Stuart Townend is one of today’s leading worship songwriters. Hymns such as “In Christ alone”, “How deep the Father’s love” and “The power of the cross” are sung in churches around the world, while the skill and depth of his lyric writing has drawn some to compare his contribution to hymnody to that of Watts and Wesley.
Aside from writing, Stuart travels around the UK and abroad, leading worship at events and performing concerts on his own or with his band. An accomplished musician, arranger and producer, he also has years of experience in teaching and training musicians who serve in local church worship.
Stuart has featured on numerous live albums, and to date has recorded ten solo albums. He appears regularly on the BBC’s immensely popular Songs of Praise Programme. In June 2017 Stuart was delighted to receive from the Archbishop of Canterbury The Thomas Cranmer Award for Worship “for his outstanding contribution to contemporary worship music.”
Stuart’s most recent album, “Courage” (2018), includes some powerful personal songs, including “Keep you here”, an honest and moving response to his brother’s recent journey with cancer; and “I am here for you” (co-written with his daughter), exploring issues of mental health.
Stuart is married with three grown up children, and lives in Brighton, UK.
Watts was born in Southampton, England in 1674 and was brought up in the home of a committed religious Nonconformist; his father, also Isaac Watts, had been incarcerated twice for his views. Watts had a classical education at King Edward VI School, learning Latin, Greek, and Hebrew.Watts displayed a propensity for rhyme from an early age. He was once asked why he had his eyes open during prayers, to which he responded:A little mouse for want of stairs-ran up a rope to say its prayers.He received corporal punishment for this, to which he cried:O father, father, pity take And I will no more verses make.Watts could not attend Oxford or Cambridge because he was a nonconformist and these universities were restricted to Anglicans—as were government positions at the time. He went to the Dissenting Academy at Stoke Newington in 1690. Much of the remainder of his life centred on that village, which is now part of Inner London.Following his education, Watts was called as pastor of a large independent chapel in London, Mark Lane Congregational Chapel, where he helped train preachers, despite his poor health. He held religious opinions that were more nondenominational or ecumenical than was common for a nonconformist Congregationalist. He had a greater interest in promoting education and scholarship than preaching for any particular sect. Watts took work as a private tutor and lived with the Nonconformist Hartopp family at Fleetwood House on Church Street in Stoke Newington. Through them, he became acquainted with their immediate neighbours Sir Thomas Abney and Lady Mary. He eventually lived for a total of 36 years in the Abney household, most of the time at Abney House, their second residence. (Lady Mary had inherited the manor of Stoke Newington in 1701 from her late brother Thomas Gunston.)On the death of Sir Thomas Abney in 1722, his widow Lady Mary and her unmarried daughter Elizabeth moved all her household to Abney House from Hertfordshire, and she invited Watts to continue with them. He particularly enjoyed the grounds at Abney Park, which Lady Mary planted with two elm walks leading down to an island heronry in the Hackney Brook, and he often sought inspiration there for the many books and hymns that he wrote.Watts lived at Abney Hall in Stoke Newington until his death in 1748; he was buried in Bunhill Fields. He left an extensive legacy of hymns, treatises, educational works, and essays. His work was influential amongst Nonconformist independents and religious revivalists of the 18th century, such as Philip Doddridge, who dedicated his best-known work to Watts.
One of Issac watts well known hymns is the following;
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.