Helen Lemmel

June 7, 2026
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When Everything Was Taken, She Finally Saw God Clearly. Helen Lemmel’s life was marked by success, talent, and a thriving ministry—until sudden illness, blindness, and deep personal loss stripped everything away. In her darkest season, she discovered that faith is not dependent on physical sight but on spiritual focus. This is a powerful reminder that when life feels like it is falling apart, God may be inviting us to see Him more clearly than ever before. “If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” (Colossians 3:1–3 ESV)

Full Transcript

It was 1876 when Helen Lemmel experienced her first change by moving to the United States from England. She was 12. Pursuing her passion for God and music, she studied vocal lessons in Germany. She wrote more than 400 hymns, poems, and songs, which helped all who heard grow closer to God. Helen also taught vocal music at the Moody Bible College in Chicago, passing her gifts and wisdom to the next generation and generations to come. 

Seeing the Unseen 

Helen Lemmel stood on the platform of the Milwaukee church, sun shining through the window into her eyes, causing the congregation to appear unclear. Her voice was sweet and cultivated. The lyrics she wrote infiltrated every heart in the room. People wondered what was unique about Helen that captivated them. Was it years of practice and schooling? The support of her husband? Talent or passion? Something intertwined with her voice, leaving them wanting more. People didn’t know what it was, but Helen did. Helen smiled as the sun continued to shine blindingly into her eyes. It was Jesus. 

Helen’s schedule stayed full. Churches invited her to sing, and colleges invited her to teach. The crowds served and miles traveled as she spent days on tour. Finding a quiet moment, Helen shifted focus. Her heart whispered praises to God.   

Rubbing her temples, Helen’s eyes strained as she tried to regain focus. Was her busy schedule catching up to her? Inhaling slowly, she closed her eyes, then exhaled in a slow, controlled breath. On the road again, only this time there was no song to sing or seminar to teach . . . only a doctor to be seen. 

Helen stood dazed, replaying the doctor’s words in her mind.  A disease had fallen upon her, and with it would come total blindness.  

Helen studied everything around her. The color of the flowers on her favorite path, the grass swaying in the wind. She didn’t want to forget. Her schedule lulled as her vision faded, and so did everything she’d ever known. The change weighed on Helen. Looking to her husband for reassurance, she watched as his blurry silhouette walked through the door with his suitcase in hand. Unable to cope with the change, he left Helen and had no plans to return. Lonely and afraid, Helen fell to the floor, crying out to God. As she wiped her face with the tear-soaked handkerchief, she opened her eyes. Darkness. 

People watched Helen after that. She couldn’t see it, but she felt the stares. The question always came, “How are you, Helen?”  

Helen provided the rehearsed response, “I am fine in the things that count.” Unable to hide from constant reminders, Helen hurried home, retreating to her safe place—prayer. She felt broken, alone, and angry. Still, she sought God. In the safe place, her heart was always restored. She couldn’t let heartache make her faith waver. As if she hadn’t had enough change already, Helen realized she needed another change. She needed to leave Wisconsin.  

Seattle, Washington, brought refreshment. And Helen was singing again. Her voice filled the room as she prepared for company. She’d barely opened the door before her friend interjected with a pamphlet in hand. “Focus” was the title. 

Helen chuckled at the irony. She’d grown familiar with the term. Helen listened to the story of a dandelion filling with the light of the sun, radiating brightly. And she imagined just what it would look like. She continued to listen, “So then, turn your eyes upon him, look full into his face, and you will find that the things of earth will acquire a strange new dimness.”  

Helen’s heart raced. Warmth fell over her body. She rushed to find a pen, for she had something to write.  

Her penmanship was scattered and messy. But words flowed onto the paper. The Holy Spirit was directing lyrics and music. As she gripped the pen, her hand trembled. She hadn’t written in so long. 

With every line of lyrics written, her heart illuminated. God had made all things good in this moment. Helen lifted her voice, and sung out powerfully, “O soul are you weary and troubled? No light in the darkness you see? There’s a light for a look at the Savior, and life more abundant and free! Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face, and the things of this earth with grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.”  

Helen’s world came full circle. She acknowledged her focus. Jesus. If there was one thing Helen had learned from going blind and the heartaches that followed, it was that she didn’t need her vision to see Jesus.  

Drained by the adrenaline of revelation, Helen placed her pen down. She retreated to her safe place again, resting in the light of His glory and grace. 

“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:1–3 ESV). 

It was 1876 when Helen Lemmel experienced her first change by moving to the United States from England. She was 12. Pursuing her passion for God and music, she studied vocal lessons in Germany. She wrote more than 400 hymns, poems, and songs, which helped all who heard grow closer to God. Helen also taught vocal music at the Moody Bible College in Chicago, passing her gifts and wisdom to the next generation and generations to come.

Seeing the Unseen

Helen Lemmel stood on the platform of the Milwaukee church, sun shining through the window into her eyes, causing the congregation to appear unclear. Her voice was sweet and cultivated. The lyrics she wrote infiltrated every heart in the room. People wondered what was unique about Helen that captivated them. Was it years of practice and schooling? The support of her husband? Talent or passion? Something intertwined with her voice, leaving them wanting more. People didn’t know what it was, but Helen did. Helen smiled as the sun continued to shine blindingly into her eyes. It was Jesus.

Helen’s schedule stayed full. Churches invited her to sing, and colleges invited her to teach. The crowds served and miles traveled as she spent days on tour. Finding a quiet moment, Helen shifted focus. Her heart whispered praises to God.

Rubbing her temples, Helen’s eyes strained as she tried to regain focus. Was her busy schedule catching up to her? Inhaling slowly, she closed her eyes, then exhaled in a slow, controlled breath. On the road again, only this time there was no song to sing or seminar to teach . . . only a doctor to be seen.

Helen stood dazed, replaying the doctor’s words in her mind. A disease had fallen upon her, and with it would come total blindness.

Helen studied everything around her. The color of the flowers on her favorite path, the grass swaying in the wind. She didn’t want to forget. Her schedule lulled as her vision faded, and so did everything she’d ever known. The change weighed on Helen. Looking to her husband for reassurance, she watched as his blurry silhouette walked through the door with his suitcase in hand. Unable to cope with the change, he left Helen and had no plans to return. Lonely and afraid, Helen fell to the floor, crying out to God. As she wiped her face with the tear-soaked handkerchief, she opened her eyes. Darkness.

People watched Helen after that. She couldn’t see it, but she felt the stares. The question always came, “How are you, Helen?”

Helen provided the rehearsed response, “I am fine in the things that count.” Unable to hide from constant reminders, Helen hurried home, retreating to her safe place—prayer. She felt broken, alone, and angry. Still, she sought God. In the safe place, her heart was always restored. She couldn’t let heartache make her faith waver. As if she hadn’t had enough change already, Helen realized she needed another change. She needed to leave Wisconsin.

Seattle, Washington, brought refreshment. And Helen was singing again. Her voice filled the room as she prepared for company. She’d barely opened the door before her friend interjected with a pamphlet in hand. “Focus” was the title.

Helen chuckled at the irony. She’d grown familiar with the term. Helen listened to the story of a dandelion filling with the light of the sun, radiating brightly. And she imagined just what it would look like. She continued to listen, “So then, turn your eyes upon him, look full into his face, and you will find that the things of earth will acquire a strange new dimness.”

Helen’s heart raced. Warmth fell over her body. She rushed to find a pen, for she had something to write.

Her penmanship was scattered and messy. But words flowed onto the paper. The Holy Spirit was directing lyrics and music. As she gripped the pen, her hand trembled. She hadn’t written in so long.

With every line of lyrics written, her heart illuminated. God had made all things good in this moment. Helen lifted her voice, and sung out powerfully, “O soul are you weary and troubled? No light in the darkness you see? There’s a light for a look at the Savior, and life more abundant and free! Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face, and the things of this earth with grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.”

Helen’s world came full circle. She acknowledged her focus. Jesus. If there was one thing Helen had learned from going blind and the heartaches that followed, it was that she didn’t need her vision to see Jesus.

Drained by the adrenaline of revelation, Helen placed her pen down. She retreated to her safe place again, resting in the light of His glory and grace.

“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:1–3 ESV).