Orphaned as a toddler, shuttled between foster homes, and adopted by strangers, she had every claim to bitterness and hopelessness. Then came the crippling arthritis that would kill her at a young age. There weren't many easy days for Annie. At the turn of the 20th Century, there weren't many treatments, either. The lady sucked up her situation and wrote...and wrote...and wrote.
When I was a child, my grandma had a record album that was recorded by the niece of a family friend. That singer was named Kim Russell and she never achieved fame outside of my grandma's living room. When technology first advanced, in the 1970's, I begged for this one record to be put on audio cassette so I could listen to it in my bedroom at night - on low - so no one would know. Kim Russell had an alto, almost tenor, voice that matched well with my soon-to-be baritone. One song from that muffled recording worked its way into my consciousness at a very young age. I heard it a few days ago for the first time in two decades.
I also heard, in brief, the story of the writer of the song. The back story always makes the finished product so much more interesting. Since it's Sunday and I'll toy with notion of going to church again today, I give you a glimpse into the fixation of an 8 year old. I don't know where Kim Russell is today or if she ever recorded again, but her aunt, Jeannie Hayden, has been gone now for many years. Jeannie Hayden was the most glamorous woman I'd ever seen in church. She wore bright colors, her hair was dyed just so, her makeup was a Dolly Parton Paint Job - only holier and more awe-inspiring up close. More than a few times I went to church just to see Jeannie Hayden - and to see if her niece would come to church and sing That Song.
"He giveth more grace when the burden grows greater.
He sendeth more strength when the labors increase.
To added affliction, He addeth his mercy.
To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace.
His love has no limit.
His grace has no measure.
His power has no boundary known unto men.
For out of his infinite riches in Jesus,
He giveth and giveth and giveth again.
When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we've reached the end of our hoarded resources,
Our Father's full giving has only begun.
His love has no limit.
His grace has no measure.
His power has no boundary known unto men.
For out of his infinite riches in Jesus,
He giveth and giveth and giveth again."
--Annie Johnson Flint and Hubert Mitchell, 1941
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