George Bennard was sitting in a parsonage in Michigan in 1912 when he started scratching out the words to a melody that had been haunting him for months. He wasn't a rockstar. He wasn't a mega-church pastor with a book deal. He was just a guy struggling with the concept of the crucifixion, trying to figure out why a symbol of execution became a symbol of hope. That struggle eventually became one of the most recognized hymns in history. When we talk about how the old rugged cross made the difference, we aren't just talking about a religious slogan; we’re looking at a specific moment in American music history where a song bridged the gap between old-school theology and modern, emotional storytelling.
Music moves people. It’s weird how a few chords can change a person's entire mood, but this specific hymn did something more. It survived the transition from old tent revivals to the digital age. People still sing it. Why?
Honestly, it's because the song doesn't pretend that life is easy. It leans into the "rugged" part. Most modern worship songs are shiny and polished, but Bennard’s lyrics focus on something "stained with blood so divine." It’s gritty. It’s real. And for millions of people over the last century, that grit is exactly why it resonates.
The Story Behind the Song: More Than Just Lyrics
Bennard was an evangelist for the Salvation Army, and later the Methodist Episcopal Church. He had a rough time getting the song finished. He wrote the melody first, which is actually kind of unusual for hymn writers of that era who usually started with poetry. He had the first verse, but he got stuck. He went to New York for some revival meetings, came back to Michigan, and finally, the rest of the words clicked into place.
He played it for his friends, the Rev. Leroy and Ruby Bostwick. They loved it. They actually helped pay for the first printing. Can you imagine that? A song that would eventually be recorded by everyone from Elvis Presley to Johnny Cash started out as a self-published sheet of music in a small Midwestern town.
The reason the old rugged cross made the difference in the early 20th century was its timing. The world was changing fast. Industrialization was kicking off. World War I was right around the corner. People were scared and looking for something solid. The song offered a "wondrous attraction" that felt permanent in a world that was starting to feel very temporary.
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Why It Struck a Chord
It’s all about the imagery. The "reproach and shame" mentioned in the lyrics isn't just theological fluff. It’s a reflection of the human experience. Everyone feels shame at some point. Everyone feels like they’re carrying a heavy burden. Bennard tapped into that universal feeling of being worn down and offered a vision of "glory at last."
Music critics often point out that the song uses a 3/4 time signature—a waltz. That’s why it feels so "swayable." It’s easy to sing in a group. It doesn't require a professional choir to sound good. You can sing it acappella in a kitchen or with a pipe organ in a cathedral. That versatility is a huge reason for its longevity.
How The Old Rugged Cross Made the Difference in Music History
If you look at the discography of American music, this song is everywhere. It’s like a thread that runs through country, gospel, and even blues.
- Mahalia Jackson brought a soulful, powerhouse energy to it that changed how people heard the melody.
- Ernest Tubb and Loretta Lynn gave it that Nashville twang, making it an anthem for the working class.
- Tennessee Ernie Ford’s version became a staple in households across the country during the 1950s.
But it’s not just about the famous people. It’s about the fact that it stayed relevant. When Ray Charles or Al Green touch a hymn like this, they aren't just doing a cover; they're acknowledging that the song has a spiritual weight that transcends genre.
The song's impact on the "Gospel" genre specifically can't be overstated. Before the 1920s, hymns were often quite stiff. Bennard’s writing was part of a movement that made religious music more personal and emotional. It paved the way for the contemporary Christian music we hear today, even if those modern artists don't realize they're standing on Bennard’s shoulders.
The Theological "Difference"
From a purely historical perspective, the song simplified complex doctrines. It took the "substitutionary atonement"—a big, scary phrase for "Jesus dying for people"—and made it about an "old rugged cross." It turned a dry academic concept into a visual story. This helped the message spread among people who didn't have seminary degrees. It was the "everyman's" theology.
Comparing Then and Now
If you walk into a church today, you might hear a band with electric guitars and a light show. The songs usually focus on "me" and "my feelings." But the old rugged cross made the difference by focusing on the object of the faith rather than the feelings of the singer.
It’s a different vibe entirely.
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One focuses on the mountain top; the other focuses on the valley. And let’s be real, most of us live in the valley. That's why people keep going back to it. It acknowledges the "rugged" parts of life. It doesn't try to paint over the struggle with a happy-clappy chorus. It says, "Yeah, this is hard, this is heavy, and it's stained, but it's worth it."
Common Misconceptions About the Hymn
A lot of people think the song is hundreds of years old. It’s not. Compared to "Amazing Grace" (written in the 1770s), this hymn is a youngster, born in 1913.
Another weird myth is that Bennard became a millionaire from the song. Not true. While it was successful, he sold the rights to the song for a relatively small amount to the Rodeheaver Company. He lived a modest life, continuing his ministry until he died at the age of 85 in Reed City, Michigan. There's actually a cross memorial there now, which is a bit ironic if you think about it.
Some people also argue that the song is "too dark" because of its focus on the suffering. But that misses the point. You can't have the "crown" without the "cross." That’s the whole logic of the lyric. It’s a story of transformation, moving from a "hill far away" to a "mansion fair."
Real-World Impact: Why We Still Care
I’ve talked to people who remember their grandmothers humming this while hanging laundry. I've heard stories of it being played at funerals for veterans, where the "rugged" nature of the cross matched the rugged nature of the person being buried.
It’s a "comfort" song.
In a world of TikTok trends and 24-hour news cycles, there is something deeply grounding about a song that hasn't changed in over a century. It’s a fixed point. For many, the old rugged cross made the difference because it provided a sense of continuity. When everything else is shifting, the old hymns stay the same.
Actionable Takeaways for the Curious
If you're interested in exploring this piece of history further, don't just read about it. Listen to it. But listen to the right versions.
- Go back to the roots: Find a recording of George Beverly Shea. He was the "voice" of the Billy Graham crusades and his rendition is about as classic as it gets.
- Check out the variations: Listen to how a bluegrass band handles the tempo versus how a Southern Gospel quartet does it. Notice the "blue notes" that singers often add to the word "cross."
- Visit the history: If you’re ever in Michigan, the "Old Rugged Cross Museum" in Reed City is a fascinating look at Bennard’s life. It’s small, unpretentious, and perfectly fits the vibe of the song.
- Look at the lyrics: Actually read them without the music. Look at the contrast between words like "shame," "glory," "rugged," and "wondrous." The use of juxtaposition is what makes the writing so strong.
The song persists because it isn't afraid of the dark. It deals with death and suffering head-on, which is something we often try to avoid in modern culture. By facing those things, it offers a more honest kind of hope. That honesty is what people are looking for, whether they find it in an old hymn or a modern poem.
Ultimately, the legacy of this song isn't in the number of copies sold or the famous singers who covered it. It’s in the quiet moments—the hospital rooms, the small-town funerals, and the lonely nights—where the lyrics provided a bridge from despair to something better. That is how the song truly made its mark on the world.
To appreciate the depth of this history, start by listening to a version from a genre you usually don't like. If you're into rock, find a country version. If you like pop, find a traditional choral arrangement. You'll see that the structure of the song holds up regardless of the "paint" you put on it. That’s the sign of a masterpiece.