Yesterday was one of those days when I just could not get rid of my anxiety – not praying, not trying to breathe slowly, nothing. Finally I went to the piano.

Even there the songs just weren’t touching me. I kept half-heartedly playing various hymns hoping against home that one of them would touch the need inside me.

After about fifteen minutes I landed on this song, and there it was. The music, the message, the peace I needed.

Teach me thy way, O Lord; teach me thy way!
Thy guiding grace afford; teach me thy way!
Help me to walk aright, more by faith, less by sight;
Lead me with heav’nly light; teach me thy way!

When I am sad at heart, teach me thy way!
When earthly joys depart, teach me thy way!
In hours of loneliness, in times of dire distress,
In failure or success, teach me thy way!

When doubts and fears arise, teach me thy way!
When storms o’erspread the skies, teach me thy way!
Shine thro’ the cloud and rain, thro’ sorrow, toil, and pain;
Make thou my pathway plain; teach me thy way!

Long as my life shall last, teach me thy way!
Where’er my lot be cast, teach me thy way!
Until the race is run, until the journey’s done,
Until the crown is won, teach me thy way!

~Benjamin Ramsey

Doing some research on Mr. Ramsey I learned that this song was written just a few years before his death at age 74. I found it interesting that at such a late stage of life he was still begging God to teach him. Then I read this…

Ramsey, Lawrence Fairbrother
Rifleman, 5th Battalion, London Rifle Brigade. Born in Bournemouth Hants in the first quarter of 1886. He was the son of Benjamin Mansell Ramsey and Edith Maria nee Fairbrother, the youngest of 6 children – Bernard, Percy, Lilian, Harold and Wilfred. Attested aged 30 on 11 December 1914 an unmarried Poultry Farmer living at White Cottage (later amended to ‘Camacha’) West Wittering. Embarked in France in 1916 where he was wounded in the face and hand by a high explosive shell. He was 10 days in hospital and 3 weeks in a convalescent camp before being sent back to England on account of his nervous disposition. His hair had turned completely white. He was pale and tremulous, suffering from headaches and dizziness. He slept badly and suffered from bad dreams. His memory and concentration were affected and he was discharged on 28 December 1916 as being no longer physically fit enough to continue in the army. In 1918 he is shown living with his brother Wilfred at The Smithy, in Woodcote Village, Surrey, but he died at Camberwell House, Camberwell, London (a mental hospital) on 7 January 1919. (Conservative Woman)

This hymn was written the same year that Mr. Ramsey’s youngest son dies. Now I understand why it spoke to my heart. I can’t imagine the sorrow of losing a child so late in life.

But there is hope, peace, comfort, and an acknowledgement of the future we are waiting for. I hope this song blesses you as much as it has me.