flipped the lights on!
The final two phrases of the text of each stanza turn from the perspective of Jesus back to the resulting change of heart in the Christian. The music follows, repeating the 3rd and 4th phrases of the opening half; but after the dramatic contrast of the preceding section, and with the chastened tone of the text, the music now comes across differently. What initially sounded like despair and complaining is reinterpreted as calm resignation. This was exactly the point of the text, of course.
Once again, I am not suggesting the Stanphill sat down and decided to do these things, although they may have crossed his mind during the writing process. Some may have been intuitive choices, or even a fortuitous combination of notes that struck him as appropriate as he composed. I suspect, however, that good songwriters put more thought into these things than is sometimes apparent.
References:
Gohr, Glenn. "This side of heaven: the story of Ira Stanphill and his popular gospel songs." Assemblies of God Heritage volume 14, number 2 (Spring 1994): 5-9, 24-26. http://ifphc.org/pdf/Heritage/1994_02.pdf (PDF download)
Judson, Edward. The Life of Adoniram Judson. New York: A.D.F. Randolph & Co, 1883. https://archive.org/details/lifeofadoniramju00judsiala
Spurgeon, Charles H. The Treasury of David, ? vols. New York, Toronto: Funk & Wagnalls, 1892 (reprint). https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/007114227/
Stanphill, Ira. This Side of Heaven. Fort Worth, Texas: Hymntime Ministries, 1983.
Terry, Lindsay. Stories Behind 50 Southern Gospel Favorites. Volume 1. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Kregel, 2002.
Words & Music by Ira F. Stanphill, 1953
By the 1940s the Southern gospel music phenomenon was transitioning from the traveling singing-school teachers, selling their songbooks at country churches from the trunk of a car, to well-organized singing conventions advertised on radio by nationally famous quartets. A new generation of songwriters was coming of age as well, such as Mosie Lister (1921-2015), Vep Ellis (1917-1988), Lee Roy Abernathy (1913-1933), Elmo Mercer (born 1932 but with a career starting in his teens), and the author of the song under consideration, Ira Forest Stanphill (1914-1993). Having grown up with radio, and thus being familiar with a broad range of American popular music, they often wrote songs that were as effective as solos on the radio or in concert as they were for congregational singing. The emerging generational difference in Southern gospel was highlighted in the disappointing assessment Frank Stamps delivered to a young Ira Stanphill: "Ira, these pieces don't really fit into our publishing standards. They aren't Southern gospel. That's not to say that they aren't good; it's just that they... they don't fit our mold" (Stanphill 44). Despite this gentle rejection (and others less so), Stanphill stuck to his muse and eventually found widespread success. His "Follow me," "Room at the cross," and "I know who holds tomorrow" are prime examples of this new gospel style and have even been recorded by secular artists.
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| Ira Stanphill (photo from CyberHymnal) |
"Follow me" is one of those songs that I have changed my mind about over the years. At first encounter it seemed to be one of those gospel songs that follow what could be called the "Oh poor me" trope, in which the writer describes a life of misery and unfairness. (Granting of course that for some people life is in fact full of misery and unfairness, this seems a disturbingly frequent theme in the genre.) I was somewhat chagrined when, with a more mature and thoughtful reading, I realized that Stanphill is in fact saying quite the opposite. In each stanza of the imagined conversation between a Christian and Jesus, the Lord replies in a gently ironic tone that re-contextualizes the Christian's complaint from a more spiritually mature point of view.
Stanza 1:
I traveled down a lonely road
And no one seemed to care,
The burden on my weary back
Had bowed me to despair,
I oft complained to Jesus
How folks were treating me,
And then I heard Him say so tenderly,
Up to this point there is nothing unusual in the lyrics; I could point to a dozen other gospel songs on the same theme. The typical continuation would be a chorus looking forward to the joys of heaven. Instead, Stanphill gives us this to think about:
"My feet were also weary,
Upon the Calv'ry road;
The cross became so heavy,
I fell beneath the load,
Be faithful weary pilgrim,
The morning I can see,
Just lift your cross and follow close to Me."
Before we begin to think our burdens our heavy, let us consider the treatment faced by One who deserved nothing but the best in this world:
He was despised and rejected by men; a Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces He was despised, and we esteemed Him not (Isaiah 53:3).If I look at my problems honestly, I can see that in some of them I have myself to blame, in part or in whole; but He was completely without fault. Instead,
He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned--every one--to his own way; and the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all (Isaiah 53:5-6).All of this mistreatment came to a head in His crucifixion, when Jesus, who had once silenced every debater, refused to raise an argument in His own defense against the unjust accusers.
He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, yet He opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so He opened not his mouth (Isaiah 53:7).Instead He "went out, bearing His own cross" (John 19:17). At one point Simon of Cyrene was pressed into service to carry the cross instead (Mark 15:21), and from this we surmise that Jesus' physical body had reached its limits and was no longer able to carry it. Even then He not yet begun the worst that day would bring.
In consideration of what Jesus went through for my sake, through no deserving of His own, how can I even begin to compare my suffering to His? Yet He bore it with grace, without complaint. The writer of Hebrews reminds us to "consider Him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood" (Hebrews 12:3-4). We know that some Christians in some parts of the world today have in fact resisted to that point; I have not had to, and may God help me to keep my troubles in perspective.
Stanza 2:
"I work so hard for Jesus,"
I often boast and say,
"I've sacrificed a lot of things
To walk the narrow way,"
I gave up fame and fortune;
I'm worth a lot to Thee,"
And then I hear Him gently say to me,
"I left the throne of glory
And counted it but loss,
My hands were nailed in anger
Upon a cruel cross,
But now we'll make the journey
With your hand safe in Mine,
So lift your cross and follow close to Me."
Most of us will have some difficulty with the idea that we have given up "fame and fortune" for Christ, but in the context of Ira Stanphill's life this rings true. He obviously had the talent to write in the popular and country-western styles; he could have followed his first wife's inclinations toward secular music and found a much broader career as a performer and songwriter. But Stanphill was committed to serve in ministry, which proved a far less lucrative field and often just as uncertain. In addition, after his first wife divorced him and left with another man, Stanphill felt he must hold out hope that they would reconcile someday. Despite his loneliness and the difficulty of raising a son on his own, he was committed to remain single as long as she lived. Though the churches generally seemed to accept the situation, it was a painful hardship on his ministry. The cost of following Jesus according to his conscience was personally pretty high for Ira Stanphill.
But the point of the stanza is that the Christian's perspective on loss is fundamentally transformed by two factors. First, the good things of this world are blessings we enjoy by the Lord's goodness, and not because of our own deserving. It is a hard lesson to hear, but there was truth in Job's words, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD" (Job 1:21). Job's understanding of the situation was incomplete, but his attitude was correct--he was never owed those blessings in the first place. As Job told his wife in the following chapter, "Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?" (Job 2:10).
In the second place, the Christian's perspective on loss is transformed by the example of Jesus. Peter did not yet understand this, as a disciple still in training, when he declared, "See, we have left everything and followed you" (Mark 10:28). One can only imagine, on hearing that statement, what might have gone through the mind of One who,
Though He was in the form of God, [He] did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men (Philippians 2:6-7).In typical fashion, Jesus put self aside and made it a moment to teach His eager but immature disciples, who had not even begun to realize the cost of following Him. An older, tougher, and wiser Peter would say:
Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed (1 Peter 4:12-13).The apostle Paul concurred, in a verse that probably inspired Stanphill's lyrics:
Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ (Philippians 3:8).Stanza 3:
O, Jesus if I die upon
A foreign field some day,
'Twould be no more than love demands,
No less could I repay,
"No greater love hath mortal man
Than for a friend to die;"
These are the words He gently spoke to me,
"If just a cup of water
I place within your hand,
Then just a cup of water
Is all that I demand,"
But if by death to living
They can Thy glory see,
I'll take my cross and follow close to Thee.
The final stanza's turn to missionary work ("a foreign field") is much easier to understand in context of the song's background, discussed earlier. Mary Greenaway, wife of the missionary whose words inspired this song, endangered her life by remaining in the field instead of returning home during her extended illness. No doubt her husband Charles could have faced death more easily himself, than to risk hers; but they continued in spite of the cost. In contemplation of this spirit of self-sacrifice, Stanphill quotes Jesus' words from John 15:13, "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends," and remarks that in view of all that Christ has done for us, there is nothing we can begrudge Him in return. Whatever the suffering of this life demands of us will be far less than He deserves from us, in return for His sacrifice. In contrast to the tone of complaint in the earlier stanzas, the Christian now expresses a wish to sacrifice his all in gratitude to his Lord.
At the midpoint of each stanza thus far, there has been an imagined corrective response from Jesus, which suggests that (if the songwriter is consistent) even the noble sentiments of the preceding lines need an adjustment of perspective. I believe that continues to be the case in the second half of the final stanza. As noble as it is to offer everything--even one's life--to the cause of Christ, with every noble intention there is a subtle danger of pride. That risk was wisely noted by the early nineteenth-century missionary Adoniram Judson in his "Advice to Missionary Candidates":
Beware of pride; not the pride of proud men, but the pride of humble men--that secret pride which is apt to grow out of the consciousness that we are esteemed by the great and good. This pride sometimes eats out the vitals of religion before its existence is suspected (Judson, 579).Harsh words but true! Never doubt that Satan is clever enough to take even our proper satisfaction in providing service to God and our fellow humanity, as an opportunity to tempt us into sin!
The imagined response from Jesus is a little ambiguous. The Scripture reference, of course, is obvious:
Whoever receives you receives Me, and whoever receives Me receives Him who sent Me. The one who receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet's reward, and the one who receives a righteous person because he is a righteous person will receive a righteous person's reward. And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward (Matthew 10:40-42).The relevant aspect of this passage is that services done in Jesus' name, whether small or great, will receive their reward: in fact, Jesus points out, "even a cup of cold water" (a comparatively minor act) will not be unrewarded. But what is the intent of the reference in the context of this song? I see two different possible readings of this stanza. Perhaps it is as though Jesus said, "You are right to be willing to sacrifice everything up to and including your life, but beware of pride; by comparison to My sacrifice, it is no greater than the cup of cold water." Or. perhaps, it is as though He said, "It is all very well to dream of doing great things, but do not neglect the simple acts of kindness that I place in your grasp every day."
Either interpretation is Scriptural and appropriate. If we are called upon to do great things in God's service, and to make great sacrifices, let us do so humbly and say in Christ's words, "We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty" (Luke 17:10). And in the desire to do more in God's service, let us never neglect the "small" acts of service that are right before us (and of course they may not be small acts at all to those whom they benefit). Charles Spurgeon memorably spoke to this topic in his commentary on Psalm 131:
Many through wishing to be great have failed to be good: they were not content to adorn the lowly stations which the Lord appointed them, and so they have rushed at grandeur and power, and found destruction where they looked for honour. ...
Such is the vanity of many men that if a work be within their range they despise it, and think it beneath them: the only service which they are willing to undertake is that to which they have never been called, and for which they are by no means qualified. What a haughty heart must he have who will not serve God at all unless he may be trusted with five talents at the least! (Treasury of David, VII, 87).May we humbly accept each trial with the faith that God will bring us through it, the assurance that Jesus knows personally what human suffering is like, and the determination to glorify God by how we respond to it.
About the music:
Stanphill's music is simple but well-written, and whether he did so purposely or intuitively, he structured it with certain unifying ideas that make it an excellent example of the modern gospel style. First of all, the opening half of the melody is built with phrases that descend stepwise (mostly) through a narrow range. This is mirrored in the alto with a descending chromatic line through the first phrase. Along the way, the alto's C-flat turns the harmony from major to minor mode just before the first cadence.
[The following musical excerpts are provided for analysis and criticism under the terms of fair use for educational purposes.]
The narrow and constricted nature of the melody is amplified by moving from open to close harmony by the end of each of the first three phrases. In the final phrase of the first half, the harmony remains close, and the alto's previous chromatic descent is reflected in the bass line.Musical gestures such as these--descending chromatic lines, unexpected minor chords, and melodic phrases that seem trapped within a narrow range--convey a sense of sadness and despair, which suits the text in the first half of each stanza. If Stanphill had continued the entire song in this cast, it would have been a pretty dismal project indeed! But the structure of the text turns at this point to the imagined corrective reply from Jesus, and the music follows suit:In a sudden (and gutsy) change of pace, Stanphill kicks the melody up into the upper half of the octave. Where we previously had descending chromatic notes, now they ascend, invigorating the harmony (the F-sharp in the alto before the end of the first phrase, and the A-naturals in the next-to-last measure of the next phrase). The majority of the harmony is written in open position, especially in the second phrase. Stanphill also builds up to the highest note of the melody toward the end of this section. The overall musical effect is as if someone flipped the lights on!The final two phrases of the text of each stanza turn from the perspective of Jesus back to the resulting change of heart in the Christian. The music follows, repeating the 3rd and 4th phrases of the opening half; but after the dramatic contrast of the preceding section, and with the chastened tone of the text, the music now comes across differently. What initially sounded like despair and complaining is reinterpreted as calm resignation. This was exactly the point of the text, of course.
Once again, I am not suggesting the Stanphill sat down and decided to do these things, although they may have crossed his mind during the writing process. Some may have been intuitive choices, or even a fortuitous combination of notes that struck him as appropriate as he composed. I suspect, however, that good songwriters put more thought into these things than is sometimes apparent.
References:
Gohr, Glenn. "This side of heaven: the story of Ira Stanphill and his popular gospel songs." Assemblies of God Heritage volume 14, number 2 (Spring 1994): 5-9, 24-26. http://ifphc.org/pdf/Heritage/1994_02.pdf (PDF download)
Judson, Edward. The Life of Adoniram Judson. New York: A.D.F. Randolph & Co, 1883. https://archive.org/details/lifeofadoniramju00judsiala
Spurgeon, Charles H. The Treasury of David, ? vols. New York, Toronto: Funk & Wagnalls, 1892 (reprint). https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/007114227/
Stanphill, Ira. This Side of Heaven. Fort Worth, Texas: Hymntime Ministries, 1983.
Terry, Lindsay. Stories Behind 50 Southern Gospel Favorites. Volume 1. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Kregel, 2002.
