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Hymn writers throughout history have always been inspired by the cultural, social, theological, and political issues of their day. The notion that a hymn is created out of some celestial ether untouched by human reality does not hold up under scrutiny. Hymn writing and singing are incarnational acts that, at their best, are attempts to join the heavenly voices that are always singing in anticipation of our arrival (Rev. 5:8–14) with our own voices in the midst of our current struggles. No matter how small the earthly gathering or, as in these days, how dispersed, there is hope that we are in perpetual antiphonal dialogue with our celestial choral counterparts.  

We also are in dialogue with the saints who have gone before us—those who have borne witness to the faith in all times and places. Thus, looking at some examples of how our forebears sang in the face of earlier pandemics could be both enlightening and encouraging.  

A literary complement might be to (re)read The Plague (1947) by the French Algerian philosopher Albert Camus. Though one may have a distinct feeling of déjà vu as the process described in the novel unfolds, history does not exactly repeat itself. I find The Plague enlightening and amazingly descriptive of our current reality, but I still have to do some “translation” for today. Though the city of Oran was quarantined, the plague continued to run its course within the city. An overflow crowd congregated in the church to hear the priest’s sermons, and people gathered at bars and restaurants. The scientific knowledge of that day did not appreciate the concept of social distancing, at least not in the same way we are coming to understand it today. 

As you read through the hymns provided, you might also need to do some translation. “Pandemic,” while a reality in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, was not a word. Unlike Christians of earlier generations, most churchgoers today have (for very good reasons) suspended gathering as congregations. In hymns written in those times, “plague” is the key word. “Disease” might refer to an actual personal illness, but it seems to primarily describe a personal spiritual condition. “Plague” was used in this more personal sense too, but it often had a more universal usage as well. It is the latter that is of interest here.  

There are some examples where the use of “plague” in a hymn can be matched to a specific historical situation (Exs. 1., 7., 8.), but more often than not the hymnwriter seemed to be responding to a persistent, chronic condition of society. Without the aid of modern medical research, even a cursory historical examination of plagues throughout history reveals that these pandemics were lengthy, devastating, and recurrent (See Exs. 3., 4., 9., and 10.). HIV/AIDS, SARS, and probably our current COVID-19 pandemics are more manageable. In that sense, we may find hope in that our current COVID-19 pandemic, while extremely lamentable, may not last as long or result in a proportional loss of life as in previous centuries. 

Another hazard of reading these hymns is a broad theological assumption prevalent then and (regrettably) to some degree now that pandemics are God’s punishment for a sinful humanity  when instead God walks with us through the “valley of the shadow of death” (Ps. 23:4). I eliminated many hymns that held this punishment perspective because I do not find this to be a redeeming or hopeful theological response to a suffering world. This perspective still echoes throughout some of these hymns (See especially 7., a hymn by Charles Wesley). On the other hand, several hymns, especially those based in the psalter, demonstrate our desire to find existential meaning in scripture (See examples 4., 5., and 6., by Isaac Watts, and 10., by John Ryland). This is a spiritual practice that continues to be meaningful. 

Then there are the totally inexplicable hymns, such as Martin Rinckhart’s “Now Thank We All Our God,” (Ex. 2.) which, while composed in the midst of the deadly Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648), contains one of the most exuberant doxological messages in hymnic history. This hymn is a reaffirmation of our faith in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. 

So examine these texts (you could even locate a familiar tune to sing the words) and find meaning in the promise that the God of those days is also the God of these days. Sing in prayer for and solidarity with those who suffer today—from physical suffering and death as a result of COVID-19, from the social loss of relationships and loneliness, and from the economic devastation that has already begun and is likely to continue for some time. Sing in gratitude for dedicated medical workers, the advanced scientific knowledge that is available to us, and the countless random acts of neighborly love that we hear about each day. Above all, sing in the hope of the resurrection. 

In Grief and Fear to Thee, O Lord

William Bullock (1798–1874), Songs of the Church (Halifax, Nova Scotia, 1854). For background, visit .  

Now Thank We All Our God (Nun danket alle Gott)

Martin Rinckhart (1586–1649), tr. Catherine Winkworth (1827–1878). Published in Johann Crüger, Praxis Pietaties Melica (1647) and probably in Rinckhart’s Jesu Hertz-Büchlein (1636); tr. in Winkworth’s Lyra Germanica II (1858). 

Popularly called the “German Te Deum,” this hymn may have originated as a domestic hymn for table grace. Rather than being based on the fourth-century Te Deum, Rinckhart based first two stanzas on Martin Luther’s translation of Ecclesiasticus (Sirach) 50:22–24: “Now therefore bless ye the God of all, which only doeth wondrous things every where, which exalteth our days from the womb, and dealeth with us according to his mercy. He grants us joyfulness of heart, and that peace may be in our days in Israel for ever: That he would confirm his mercy with us, and deliver us at his time!” (KJV). It was written during plague and famine that accompanied the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648) in central Europe, including Eilenburg, Saxony, where Rinckhart was ministering under the most dire of conditions. The second half of stanza two may be an oblique reference to this situation. The third stanza is a metrical version of the trinitarian doxology. 

Come to Thy Temple Here on Earth (Zieh ein zu deine Toren)

Paul Gerhardt (1607–1676); tr. 1855 by Catherine Winkworth (1827–1878). Selected stanzas from sixteen original. Written during the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648) and published as a hymn for Whitsuntide (the weeks following Pentecost). ​

When We Are Raised from Deep Distress

Isaac Watts (1674–1748), Hymns and Spiritual Songs (1707). Isaiah 38:9 ff.—Sickness and Recovery 
 
While this hymn appears after the Great Plague of London (1665–66), this plague would have been well in mind during Isaac Watts’s earlier years, and indeed, .&�Բ�����;�²��ٳٲ�’s&�Բ�����;�����ٱ��&�Բ�����;Psalms of David, Imitated (1719) may have been influenced by perpetual disease and plagues (see examples from Psalms 89 and 90 below). It is interesting to note that this hymn  appears in collections in London throughout the nineteenth century, when cholera pandemics were prevalent in various parts of the British Empire, including parts of Asia, Europe, Africa, and North America. In 1854, 23,000 people died from cholera in Great Britain.  

He That Hath Made His Refuge God

Isaac Watts (1674–1748), Psalms of David, Imitated (1719). Psalm 91—Safety in public diseases and dangers  

Remember, Lord, Our Mortal State

Isaac Watts (1674–1748); Psalms of David, Imitated (1719). Psalm 89:47ff. Mortality and Hope—A Funeral Psalm 
 
“Remember how short my time is: wherefore hast thou made all men in vain? What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death? shall he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave?” (Psalm 89:47–48, KJV). Watts’s reference to “whole nations [that] die” seems to extend beyond the scope of a single funeral observance. 

Righteous Lord, Thy People Spare

Charles Wesley (1707–1788), Hymns Occasioned by the Earthquake, March 8, 1750, Part 2 (London: Strahan, 1750). (For background, visit .) 

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Charles Wesley (1707–1788); Hymns for the Year (1756); For the Fast-day, Feb. 6, held as a day of humiliation arising mainly out of a dread invasion by the French (see * below). Describing the Judgment. 

_{*John Julian states that this line “refers in the earthquake to the great earthquake which demolished the city of Lisbon on Nov. 1, 1755; the plague to the terrible mortality among the cattle which had been prevailing in various parts of England; and the sword to the invasion which was feared from France” (Julian, A Dictionary of Hymnology, p. 1086).} 

Sing Hallelujah; Sing

James Montgomery (1771–1854). The exact date of this hymn is not known, but the experience of repeated pandemics in the eighteenth century and controversial quarantine measures in the nineteenth century (see the Quarantine Act of 1825, aimed at stemming yellow fever, cholera, and plague) made sickness a pervasive concern. 

Sovereign Ruler of the Skies

John Ryland (1753–1825), 1777 

Guidance, Peace, and Security in God;  
Psalm 31:15: “My times are in thy hand: deliver me from the hand of mine enemies, and from them that persecute me” (KJV). 
Psalm 34:1: “I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth” (KJV). 

Eighteenth-century England lived in fear of pandemics from continental Europe (1709–1720; 1742–1760; 1768–1886). England was affected most likely by . Ryland’s free paraphrase of portions of Psalm 31 and 34 was written in the middle of the third pandemic wave.