No.6 Highlighting the saints - William Williams

William Williams, Pantycelyn (also known as Williams Pantycelyn and Pantycelyn) (1717 – 11 January 1791) is generally acknowledged as Wales's most important hymn writer. He was also one of the key leaders of the 18th century Welsh Methodist revival, along with Daniel Rowland and Howell Harris. As a poet and prose writer he is today considered to be one of Wales's greatest writers.

Williams was born in the parish of Llanfair-ar-y-bryn, Carmarthenshire, early in 1717. His family were nonconformists. He was educated locally and intended to become a doctor. This changed when he had a religious conversion while listening to Howell Harris, the evangelical reformer, preaching in Talgarth in 1737.

He took deacon's orders in the Church of England in 1740 and was appointed curate to Theophilus Evans (1693–1767) in the parishes of Llanwrtyd, Llanfihangel Abergwesyn and Llanddewi Abergwesyn. Because of his Methodist activities he was refused ordination as a priest and from then on he committed himself entirely to that movement. He travelled throughout the country preaching and establishing seiadau, local fellowships of Methodist people, for the converts he won. He died in 1791 and is buried in the churchyard at Llanfair-ar-y-bryn.

In common with many other Welsh people whose names are less than unique, he was known by the nickname or bardic name of Pantycelyn, this being the name of the farm in the parish of Llanfair-ar-y-bryn where he lived for most of his life.

His virtuosity as a hymnwriter also earned him another nickname Y pêr ganiedydd (The sweet singer).

Here is a selection of some of his wonderful poetry:


Hasten, Israel! from the desert
After tarrying there so long,
Milk and honey, wine and welcome
Wait you 'mong the ransom'd throng;
Wear your arms, advance to warfare,
Onward go, and bravely fight,
Fair the land, and there shall lead you
Cloud by day and flame by night.

Babel's waters are so bitter,
There is nought but weeping still,
Zion's harps, so sweet and tuneful,
Do my heart with rapture fill:
Bring thou us a joyful gathering
From the dread captivity,
And until on Zion's mountain
Let there be no rest for me.

In this land I am a stranger,
Yonder is my native home,
Far beyond the stormy billows,
Where the flowers of Canaan bloom:
Tempests wild from sore temptation
Did my vessel long detain,
Speed, ye gentle southern breezes,
Aid me soon to cross the main.

* * * * *
Fix, O Lord, a tent in Goshen,
Thither come and there abide,
Bow thyself from light celestial,
And with sinful man reside.
Dwell in Zion, there continue,
Where the holy tribes ascend;
Do not e'er desert thy people,
Till the world in flames shall end.

I am through the lone night waiting,
For the dawning of the day;
When my prison door is opened,
When my fetters fall away;
O come quickly,
Happy day of jubilee.

Let me still be meekly wakeful,
Trusting that to all my woes,
By thy mighty hand, Redeemer,
Shall be given a speedy close;
Keep me watching,
For the joyful jubilee.

* * * * *

Kingdoms wide, that sit in darkness,
Grant them, Lord, the saving light;
And from eastern coast to western,
May the morning chase the night;
Pouring radiance,
As if one day sevenfold bright.

Blessed Saviour, spread thy gospel,
Ride and conquer, never cease;
May thy wide, thy vast dominions,
Multiply and still increase;
Sway thy sceptre,
Saviour, all the world around.

* * * * *

O'er the earth, in every nation,
Reign, Jehovah, in each place;
Take all kingdoms in possession,
Heathen darkness thence displace;
Fill each people,
Sun of Righteousness, with grace.

Oh! ye heralds of salvation,
Jesus' mercy far proclaim;
Bear, ye seas, the sacred mission,
Till the pagan bless his name;
Let the gospel
Fly on wings of heavenly flame.

Let all those in deserts dwelling,
All on hills--in dales around,
Those who live 'midst oceans swelling,
Jesus' glorious praises sound;
Till the echo
Of his name the world surround.

* * * * *

Ride in triumph, holy Saviour,
Go and conquer o'er the land;
Earth and hell, with all their forces,
Now before thee cannot stand;
At the radiance of thy glory,
Every foe must flee away;
All creation thrills with terror
Under thine eternal sway.

Aid me, Lord, always to tarry
In my Father's courts below;
Live in light divine and glorious,
Without darkness, without woe;
Live without the sun's departure,
Live without a cloud or pain;
Live on Jesus' love unconquer'd,
Who on Calvary was slain.

Let me view the great atonement,
And the kingdom that is mine,
Which thy blood hath purchased for me,
Sealed also as divine;
Let me daily strive to find it,
Let this be my chief employ;
On my way I ask no favour
But thy presence to enjoy.

* * * * *

Great Redeemer, Friend of sinners,
Thou hast glorious power to save,
Grant me light and still conduct me
Over each tempestuous wave;
May my soul with sacred transport
View the dawn while yet afar,
And until the sun arises,
Lead me by the morning star.

* * * * *

O what madness, O what folly,
That my thoughts should go astray,
After toys and empty pleasures,
Pleasures only for a day;
This vain world with all its treasures,
Very soon will be no more,
There's no object worth admiring,
But the God whom I adore.

* * * * *

I look beyond the distant hills,
My Saviour dear to see;
O come, Beloved, ere the dusk,
My sun doth set on me.

Methinks that were my feet released
From these afflicting chains,
I would but sing of Calvary,
Nor think of all my pains.

I long for thy divine abode,
Where sinless myriads dwell,
Who ceaseless sing thy boundless love,
And all thy glories tell.

* * * * *

My soul's delight I will proclaim,
O! Jesus 'tis thy face;
Each letter of thy holy name,
Is full of life and grace.

Beneath thy wing, thou Saviour meek,
I would for ever be;
No other pleasure vainly seek,
My God, than loving thee.

Thy strength alone supports each day
My footsteps, lest I fall;
And thy salvation is my stay,
My joy, my song, my all.

Than combs of honey sweeter is
Thy favour to enjoy;
In life, in death, no joy than this
Will last without alloy.

* * * * *

Angelic throngs unnumbered,
As dawn's bright drops of dew,
Present their crowns before Him
With praises ever new;
But saints and angels blending
Their songs above the sun,
Can ne'er express the glories
Of God with man made one.

* * * * *

Direct unto my God,
With speed, my cry ascend;
Present to Him this urgent plea:--
"In mercy, Lord, attend!
Fulfil thy gracious word,
To bring me to thy rest;
In Salem soon my place prepare,
And make me ever blest!"

Down in a vale of tears,
Where dwelt my Christ I mourn,
And in the conflict with my foes,
My tender heart is torn;
O heal each bleeding wound,
With thy life-giving tree;
In Salem, Lord, above the strife,
A place prepare for me!"