Rhythmic rhyme in "Stand By Me"

This week I have been reading the hymn "Stand By Me," written by Charles A. Tindley in 1905, and I have been noticing something strange, literally. Though most of this post is about a literary observation rather than the hymn itself, the lyrics are powerful, so I'll share them here. While you read them, too, you might notice what I noticed.

When the storms of life are raging,
Stand by me
When the storms of life are raging,
Stand by me
When the world is tossing me
Like a ship upon the sea
Thou who rules wind and water,
Stand by me.

In the midst of tribulation,
Stand by me
In the midst of tribulation,
Stand by me.
When the hosts of sin assail,
And my strength begins to fail,
Thou who never lost a battle,
Stand by me.

In the midst of faults and failures,
Stand by me
In the midst of faults and failures,
Stand by me
When I've done the best I can
And my friends misunderstand
Thou who knowest all about me,
Stand by me.

When I'm growing old and feeble,
Stand by me
When I'm growing old and feeble,
Stand by me
When my life becomes a burden
And I'm nearing chilly Jordan
O thou Lily of the Valley,
Stand by me.

(Tune: STAND BY ME)

The structure of each stanza is ABABCCDB (see Fig. 1), with the A lines repeating, the B lines repeating (always "Stand by me"), the last words of the C lines rhyming with each other (for example, "assail" and "fail" in the second stanza), and the D line sharing the same meter with the A and C lines but not rhyming with either of them--at least not as we traditionally understand rhymes. I'll get back to that in a second.

Fig. 1: Structure of stanza one
1  When the storms of life are raging,  (A)
2  Stand by me  (B)
3  When the storms of life are raging,  (A)
4  Stand by me  (B)
5  When the world is tossing me  (C)
6  Like a ship upon the sea  (C)
7  Thou who rules wind and water,  (D)
8  Stand by me.  (B)

Further, each line is trochaic, meaning the stress falls on the first beat of each foot (see Fig. 2). In each stanza, lines A, C, and D are tetrameter--they contain four feet--and line B is dimeter, with two feet.

Fig. 2: Meter of stanza two
/  x  /  x  /  x  /  x 
/  x  / 
/  x  /  x  /  x  /  x 
/  x  / 
/  x  /  x  /  x  / 
/  x  /  x  /  x  / 
/  x  /  x  /  x  /  x 
/  x  / 

/ = stressed syllable
x = unstressed syllable

Dictionary.com defines rhyme as "a word agreeing with another in terminal sound." Based on this definition, in each stanza, the only line that doesn't rhyme is line D, since its final sound does not correspond with any other final sounds in the stanza. However, when I read line D, particularly in the last three stanzas, I feel that somehow it does rhyme. In stanza two, for example, it seems like the word "battle" rhymes with a word that comes earlier, though I cannot locate that word.

I believe the rhyming sensation comes from the fact that, though line D ends in a word that doesn't rhyme with any other, line D--like lines A and C-- is tetrameter, whereas line B is dimeter. The movement from dimeter to tetrameter back to dimeter (in Fig. 1, lines 4 through 8) creates a sensation of rhyme when we reach line D's last foot. It is not line D's word or words themselves ("battle," "about me," or "Valley") which rhyme with other words, but their placeholder value, their nature as trochaic feet at the end of a tetramic line. Basically, their feet rhyme with other feet. But the words are important too, since we would never hear the feet without the words that inhabit them.

Some nuances in the hymn slightly change this rhyming effect. The first stanza is the only one containing a line D consisting of seven rather than eight syllables:

Thou who rules wind and water 

/  x  /  /  x  /  x 

Thus, while the line is still trochaic, it doesn't correspond exactly with the other tetramic lines in that stanza, which all have eight syllables. This mismatch eliminates the sensation of rhyme when we reach the word "water." The lines D of the second and third stanzas, however, have eight trochaic syllables, which is why their final words, "battle" and "about me," rhyme both with each other and with the other tetramic lines.

In stanza four, line D also has eight syllables. What's different, though, is that whereas in the first three stanzas lines C contain six syllables, here in the fourth stanza lines C both contain eight syllables, just like line D. Though here line D's contrast is not as distinct from surrounding lines as in the second and third stanzas, line D still rhymes. This suggests that we hear rhythmic rhymes clearly when lines of diverse rhythms surround it (the dimetric nature of lines B is in this case very helpful) and when the rhyming line's stress pattern corresponds as closely as it can with its parallel lines. Here, those parallel lines are the A lines, whose repetition further strengthens the rhyme effect of line D because line D's final word surprises us by being something different than line A's final word.

Because rhythm is integral to sound in poetry, we can broaden the definition of rhyme to include words that correspond with each other through their rhythmic structure. 

Tindley's hymn asks God to stand by us when storms thrash us, tribulations attack us, friends misunderstand us, and death looms around us. We might see in the lines of this hymn an image of God standing with us: although lines D end with words that do not traditionally rhyme, the lines still belong in the hymn because they correspond rhythmically with lines A and C and contrast rhythmically with lines B, creating a new kind of rhyme. Further, their differences emphasize the message of their words. When we are disjointed or feel out of step, may we discover God standing by us, empowering us to rhyme.

Hymnflection: "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go"

If you're ever wondering if God is calling you to do something, a song you may wish to consider singing is "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go," written by Mary Brown in 1892.

It may not be on the mountain's height,
or over the stormy sea;
it may not be at the battle's front
my Lord will have need of me;
but if by a still, small voice he calls
to paths I do not know,
I'll answer dear Lord with my hand in thine,
I'll go where you want me to go.

I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord,
o'er mountain, or plain or sea;
I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord,
I'll be what you want me to be.

Perhaps today there are loving words
which Jesus would have me speak;
there may be now, in the paths of sin,
some wanderer whom I should seek.
O Savior, if thou wilt be my Guide,
tho' dark and rugged the way,
my voice shall echo the message sweet,
I'll say what you want me to say.

There's surely somewhere a lowly place
in earth's harvest fields so wide,
where I may labor thro life's short day
for Jesus the Crucified.
So, trusting my all unto thy care,
I know thou lovest me!
I'll do thy will with a heart sincere,
I'll be what you want me to be.

(Tune: MANCHESTER)

This hymn encourages us to be open to God's leading in our lives, whether God calls us to move geographically, to speak a good message to strangers, or to commit our lives in service to God. According to the song, God needs us. God may be able to accomplish his will by snapping his fingers and miraculously changing the world, but this song teaches that God needs our help, and that God acts in the world through us.

While God often calls people to new lands, the second verse shows that God may call us to participate in God's mission where we are. When we walk down the street, we may find "some wanderer" to whom God has called us to bring glad tidings. The third verse describes the entire world as "harvest fields so wide." This alludes to when Jesus, having traveled through various towns to teach, preach, and heal, looks on the crowds with compassion because they are like sheep with no shepherd, and tells his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest" (Matt. 9:37-38). Through this hymn, we can ask God to hire us as laborers in God's harvest.

The phrase "life's short day" alerts me to the limited opportunities we have to do good. At the same time, it encourages me to give thanks for every moment, not fearing that it will vanish but delighting in it because of its rarity. Paradoxically, though the day is short, time serving God overflows. Rather than counting time in fear that it is running out, we can count time in thanksgiving, knowing that all time belongs in God. More important than how much time we have left is how we live in that time. My brief experiences with time suggest that time in love for God and others always becomes holy and good, and there is enough time for that kind of time. Also, if God is merciful and if time belongs in God, then time too may be merciful. Though the day is short, the day has not ended, and God may give us grace in the form of time to do God's work even if we have waited longer than we should have to begin working.

Mary Brown says we labor for "Jesus the Crucified," suggesting that Jesus' death is the model for our work. Sometimes that comparison can tempt people to work in ways that are not good for them, and in ways God has not called them to work. For example, in an attempt to help another person, someone may inflict suffering upon herself, even if that suffering does nothing to help the other person. She may think her action was right because Jesus helped others by giving his entire life. Although through Jesus' death we receive life and enter a new relationship with God, his sacrifice is unique and final; there is none like his.

Further, various places in the Bible tell us that God does not require us to sacrifice ourselves, our animals, or our firstborn; instead, God requires that we do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8). The sacrifice God desires, the Psalmist tells us, is a broken spirit and a contrite heart (Ps. 51:17).

What helps me understand Jesus' sacrifice is communion. In communion, we share a meal which is Jesus' body and blood given for us. We give thanks for what God did for us in Christ. Jesus' death is like his life in that it was a gift and an offering for the world. Wherever Jesus went, he gave of himself to others, delighting them with stories and teaching them God's ways. His death was the ultimate act of teaching people how to live faithfully and peacefully, proclaiming the good news of God's reconciling love, and healing the world. When we take communion, we welcome the power of Jesus' good work into our lives.

Similarly, we are called to be thanksgiving meals which nourish, strengthen, and give life to others. It may mean moving to the middle of a war zone, or it may mean moving to the middle of a city. It may mean preaching the gospel in a foreign language, or it may mean reaching out to someone we see often but have never looked at in the eyes. God's work for each of us is unique because God has given us different gifts and callings. But we unite in that our model and energy source for this work is Jesus; like him, we can trust our all into God's care, confident in God's love for us. Empowered by his Spirit, we too can go where God sends us, say what God gives us, and be who God calls us to be.