He Will Hold Me Fast by Lara d’Entremont

When my oldest was a baby, I paced the floors for hours while trying to soothe him. In darkened rooms before the sun rose, in the living room where dust danced like fairies in the light that stretched between the curtains, and in the church basement as the congregation sang and listened above me. He had reflux and didn’t sleep well, and I was a first time mom with barely a clue of what she was doing. 

As my arms ached and exhaustion made my eyes burn as if sand had been thrown in them, my shaky voice put itself into a hymn.

When I fear my faith will fail

Christ will hold me fast

When the tempter would prevail

He will hold me fast

As I paced over creaky, uneven floorboards, my soul clung to the truth I needed most: That Christ will hold me fast through it all. I feared for my mind that seemed to become more and more clouded with darkness each day—intrusive thoughts I didn’t understand, fears of inadequacy, and a cloak of sadness that weighed on me—and my physical health that was beginning to feel all the ramifications of lack of sleep, lack of food, and fluctuating hormones. 

In the midst of it all, my faith appeared as a fraying thread. I could barely catch five minutes to read my Bible and most Sundays I spent either wandering the church basement or curled up in a chair in another room breastfeeding. 

But as I paced, I reached out to get my hands around the one thing I knew I could: a beloved hymn that I could sing to my crying babe. Some days I cried with him as I sang the words. Some days my foggy brain couldn’t remember all the lines, so I hummed where memory fell short. And Christ carried me through, like the lost sheep, and didn’t let me go. 

I could never keep my hold

Through life’s fearful path

For my love is often cold

He must hold me fast

—

When my oldest was nearing two years old, we experienced two miscarriages. Up to that point in my faith, suffering had been hard but had never rattled my faith—but this did. How could God take two unborn babies from my womb? How could he allow my joy to be crushed nearly in the same breath? And not just once, but twice? To add salt to the wound, weeks after the babies had left me, I still found myself curled up on the couch with nausea. 

Where is God? I demanded of my friends and husband. Where is this good God who claims to love me? How could he stand by and allow this? I clenched my fists and shook them at God. Every promise I read in Scripture ignited embers of anger in the pit of my chest. How could both my heartache and his love be true?

Yet a dear friend, who knew the words to that hymn that had proven so precious to me, sent these lines:

Those He saves are His delight

Christ will hold me fast

Precious in His holy sight

He will hold me fast

He'll not let my soul be lost

His promises shall last

Bought by Him at such a cost

He will hold me fast

As I wrestled through doubt and anger, I realized that while I was demanding an answer from God to prove his love for me, I had forgotten his greatest act of love on the cross.

He redeemed me with his own life, was crushed for my iniquities, bore the unbearable wrath of God that I deserved—how could he not love me? His world is broken, but he promises to hold me fast through it all until he redeems each of his children and renews his marred creation.

—

After my two miscarriages, I became pregnant with twin boys. When they were infants, I felt like I was in a tailspin at times; we woke every two hours to feed and pump, we sterilized and filled bottles, we changed endless diapers, and had a toddler struggling with the new changes. My anxiety created a whirlpool in my mind that tried to suck me under at every turn with intrusive thoughts and flashbacks to the operating table where Baby B’s heart rate kept dropping. Even singing a hymn to them felt like grasping at the air. I didn’t have the courage to find those words this time—I could barely tell an intrusive thought from my own.

Through a string of unlikely circumstances, we were connected with a young girl who could come into my home to help me with my housework and children. Each day, she sang hymn after hymn to our babies—and in doing so, she sang them to me as well. She doesn’t know, but her beautiful voice stringing out hymns from memory became a rock for me to cling on while the whirlpool pulled at my ankles. As we paced the floors with wailing babies, I took hold of every word she sang. 

For my life He bled and died

Christ will hold me fast

Justice has been satisfied

He will hold me fast

When I couldn’t sing, she sang for me. And by God’s grace, I was held fast yet again. 

—

A few weeks ago, as one of my twins cried from a fever and stuffy nose (and the other cried for him), I gathered them up in the rocking chair with me to sing that same song. They still cried, and I cried again with them. My oldest played and listened from the couch. Christ carried each of us through. 

As I’ve held each of my babies, Christ has cradled me. As they cried out in the night and I struggled to lift my head from the pillow, Christ followed me to their darkened room and listened to my cries. As I comforted my children from stomach aches and monsters behind the curtains, Christ comforted me. As I held them fast, he held each of us.

When we close our eyes for the final time on this earth, he will draw each of his children to eternal life, where our faith will be made sight as we behold the One who carried us through every heartache, every trouble, every wandering, every tossing of the sea. He’ll not let us be lost; he’ll pursue us, and he’ll surely hold us fast to that beautiful day. You are his delight and precious in his sight—Christ will hold you, even when your failing hands can hold onto nothing else.

Raised with Him to endless life

He will hold me fast

Till our faith is turned to sight

When he comes at last

I’m a freelance writer from Nova Scotia, Canada. I’m a staff writer for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and a regular contributor to Well-Watered Women. I’ve written for a handful of other Christian websites such as Risen Motherhood, The Gospel Coalition, Modern Reformation, and Common Good. You can read a sample of my writing in my latest piece for Common Good here: https://www.madetoflourish.org/resources/a-tale-of-lacadie-a-tale-of-a-refugee. You can view more of my writing at https://laradentremont.com.