The lines, This is my story,
This is my song. Praising my
Saviour all the day long. This
Is my STORE-ee was the phrase
She hit the loudest, hardest,
But it wasn’t her story
That she loved. She hardly talked
About her story. She loved
That note, how it fit her voice,
How she could bellow it out
And not flat. My STOWR-ree.
It was church. No one in church
Checked the writers of the words
Of their most-often sung hymns.
They just shouted out their choice
Whenever given the chance.
Blessed Assurance was hers.
Fanny J Crosby wrote more
Hymns than Blessed Assurance,
Upwards of nine thousand more.
Blind, and a mission worker
In New York most of her life,
Crosby also wrote lyrics
On political topics
And for secular music,
Including poems exclaiming
Over the western prairie,
After hearing it described
As a kind of west Eden,
And her longing to die there.
But who in Harriet’s church
Knew or cared to know such things?
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