One of the most precious doctrines of the Christian faith is that of atonement. Some of us will remember learning as children in Sunday School the simple definition that comes from dividing the syllables of the word to spell “at-one-ment.” Our sins have separated us from God, placing us under His wrath and curse, and making us His enemies. But by His sacrificial death for us on the cross, Jesus has taken that curse on Himself and removed the barrier between us and the Father. Apart from His work, we would have been permanently barred from God’s presence and favor, but now by His atonement we are permanently and graciously “at one” with Him.
This is not a doctrine unique to the New Testament. It has its origins in the earliest chapters of the Bible where Adam and Eve’s sin cut them off from God’s presence, resulting in their being driven from the Garden of Eden. But God’s grace was evident from the very beginning of human history as God Himself provided a substitute as He took the life of an animal, shedding its blood, to make atonement for them, a covering for them in their physical nakedness, symbolizing His providing a covering for their spiritual nakedness.
And in an even more dramatic way, God enshrined this principle in the Mosaic sacrificial and ceremonial system with the provisions for observing the annual Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement (literally the day of covering) for the people of Israel, described in Leviticus 16. The two major sacrifices on that day taught His people about the parallel dimensions of expiation and propitiation. The sins of the people were understood to be transferred to these substitutes. In the first, what we remember as the “scapegoat” was led far out into the wilderness where it could never return. This taught them that their sins were removed “as far as the east is from the west” (Psalm 103:12), never to be remembered against them (Hebrews 8:12). This was the expiation side of atonement. In the second, with their sins once again transferred to the animal substitute, its blood was shed as it was killed, thus demonstrating that God’s justice was satisfied. This was the propitiation side of atonement.
Every pastor knows of many resources when it comes to study the doctrine of the atonement. Quite a few of these are “classics” that have been around for many years. One is the well-known 1983 book by Australian New Testament scholar, Leon Morris, entitled simply “The Atonement; Its Meaning and Significance.” Many have come to love John Stott’s 1986 magnum opus, “The Cross of Christ.” More recent is another very substantial work on the subject, “Pierced for Our Transgressions,” published in 2007 by Crossway, examining especially the penal substitution understanding involved in the atonement. These additions would be great for any pastor to acquire, or perhaps for congregation members to give to their pastor during October’s annual Pastor Appreciation Month.
Two smaller volumes would be more accessible to lay readers. One is the little 2010 paperback from Crossway simply titled, “Atonement.” In eight chapters, the doctrine is considered successively by well-known and trusted theologians J. I. Packer, John R. De Witt, James Montgomery Boice, John Gerstner, R.C. Sproul, Sinclair Ferguson, and Alistair Begg. The second is the paperback “Man of Sorrows; King of Glory,” Jonty Rhodes’ 2021 book also published by Crossway. It is an expository study in ten chapters, examining key phrases in Philip Bliss’s hymn, “Hallelujah! What a Savior,” in which the doctrine of the atonement takes center stage. Because of its gospel song style, both textually and musically, few recognize the rich theology that is communicated in this frequently-sung evangelical hymn.
“Man of Sorrows! What a Name” was written in 1875 by the prolific gospel song writer Phillip Paul (P.P.) Bliss (1838-1876). He wrote both words and music to hundreds of gospel songs, and some of his best-known include these: “Wonderful Words of Life,” “Almost Persuaded,” “The Light of the World Is Jesus,” :Dare to Be a Danile,” and the music for “It Is Well with My Soul.” Bliss was raised in a farm family in central Pennsylvania. He left home as a young boy to make a living by working on farms and in lumber camps, all while trying to continue his schooling. He was converted at a revival meeting at age twelve. Bliss became an itinerant music teacher, making house calls on horseback during the winter, and during the summer attending the Normal Academy of Music in Genesco, New York.
His first song was published in 1864, and in 1868 Dwight L. Moody advised him to become a singing evangelist. For the last two years of his life Bliss traveled with Major D. W. Whittle and led the music at revival meetings in the Midwest and Southern United States. Bliss and Ira D. Sankey published a popular series of hymn collections entitled “Gospel Hymns.” The first book of the series, “Gospel Songs,” was published in 1874. He first learned the rudiments of music at the age of eighteen in a singing school run by J.G. Towner. He later attended a convention headed by the legendary musician William Bradbury and over the next few years actively pursued a musical education.
Eventually his abilities and training as a musician enabled him to become a music teacher in Rome, Pennsylvania. Around that same time he began to be active as a church musician, first in the Presbyterian church in Rome, and then as an itinerant music teacher, and in later years as a staff member at the Chicago publishing firm Root and Cady. The “Festschrift” known as “Memoirs of P.P. Bliss” records that he wrote his first song at the age of twenty six, and his last at the age of thirty eight, which would mean an average output of about twenty songs per year. In his classic 1907 dictionary of hymnology, John Julian said that Bliss was originally a Methodist and later a Congregationalist, but his “Memoirs” tell of a man who claimed no firm denominational allegiance. At various points in his life, both professional and personal, he was associated with Presbyterians, Congregationalists, Seventh-Day Baptists, Disciples of Christ, and others. As with many itinerant music teachers, and many nineteenth-century evangelicals in general, he easily crossed denominational boundaries, sharing his gifts with many churches in the process.
Bliss’s hymn, “Man of Sorrows! What a Name,” had a profound and memorable impact on his ministry. His colleague D.W.Whittle later wrote about how they had used the song in an evangelistic campaign in Kalamazoo, Michigan, in October of 1876:
October 21st, the brethren separated for their different posts near Chicago. Mr. Bliss went to Kalamazoo, Michigan, Mrs. Bliss accompanying him. . . . He sang in the young ladies’ seminary, and at the Baptist College [Kalamazoo College], and in many private residences to the sick and invalid ones. The dear friend there who for seven years or more has been confined to his room, will well remember the sunshiny day when Mr. Bliss came and sang to him the “Ninety and Nine,” “Hallelujah, what a Savior,” and how, in the seasons of prayer and reading the word that followed his visit, he gave his heart to the Lord. In a little while, he will cross the tide, and will know in its fullness the truth, “Hallelujah, what a Savior.”
Bliss wrote to his mother about his experience in Kalamazoo in a letter dated November 3, 1876, just weeks before his tragic death. He enclosed a copy of his hymn.
We have been here two weeks, and about the best two weeks we ever had. Your prayers are being answered, and I am thankful for a mother who prays. . . . Oh! what a privilege to live in these days and to be in any way connected with such a work of grace! . . . How good He is. What grace! What grace! I send you a song, “Hallelujah, what a Savior!” . . . Don’t know how long we’ll stay here, nor where we’ll go next. Anywhere with Jesus.
Two weeks later, November 19, 1876, Bliss sang it for a prison gathering in Jackson, Michigan:
The Michigan State Prison is located at Jackson, and on both Sunday mornings of Mr. Bliss’ stay in the city, he conducted service for the eight hundred inmates there. The most tender, eloquent, and earnest appeal that could have possibly been made to sinners to accept the love of Christ was made by him at his last meeting with these dear men, Sunday morning, November 19th. . . . The Spirit of God was upon Mr. Bliss that morning in that prison, and as he spoke and as he sang, the hearts of those hardened men melted like wax. Defiant faces softened, and grew beautiful with earnest, tender, sympathetic feeling. The animal and sensuous expression predominant in many faces passed away, as they looked upon that earnest face, and saw the tears falling as he plead with them of Christ’s love, and then sang, as if singing for God alone:
Man of Sorrows. What a name For the Son of God, who came
Rebel sinners to reclaim, Hallelujah! What a Savior!Two-thirds of the men there seemed quite broken down by the reality of the things of God. They never will forget the service of that hour.
After leaving Jackson, Mr. and Mrs. Bliss returned to Chicago and had another deeply spiritual experience:
The meeting in Jackson closed November 21st, and Mr. and Mrs. Bliss came to Chicago to attend the Christian Convention called by Mr. Moody. During the session he made an address upon the use of song in worship, and sang at the prayer meeting of ministers in Farwell Hall, presided over by Mr. Moody, on the morning of November 24th. Over a thousand ministers were present, and the intense spiritual feeling prevailing found fit expression through Bliss in song. After he had sung “Are your windows open toward Jerusalem?” his own soul thrilled by the conscious presence of the Holy Spirit, one dear minister cried out, “God bless Mr. Bliss for that song;” and scores of amens came from as many earnest, tender hearts. This was the last time he sang in Chicago. None who were present in Farwell Hall that forenoon will ever forget the power with which he sang. Mr. Moody leaned forward in his chair, occupied with the song and the singer, and overcome by the feeling produced by the music and the sentiment of the hymn.
Philip Bliss’s life was tragically cut short that same winter, when a horrific railway crash in Ashtabula, Ohio, killed both him and his wife. On December 29, 1876, just days after Christmas, the Pacific Express train on which Bliss and his wife were traveling approached Ashtabula, Ohio (east of Cleveland) during a snowy blizzard. When the train was nearly across the bridge, the iron structure collapsed and the eleven carriages fell seventy feet into the ravine below. It was stated in many newspaper accounts of the time that Bliss escaped from the wreck, but the carriages caught fire from the oil lamps and stoves in the carriages, and Bliss returned to try to extricate his wife, still pinned inside the now-burning wreckage. No trace of either Bliss or his wife, Lucy, was ever discovered, since the cremation of remains was so complete. Ninety-two of the 159 passengers are believed to have died, many of them burned alive and then incinerated in what became known as the Ashtabula River Railroad Disaster, the worst train accident of the 19th century. The Blisses were survived by their two sons, George and Philip Paul, then aged four and one, respectively.
A monument to Bliss was erected in Rome, Pennsylvania. Found in his trunk, which somehow survived the crash and fire, was a manuscript bearing the lyrics of the only well-known Bliss Gospel song for which he did not write a tune: “I Will Sing of My Redeemer.” Soon thereafter, set to a tune specially written for it by James McGranahan (1840-1907), it became one of the first songs recorded by Thomas Edison.
The gospel doctrine of the atonement is foundational to Christianity. Without it, Jesus’ death makes no sense; it would just be another case of an innocent man wrongly executed. But this biblical doctrine of the atonement teaches us that Jesus took our place, suffering the punishment due for our sins (death), and has therefore removed the enmity between God and sinners, achieving reconciliation between a holy God and sinful human beings, cancelling the separation between us and God, achieving “at-one-ment,” as our Sunday School teachers explained to us years ago.
And it’s the atonement that is central in this classic gospel song from Philip Bliss. Much of it draws from the classic Suffering Servant passage on the atonement in Isaiah 52:13 – 53:12. As in that passage, so also in this hymn, we are called to stand in wonder that our God would do this for us, giving His only begotten Son to pay the steep price for atonement to be accomplished. Thus Bliss has us sing at the end of each stanza, “Hallelujah, what a Savior!”
Stanza 1 turns our eyes to that Suffering Servant Isaiah described as a “man of sorrows.” Bliss correctly identifies that Servant as none other than the Son of God, the second person of the holy Trinity. In this first stanza, the text speaks in a general overview of the fact that His mission was to reclaim “ruined sinners.” In succeeding stanzas, we sing of how that was accomplished.
Man of sorrows what a name
for the Son of God, who came
ruined sinners to reclaim:
Hallelujah, what a Savior!
Stanza 2 adds to the picture, again with images from Isaiah 52 and 53 of how He received such terrible treatment, “bearing shame and scoffing rude.” But here we have the further definition that relates this to the biblical theme of substitution, something that permeates the Isaiah passage. He deserved no such treatment, but received it as “in my place condemned He stood,” being treated in the way we each deserved. By doing so He “sealed my pardon with His blood,” remembering how on Yom Kippur, sins were “covered” by the blood of the lamb in both expiation and propitiation.
Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
in my place condemned He stood,
sealed my pardon with His blood:
Hallelujah, what a Savior!
Stanza 3 focuses on the contrast between us and our substitute. We were “guilty, vile, and helpless.” He was the pure, “spotless, “Lamb of God.” The theme of atonement through penal substitution continues to be unmistakably clear in this hymn, as we even sing the phrase “full atonement” with an open-mouthed sense of wonder: “Can it be?” As Paul wrote in Ephesians 2, we were dead in our trespasses and sins, not only because of the sin of Adam as our federal head, but also because of the willful disobedience of our own sinful choices. Our only hope was for a substitute to be sacrificed in our place, “to set us free.” (Sadly, some hymnals have removed the word “atonement,” as liberal theology typically rejects the substitutionary view of the atonement, adopting instead the moral influence theory,” that Jesus’ death simply sets an example for us to imitate to be willing to sacrifice for the benefit of others, thus pursuing “a faith LIKE Jesus’ faith instead of faith IN Jesus.)
Guilty, vile, and helpless we;
spotless Lamb of God was He,
Full atonement! can it be?
Hallelujah, what a Savior!
Stanza 4 moves from the sadness of our condition to the victory won by our substitute. With allusions to the Mosaic curse on one who hung on a tree (Deuteronomy 21:23 and Galatians 3:13), we sing of Jesus who was “lifted up” to die, like the bronze serpent in the wilderness (Numbers 21:9 and John 3:14). “Full atonement” figures here as we sing Jesus’ triumphant word, “It is finished” (the single Greek word tetelestai). This proclamation of victory issued from the cross was echoed by the exaltation in heaven of the Savior’s mission accomplished.
Lifted up was He to die;
“It is finished” was His cry;
now in heav’n exalted high:
Hallelujah, what a Savior!
Stanza 5 then looks to the future to enable us to sing of the day when this “full atonement” will be celebrated by all for whom “our glorious King” gave Himself as a ransom. He promised to return to take us home to be with Him. And when that day comes, “then anew this song we’ll sing,” and sing as never before, “Hallelujah! What a Savior.”
When He comes, our glorious King,
all His ransomed home to bring,
then anew this song we’ll sing:
Hallelujah, what a Savior!
Here is a link to the song that includes a brief introductory clip from the film about Martin Luther.