In March of 1863, running short of soldiers, Congress, for the first time, passed a law that initiated proscribed service. In Lower Manhattan, violent disturbances—a war within a war—were carried out mainly by the Irish working-class community in opposition to the law. They confronted police, soldiers, and pro-war politicians. During these Draft Riots (just one of the titles this period of unrest is known by), homes of various abolitionists and free African-Americans were looted and destroyed, as were many public buildings, two Protestant churches, and an orphanage for African-American children which was burned to the ground. However, by the summer of 1864, the city had allied itself with the Union cause, and things settled down, though anxiety still ran high.
The Civil War was tearing the country apart. Lush fields were littered with the bodies of dead boys from both sides of the conflict their blood watering the grass with sorrow and loss. Families waited anxiously for news about their loved ones.
That summer was oppressively hot and humid. The fabrics used to make clothing during the Victorian Era were heavy. Air conditioning was still a thing of the future. Crowded city apartments were stifling. And just when the people thought it couldn’t get any worse—it did. Fever swept through the city, confining hundreds to their stifling hot apartments. Anxiety was high, and misery was relentless.
Robert Lowry was the pastor of the Hanson Place Baptist Church. His parishioners were not immune to this anxiety and suffering, and he wanted to find a way to raise their spirits despite the hardships that surrounded them.
After a long and exhausting day of visiting the sick and dying, Pastor Lowry meditated upon Revelation 22:1:
“And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb.”
Pastor Lowry found the promise in the verse: a reunion with loved ones, at last laying down our earthly burdens and joining in a melody of peace. He sat down at his organ, wrote the lyrics, and composed the tune with the reassuring chorus, “Yes, we’ll gather at the river … .”
Imagine that beautiful river flowing from God’s throne, the saints gathered on its shores, bowing in gratitude and praise to the Lamb, singing together of redemption and everlasting love, a love that would not let us go.
Sources: askherabouthymn.com/what-comforting-old-hymn-was-written-during-a-summer-of-misery-in-brooklyn; Wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_City_draft_riots
Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy golden day.
Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown.
Soon we’ll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace.
Yes, we’ll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river;
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.