Lyrics
Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast;
There by His love o'ershaded,
Sweetly my soul shall rest.
Hark! 'tis the voice of angels
Borne in a song to me,
Over the fields of glory,
Over the jasper sea.
Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast;
There by His love o'ershaded,
Sweetly my soul shall rest.
Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe from corroding care,
Safe from the world's temptations;
Sin cannot harm me there.
Free from the blight of sorrow,
Free from my doubts and fears;
Only a few more trials,
Only a few more tears!
Jesus, my heart's dear Refuge,
Jesus has died for me;
Firm on the Rock of Ages
Ever my trust shall be.
Here let me wait with patience,
Wait till the night is o'er;
Wait till I see the morning
Break on the golden shore.
Public domain hymn text and tune (published 1868), based on Deuteronomy 33:27.
The Story Behind the Hymn
"Safe in the Arms of Jesus" came together in a matter of minutes on April 30, 1868. The composer William Howard Doane arrived at Fanny Crosby's door and told her plainly that he had exactly forty minutes before his train left for Cincinnati, and asked whether she could write words to a melody he had just composed. He played the tune for her once.
Crosby later said the music itself suggested its own words: "Your music says, 'Safe in the arms of Jesus.'" She added that the phrase seemed especially fitting for the children who would soon be gathering at an upcoming Sunday School convention. She went to her desk and, in under twenty minutes, had the text finished — leaving Doane time to catch his train with a completed hymn in hand.
Few of Crosby's more than eight thousand hymns matched this one for reach. It became a fixture at funerals, especially children's funerals, where its imagery of rest and shelter offered a register of comfort other hymns did not attempt, and it was sung just as often as a lullaby for the living. Its most historically notable use came on August 8, 1885, when the hymn was played at the funeral of former U.S. President Ulysses S. Grant.
What began as an exercise in speed — a composer catching a train, a poet working against a forty-minute clock — became one of the nineteenth century's most enduring hymns of comfort, sung at gravesides and cradles alike for the century and a half since.
