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Stories Behind Women of Extraordinary Faith - Preview of chapter 9
Fanny Crosby: Faith To Exceed Expectations In 1905, the promise inscribed on the Statue of Liberty rang hollow for many. For most new immigrants life was tough, living conditions often horrid and the promise of opportunity as illusive as the gold at the end of the rainbow. It was another blustery late winter’s day in Brooklyn, a tiny, frail, stooped and seemingly forgotten old woman walked down the streets near the rough and tumble Bowery district. Her bonnet, dress and shoes were something a stylish woman of 1840 would have worn, and it was completely out of place on the Big Apple’s crowded streets. If her clothes did not give away the fact she was struggling to get by, her home did. The woman lived in a rooming house with a dozen other families, most of whom could not speak English. Her tiny one-room quarters were barely large enough for a bed and desk. There was no window for ventilation, so it was always dark, damp and dusty. Yet the fragile woman did not care that her residence appeared shoddy, her neighbors spoke scores of different languages or the streets were filled with rowdy kids, shipyard workers, drunks, prostitutes and gamblers. In fact, she seemed to relish her association with these struggling masses.
This poor old woman did not walk the streets
alone, though strangely it was not for security reasons. She took
her strolls with a companion because she was blind. To her the world
was a place of dark, shapeless shadows. But she didn’t fear the
endless void that stretched out before her, in fact she took comfort
in the darkness. Even though she was just a decade and a half short of a century old, this woman’s stride indicated she was on a mission. Today she was headed to one of her favorite places, a local prison. And though none of the men living behind iron bars were any relation to her, she considered them to be a part of her family. When everyone else had written them off, this woman took the time to show them their own potential and to assure each of these brothers that God loved them and that forgiveness was just a prayer away. As she continued along streets crowded with streetcars, automobiles and horse drawn carts, no one could have guessed she had addressed Congress on three different occasions; once when she was just a teen. Who would have believed this old bent woman had penned a bestselling book while still in her twenties and composed over 8,000 songs. And who could have known, as she made her way merrily along the Brooklyn sidewalks, that churches all over the world were about to set aside an entire Sunday to honor the blind woman’s contributions to the Christian faith? But that is exactly what was going to happen on March 26, 1905. Congregations all over America, Europe, Asia and Africa were going to fill the air with the songs of the woman called “The Methodist Saint.” So how did the world’s greatest gospel music composer, a woman whose hymns are still sung by hundreds of millions, end up residing among some of the world greatest sinners? It was a matter of prayer, faith, hard work and dramatic mid-life change of direction, and it would never have been possible without the input of four very different, but very special people. Fanny Crosby is probably the most unlikely of all American success stories. Born in 1820 in rural New York State, she started with two huge strikes against her. At the age of six weeks an inept doctor improperly treated an eye infection causing blindness. A few months later, Crosby’s father, the family’s breadwinner, suddenly died. What was before twenty-one year old Mercy Crosby seemed a task too large for any woman, but on faith she pushed ahead. Hiring out as a maid, she toiled long hours to make barely enough to keep a roof over her girl’s head. The blind child, Frances Jane, should have been pushed aside, forgotten, tended to but not taught, that is the way it usually was during that period. Handicapped people were shunned or ignored, kept out of site, often viewed as being a punishment from God. Yet Fanny had been blessed. Her grandmother, Eunice, refused to view the child as anything but a gift and was determined that the tiny girl would be given every opportunity to grow, to explore and to secure the tools to succeed. So rather than keep Fanny shut up inside the family’s small home, Eunice opened the door and let the child explore the world. She allowed her to fall down, then urged her to get back up. She gave a sense of worth by praising her for accomplishing even the most menial of tasks. Most importantly, Eunice taught her to see by touching and listening. Thus the child developed keen senses few others could begin to fathom. And, even though it was unheard of during the period, Eunice had Fanny mainstreamed in school. Though her teachers in the multi-grade, one-room schoolhouses had no time for individual instruction, they could not help but note the way Fanny soaked in all they taught. She was like a sponge, remembering every detail of a lesson and she was able to recite almost verbatim lessons in rhetoric and literature. In her third year of school, Fanny discovered poetry. The way the lines flowed awakened the child’s mind to a beauty others were unable to see. To her these words were alive and took Fanny to places others could not imagine. Her fascination with rhythm and rhyme became almost a compulsion. For hours the eight-year-old would play with words, reshaping them into patterns that gave her life substance and depth. In a world where most were unsure as to how to deal with the blind child, poetry became her vehicle of understanding.
Oh, what a happy child I am, although I cannot
see! Pooling their money, the Crosby family’s friends sent Mercy and her daughter to New York to meet with the world’s foremost eye specialist, Dr. Valentine Mott. Mott examined the girl and shook his head. Sadness filled his voice as he whispered to Fanny, “Poor child, I am afraid you will never see again.” The physician was amazed by the tiny girl’s response. She didn’t cry, rather as she heard the news a smile crept across her face. She assured Mott and her mother that she was fine, that no one should pity her and though her eyes could not perceive as others, she could still see with her heart. More determined than ever that her granddaughter’s intellectual curiosity was fully challenged, Eunice began to read the works of two blind poets, Homer and Milton. Being able to hear the words of those who suffered as she did inspired Fanny to compose more verses. Thanks again to her grandmother, she was able to share her poems at church and community gatherings. While many marveled at her God-given abilities, most believed Fanny’s remarkable talents were really wasted on someone who could not see. Though still going to school, Fanny soon began to realize she was falling behind her classmates. Not being able to read or write was stunting her intellectual growth and leaving her thirsting for the knowledge she could not access because she could not see. Eunice sensed the frustration building within her granddaughter and redoubled her efforts to expose her to the world. They went for walks in the woods where the older woman would have Fanny hold a leaf, and she would describe it in detail. She repeated this hands on experience with everything from rocks to animals, from streams to trees. Whatever the two came across, Eunice would literally paint exhaustingly detailed verbal pictures of each new experience. Yet the grandmother soon sensed it was not enough. More and more her lack of sight was shutting her off from the world. Fanny was able to do fewer and fewer things at school. The games her friends were playing could no longer be adapted to meet her special needs. In a world that for most children seemed to be expanding daily, Fanny felt the walls closing in on her. Wise beyond her years, her mind saw that all the wonder of life was forever going to be just out of reach. While she had learned a great deal more than most blind children of the period, she now fully realized she would never be able to read, write or live independently. She had hit a wall and there was no way over it and no path around it. One summer evening, while the two sat in a rocking chair, eleven-year-old Fanny asked Eunice a troubling question, “Does God hear my prayers?” “Yes,” came the woman’s immediate reply. Falling to her knees, Eunice at her side, the normally longwinded Fanny put forth a very simple petition, “Dear Lord, please show me how I can learn like other children.” It was a prayer she would repeat over and over again for the next three years. It was with tears in her eyes that Eunice Crosby put her granddaughter to bed that night. The child’s prayer had broken her heart. The steady, sure Calvinist woman wanted to believe that God had a purpose for her sightless granddaughter. But now, as she considered how confining Fanny’s world would always be, even Eunice was at a loss to see what that purpose could be. A few months later, Eunice suddenly grew ill. She was just fifty-three, but hard work and disease had left her old beyond her years. Eunice’s voice, once steady and expressive, was now weak and unsure. As she sensed the end was coming, Eunice called out for her granddaughter. Mercy brought the little girl to her grandmother’s bedside. In a soft voice the old woman turned toward the child, resting her hand on the girl’s face and made what seemed to those gathered around the bed a very unusual request. “Fanny, tell me, will you meet your grandma in our father’s house on high?” Fanny swallowed deeply, choking back tears and replied, “By the grace of God I will.” Eunice wrapped her arms around her granddaughter, hugged her a final time, and then eased back into the bed. Within hours she was gone. Her grandmother had been Fanny’s teacher, her strongest supporter and her best friend, as well as her eyes. Without Eunice, Fanny’s world immediately shrank. Other local women, including the family’s landlord, stepped up and tried to fill the gap created when Eunice died, but they could not. Even when her mother remarried and two sisters were added to her life, Fanny still felt shut off from much of the real world. There were places she could go, friends she could visit, household chores she could do, but there was now no one to paint vivid pictures of all the things she could not see. On an early November day, Fanny opted to visit the local school and listen to the other children do their lessons. As she returned home, her keen hearing noted her mother’s footsteps rushing up to meet her. She also heard the rustling of paper. As Fanny would later explain, “I thought it was a letter and someone must be sick or have died.” Yet this time her instincts were wrong. Mercy had been sent news of a school for the blind in New York City. After she had explained to her daughter what this might mean, Fanny shouted out, “O, thank God, He has answered my prayer, just as I knew He would.” The Institution for the Blind offered Fanny a chance to grow as she never had. She was taught to read with her fingers, to write, to listen carefully to teachers and was challenged to think. And, when she revealed her talents in composing poetry, Fanny was pushed to expand her knowledge by listening to the work of revered masters, such as Milton, and then translate what she learned into her own words. The Institution for the Blind was an early beacon of education in America. What was taking place behind the walls on Ninth Street was so revolutionary that some of the nations’ most respected men and women often stopped by the school and observed the students. The great statesman, William Cullen Bryant visited and after hearing Fanny recite some of her poetry, told the teenager how impressed he was. Encouraged, Fanny continued to create, and as her work improved, the school allowed her to compose special poems for each of the school’s guests. Fanny soon came to know John Quincy Adams, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison, John Tyler and James Polk. Few Americans of the period had ever met even one president, but by the time she was eighteen, the small blind girl counted all the living former first executives, as well as the current national leader, as her mentors and friends. In fact, these great men were so moved by her poetry they asked her to address Congress in hopes she would inspire more funding for schools for the blind all across America. By the time she was twenty, Fanny’s fame grew to the point where her poems became a regular feature in several New York City newspapers and periods. Her hundreds of published works embraced a myriad of subjects including history, politics, personalities, love and nature. She was so intent on her writing becoming a path to fame and fortune. In 1844, with the national release of her book, “The Blind Girl and Other Poems,” Fanny took a huge step to achieving her goal. She followed that success by joining with famed bandleader George Root and composing the first cantata published in America. She now had a start on a solid career; her name was known throughout New England, but this fame was not making enough money for Fanny to leave the Institute. Hence, Fanny became an instructor at the school. She would hold that position for the next thirteen years. One of the other teachers, a devout Christian man she only knew as Mr. Jones, was deeply impressed with her work, but equally concerned with her attitude. He saw no spiritual depth in anything Fanny produced. After watching her bask in the glory of adoration freely given by another round of important guests, he approached Fanny and gave her a stern warning, “Remember that whatever talent you possess belongs wholly to God and that you ought to give Him the credit for all you do.” It would be many years before the teacher’s words took root, but nevertheless a seed had been planted. And when Fanny was faced with the greatest tragedy of her life, she could recall what Jones said. In 1851, a cholera epidemic swept New York City. People who experienced the wave of illness claimed death could be smelled in every corner of the city. Certainly Fanny could sense the uncertainty that hovered around her. And as she heard the horror stories of those who had suddenly grown sick and died, for the first time she considered her own mortality. The constant news of death caused her to relive Eunice Crosby’s death and the promise she had made her grandmother. Now Fanny wondered if she truly was a Christian. This haunting question drove her from her room at the Institute and into the streets. Her trip ended at John Street Methodist Church where a revival was in progress. For three nights she attended the services, going forward at every altar call, but she felt no change. On the third night, as the choir began to sing an old Issac Watts’ hymn, her despair began to lift. When the singers reached the third line of the fifth stanza of “Alas Did My Savior Bleed,” the blind woman stood up and shouted, “Here, Lord, I give myself away!” It was as if she could finally see! For those who know Crosby’s work, it would naturally seem this conversion experience would have immediately plunged her into composing Christian prose. It did not. Over the next few years many of her poems were published, in individual and book form, and all of them remained secular in nature. While convinced she was saved, Fanny remained intent using her talents to achieve secular fame and fortune. In fact, she was still so unsure of her faith she would not even pray in public. On March 5, 1858, at the age of thirty-seven, Fanny married a former student and teacher at the Institute, Alexander VanAlstyne. Not long after she married, Fanny discovered she was pregnant. She could not wait to bring a new life into the world. Each night she prayed her child would be given the gift of sight, along with Fanny’s own uniquely developed sense of observation. Yet soon after her child was born, it died. Fanny was crushed. The only way she could deal with the loss was to pick up her pen and put her emotions onto paper. What resulted was the first hymn she would ever write, “Safe in the Arms of Jesus.”
Jesus, my heart’s dear Refuge, Stryker convinced Fanny to meet with one of his close friends, William Bradbury. Bradbury, a well-known Christian composer and publisher, was looking for a poet to supply his firm with dynamic Christian verse. The publisher was tired of stilted and formal prose. He wanted to present personal words that could touch hearts and reach the souls. After one meeting with the tiny woman, Bradbury realized Fanny’s gift was the answer to his prayers. Beginning at the age of forty-four, Fanny would pen three to five new gospel songs a week. The more she wrote, the more consumed she was with a zeal to live each word, each verse and each chorus. By the time she was fifty, she was America’s most popular gospel music writer. The evangelistic team of Dwight L. Moody and Ira D. Sankey took Fanny’s songs to every corner of the world. As one reporter noted, “Johann Strauss reigned in Vienna as the ‘Waltz King,’ and John Phillip Sousa in Washington as the ‘March King,’ but Fanny Crosby reigned all over the world as the ‘Hymn Queen.’” At an age when most women were seeking out a quiet life, Fanny, who once would not pray in front of others, was speaking at America’s largest churches, traveling to every corner of America, spreading the story of her faith, while she also provided inspiration to all who suffered from handicaps. Hundreds like Helen Keller seized upon this tiny woman as a role model, and many of her legion of fans broke down barriers in education, industry and society. By the time Fanny Crosby Day was celebrated in March of 1905, the songwriter was eighty-five years old and had penned more than 7,000 hymns. The prayers of her youth had been answered as she now had great fame and the opportunity for a small fortune. Yet she turned her back on the latter. Spending only the barest amount on herself, the tiny woman gave the rest away to those she considered “the least of these.” She continued to walk the slum streets because she felt that is where the Lord’s word needed to be heard and a Christian example of love needed to be felt.
“It seemed intended by the blessed providence
of God,” she would tell each audience, “that I should be blind all
my life, and I thank him for the dispensation. If perfect earthly
sight were offered me tomorrow I would not accept it. I might not
have sung hymns to the praise of God if I had been distracted by the
beautiful and interesting things about me. If I had a choice, I
would still choose to remain blind... for when I die, the first face
I will ever see will be the face of my blessed Savior.” It has been said that Fanny Crosby’s songs have led more people to salvation than all the sermons of the greatest preachers and evangelists. Yet without a grandmother who would not allow the girl’s potential to be lost, a teacher who constantly reminded Fanny her talents were on loan from God, a preacher who sensed her gifts could bring God’s mission into great focus, and a famous hymn composer who gave her an opportunity to present her vision of the Lord to the world, no one would now remember the little blind girl from upstate New York or have ever been inspired by “Blessed Assurance,” “All the Way My Savior Leads Me,” “To God Be the Glory,” “Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior,” “Safe in the Arms of Jesus,” “Rescue the Perishing,” “Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross,” “I Am Thine, O Lord,” “Redeemed,” and so many more incredible gospel classics. |
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Ace
Collins once again shares his gift of storytelling in these stories
of twenty women whose faith will move you profoundly. As you are
drawn into each tale, you’ll discover how amazing answers to prayer,
surprising twists and turns, and hidden gems in these stories
illuminate the transforming power of Christ.