"And Can It Be?"

And can it be that I should gain
An int'rest in the Savior's blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain?
For me who Him to death pursued?
Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

'Tis myst'ry all! th' Immortal dies!
Who can explore His strange design?
In vain the first-born seraph tries
To sound the depths of love divine;
'Tis mercy all, let earth adore:
Let angel minds inquire no more.

He left His Father's throne above,
So free, so infinite His grace.
Emptied Himself of all but love,
And bled for Adam's helpless race.
'Tis mercy all, immense and free,
For O my God, it found out me!

Long my imprisoned spirit lay,
Fast bound in sin and nature's night.
Thine eye diffused a quick'ning ray.
I woke; the dungeon flamed with light!
My chains fell off; my heart was free.
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

No condemnation now I dread;
Jesus, and all in Him, is mine!
Alive in Him, my living Head,
And clothed in righteousness divine,
Bold I approach th' eternal throne
And claim the crown, thro' Christ, my own.

This is one of Charles Wesley's better known and more popular hymns. In modern hymnals, it is generally paired with Thomas Campbell's Sagina, one of the more fortuitous tune-pairings in Wesleyan hymnology. The soaring music is perhaps a tad archaic but at least it captures something of the awe and energy and jubilation of the words. It also helps that this hymn is one of those in which the first line can actually also function as a title. While some title it “Amazing Love” and this is certainly an appropriate title, “And Can It Be?” does aptly capture the entire spirit of the hymn--that spirit being a spirit of wonder and awe at the plan of salvation.

The oddest thing about this hymn is that it begins with a conjunction. One would think that this implies there is a previous, lost verse to which the 'and' connects, but so far as I can tell this is not the case (though I would welcome correction on this point). That conjunction gives a strange, abrupt feeling to the beginning of the song as if the speaker had been silently meditating on God's love when he suddenly broke out into song with this wondering question. And note that the wonder is essentially personal. The wonder is not just that Jesus would die for sinners in general, as strange and thought-provoking as that is. It is the very personal fact that we have “an int'rest in the Savior's blood,” that he died specifically “for me, who caused His pain,” for me who pursued Him to death. The speaker pictures himself as having had an active role in the death of Christ. In so far as we are sinners, we are part of the same cosmic organization which framed, brutalized, and murdered Jesus. And yet, it was such people that Christ died, just as one of his dying words was a prayer of forgiveness for those who had literally killed him. That a man would die for his enemies is certainly an awe-inspiring thing. But that “Thou, my God, shouldst die for me” is something else entirely. This is truly “Amazing love!” In modern English, amazing has become simply a generic word for something very good, but its older sense (which I think is in use here) is of something that causes wonder and almost stupefaction through its strangeness.

The second stanza is dropped from many hymnals and not without reason since, overall, the main point seems to be a rebuke of the curiosity of angels which seems to us impertinent or at least irrelevant. (The idea of the plan of redemption being a wonder to the angels is Scriptural, however. See Ephesians 3:10 and 1 Peter 1:12.) The great takeaway from this stanza is, of course, the phrase “'Tis myst'ry all! th' Immortal dies!” which briefly captures the overwhelming wonder of the central fact of the Christian religion.

The third stanza seems to be based on Philippians 2:5 and following and pictures Christ descending from Heaven and emptying himself in order to bleed “for Adam's helpless race.” While it might not be entirely accurate theology, there is something inescapably moving about this pictures, that Christ: “Emptied Himself of all but love.” It was this love, this amazing love, which prompted Jesus' descent and emptying, the driving purpose that remained when everything else was gone. Fictional characters are often portrayed as pressing on when all physical strength is gone through the strength of some emotional attachment, and, in a fairly literal sense, this seems to be what happened to Christ. When he had given up everything else, when everything else had been taken from him, He went on because of His love for us. But  not just 'us' but 'me.' Once again the personal note jerks us back from mere generalities. The stanza ends with the speaker saying that what makes the mercy of God so amazing, so “immense and free” is not the fact that it exists, not the fact that it has saved some men, but the fact that “it found out me!”

The fourth stanza is the most memorable and is probably largely responsible for the hymn's popularity. The word picture of a prisoner being released by the presence of Christ (almost certainly suggested by Acts 12:7-10) seems simple and straightforward, something that sticks easily in the mind. It isn't until you look closely that you realize that this stanza contains that bewildering complexity which leaves many Wesley hymns in obscurity. Superimposed on the metaphor of the prison, we also have sleep, for “I woke” from “sin and nature's night.” Waking from sleep is used throughout Pauline literature for salvation or awareness of one's spiritual needs. Is it too much to suggest that we also have a reference to being dead in sin as well? For “Thine eye diffused a quick'ning ray” which means a ray which makes alive. And is there a certain significance in the final line: “I rose, went forth, and followed Thee”? Whether it was Wesley's thought here, it was definitely a keynote of Wesleyan theology in general that to be saved was to follow Christ, to leave the dungeon of sin was to start a new path. We might be released from the chains of sin, we might say “my heart was free” but that freedom leads to a certain commitment.

The final stanza contains a rising crescendo of jubilation, an enumeration of our blessings in Christ. The main thought is our freedom from the guilt of sin and our confidence in the judgment. “No condemnation now I dread... Bold I approach th' eternal throne.” We do not need to fear the wrath of God if we have been saved, if we have the life of God living in us, if we are “Alive in Him, my living Head.” Because we have Jesus, we have everything: “Jesus, and all in Him, is mine!” Because Christ is “my own,” I have the power and confidence to claim the crown of victory. Notice, once again, that all the pronouns are first person singular. Though the church as a unit could say most of these things--it would be quite proper to call Christ “our living Head”--Wesley's emphasis here is extremely personal. Though Wesley was not afraid to emphasize the communal aspect of salvation--which he does in several other hymns--here he narrows the focus. The church as a whole can have this experience only because of the personal experience of its individual members. And the individual members can have it only because it is the right of the church as a whole. To each and every one of individually Christ has given this amazing love. Looking at all of this makes the opening conjunction take on a new significance. One can almost picture someone coming to the end of this hymn and seeing the wonderful love which God has bestowed on all of us and each of us individual--and suddenly, with fresh appreciation, bursting out: “And can it be that I should gain/An int'rest in the Savior's blood?”