9 Hymns For Christians Who Struggle With Depression

Out of the Depths I Cry to Thee

A hymn of confession and repentance, and possibly the best example of lament in the history of congregational song, we are blessed to be stewards of this Lutheran gem. From Glory to God:

In many times and places, human despair has been described as an experience like being in a deep pit or drowning under much water. That is where this paraphrase of Psalm 130 begins.

Out of the depths I cry to Thee;
Lord, hear me, I implore Thee!
Bend down Thy gracious ear to me,
My prayer let come before Thee!
If Thou remember each misdeed,
If each should have its rightful meed,
Who may abide Thy presence?

Our pardon is Thy gift; Thy love
And grace alone avail us.
Our works could ne’er our guilt remove,
The strictest life would fail us.
That none may boast himself of aught,
But own in fear Thy grace hath wrought
What in him seemeth righteous.

And thus, my hope is in the Lord,
And not in mine own merit;
I rest upon His faithful word
To them of contrite spirit.
That He is merciful and just,–
This is my comfort and my trust,
His help I wait with patience.

And though it tarry till the night
And round till morning waken,
My heart shall ne’er mistrust Thy might,
Nor count itself forsaken.
Do thus, O ye of Israel’s seed,
Ye of the Spirit born indeed,
Wait for your God’s appearing.

Though great our sins and sore our woes,
His grace much more aboundeth;
His helping love no limit knows,
Our utmost need it soundeth;
Our kind and faithful Shepherd He,
Who shall at last set Israel free
From all their sin and sorrow.

Jesus, Lover of My Soul

Folks, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, ABERYSTWYTH is one of the greatest hymn tunes we have.

But seriously, sung to ABERYSTWYTH or MARTYN or JOHN JACOB JINGLEHEIMER SCHMIDT, there is nothing like singing “thou of life the fountain art / freely let me take of thee / Spring thou up within my heart / Rise to all eternity” when your spirit is failing.

Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high:
Hide me, O my Savior, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;
O receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none;
Hangs my helpless soul on thee;
Leave, O leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me:
All my trust on thee is stayed,
All my help from thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head
With the shadow of thy wing.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
More than all in thee I find;
Rise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick and lead the blind:
Just and holy is thy name,
I am all unrighteousness;
False and full of sin I am,
Thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with thee is found,
Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound;
Make and keep my pure within:
Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely let me take of thee;
Spring thou up within my heart,
Rise to all eternity.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t47CxHXtRMc

There Is a Fountain

Another gem from William Cowper. This is one of those hymns that has fallen out of favor in recent years because of its so-called “blood and guts” theology, an issue exacerbated by sadomasochistic neo-calvinists and their creedal acceptance of the most violent aspect of ransom theology. It doesn’t help that the graphic imagery coupled with CLEANSING FOUNTAIN by exuberant, arm-waving, free-church song leaders sounds glib, almost devilishly delightful.

But on the other hand, without the shedding of blood we’re all screwed, regardless of our particular theological bent, and nowhere in this hymn do we get the impression that God killed Jesus, a necessary element in penal substitution. So, in or out of favor, this hymn will be sung at my funeral, if only because nobody likes to argue with a corpse. And the organist will have explicit instructions to play this early American hymn tune with strength, sobriety, and dignity. Though in the midst of depression my words are feeble and few, redeeming love shall be my everlasting theme, in this life, and the life to come.

There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains:
Lose all their guilty stains,
Lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away:
Wash all my sins away,
Wash all my sins away;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow’r,
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved, to sin no more:
Be saved, to sin no more,
Be saved, to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved to sin no more.

E’er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die:
And shall be till I die,
And shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

When this poor lisping, stamm’ring tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save:
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save,
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save;
then in a nobler, sweeter song
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save.