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THE STORY OF THE HYMNS AND TUNES
by
THERON BROWN and HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH
_Multae terricolis linguae, coelestibus una._
_Ten thousand, thousand are their tongues,
But all their joys are one._
New York, 1906
[Frontispiece: Thomas Ken]
CONTENTS.
PREFACE, v
INTRODUCTION, ix
1. HYMNS OF PRAISE AND WORSHIP, 1
2. SOME HYMNS OF GREAT WITNESSES, 53
3. HYMNS OF CHRISTIAN DEVOTION AND EXPERIENCE, 100
4. MISSIONARY HYMNS, 165
5. HYMNS OF SUFFERING AND TRUST, 190
6. CHRISTIAN BALLADS, 237
7. OLD REVIVAL HYMNS, 262
8. SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMNS, 293
9. PATRIOTIC HYMNS, 321
10. SAILOR'S HYMNS, 353
11. HYMNS OF WALES, 378
12. FIELD HYMNS, 409
13. HYMNS, FESTIVAL AND OCCASIONAL, 458
14. HYMNS OF HOPE AND CONSOLATION, 509
INDEXES OF NAMES, TUNES, AND HYMNS, 543
LIST OF PORTRAITS.
THOMAS KEN, Frontispiece
OLIVER HOLDEN, Opp. page 14
JOSEPH HAYDN, " 30
CHARLES WESLEY, " 46
MARTIN LUTHER, " 62
LADY HUNTINGDON, " 94
AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY, " 126
THOMAS HASTINGS, " 142
FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL, " 158
REGINALD HEBER, " 174
GEORGE JAMES WEBB, " 190
JOHN WESLEY, " 206
JOHN B. DYKES, " 222
ELLEN M.H. GATES, " 254
JAMES MONTGOMERY, " 286
FANNY J. CROSBY, " 302
SAMUEL F. SMITH, " 334
WILLIAM B. BRADBURY, " 366
ISAAC WATTS, " 398
GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL, " 414
PHILIP DODDRIDGE, " 446
LOWELL MASON, " 478
CARL VON WEBER, " 494
HORATIUS BONAR, " 526
PREFACE.
When the lapse of time and accumulation of fresh material suggested the
need of a new and revised edition of Mr. Hezekiah Butterworth's _Story
of the Hymns_, which had been a popular text book on that subject for
nearly a generation, the publishers requested him to prepare such a
work, reviewing the whole field of hymnology and its literature down to
date. He undertook the task, but left it unfinished at his lamented
death, committing the manuscript to me in his last hours to arrange and
complete.
To do this proved a labor of considerable magnitude, since what had been
done showed evidence of the late author's failing strength, and when, in
a conference with the publishers, it was proposed to combine the two
books of Mr. Butterworth, the _Story of the Hymns_ and the _Story of the
Tunes_, in one volume, the task was doubled.
The charming popular style and story-telling gift of the well-known
compiler of these books had kept them in demand, the one for thirty and
the other for fifteen years, but later information had discounted some
of their historic and biographical matter, and, while many of the
monographs were too meagre, others were unduly long. Besides, the _Story
of the Tunes_, so far from being the counterpart of the _Story of the
Hymns_, bore no special relationship to it, only a small portion of its
selections answering to any in the hymn-list of the latter book. For a
personal friend and practically unknown writer, to follow Mr.
Butterworth, and "improve" his earlier work to the more modern
conditions, was a venture of no little difficulty and delicacy. The
result is submitted as simply a conscientious effort to give the best of
the old with the new.
So far as was possible, matter from the two previous books, and from the
crude manuscript, has been used, and passages here and there
transcribed, but so much of independent plan and original research has
been necessary in arranging and verifying the substance of the chapters
that the _Story of the Hymns and Tunes_ is in fact a new volume rather
than a continuation. The chapter containing the account of the _Gospel
Hymns_ is recent work with scarcely an exception, and the one on the
_Hymns of Wales_ is entirely new.
Without increasing the size of this volume beyond easy purchase and
convenient use, it was impossible to discuss the great oratorios and
dramatic set-pieces, festival and occasional, and only passing
references are made to them or their authors.
Among those who have helped me in my work special acknowledgements are
due to Mr. Hubert P. Main of Newark, N.J.; Messrs. Hughes & Son of
Wrexham, Wales; the American Tract Society, New York; Mr. William T.
Meek, Mrs. A.J. Gordon, Mr. Paul Foster, Mr. George Douglas, and Revs.
John R. Hague and Edmund F. Merriam of Boston; Professor William L.
Phelps of New Haven, Conn.; Mrs. Ellen M.H. Gates of New York; Rev.
Franklin G. McKeever of New London, Conn.; and Rev. Arthur S. Phelps of
Greeley, Colorado. Further obligations are gratefully remembered to
Oliver Ditson & Co. for answers to queries and access to publications,
to the Historic-and-Geneological Society and the custodians and
attendants of the Boston Public Library (notably in the Music
Department) for their uniform courtesy and pains in placing every
resource within my reach.
THERON BROWN.
Boston, May 15th, 1906.
INTRODUCTION.
Augustine defines a hymn as "praise to God with song," and another
writer calls hymn-singing "a devotional approach to God in our
emotions,"--which of course applies to both the words and the music.
This religious emotion, reverently acknowledging the Divine Being in
song, is a constant element, and wherever felt it makes the song a
worship, irrespective of sect or creed. An eminent Episcopal divine,
(says the _Christian Register_,) one Trinity Sunday, at the close of his
sermon, read three hymns by Unitarian authors: one to God the Father, by
Samuel Longfellow, one to Jesus, by Theodore Parker, and one to the Holy
Spirit, by N.L. Frothingham. "There," he said, "you have the
Trinity--Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."
It is natural to speak of hymns as "poems," indiscriminately, for they
have the same structure. But a hymn is not necessarily a poem, while a
poem that can be sung as a hymn is something more than a poem.
Imagination makes poems; devotion makes hymns. There can be poetry
without emotion, but a hymn never. A poem may argue; a hymn must not.
In short to be a hymn, what is written must express spiritual feelings
and desires. The music of faith, hope and charity will be somewhere in
its strain.
Philosophy composes poems, but not hymns. "It is no love-symphony we
hear when the lion thinkers roar," some blunt writer has said. "The
moles of Science have never found the heavenly dove's nest, and the Sea
of Reason touches no shore where balm for sorrow grows."
On the contrary there are thousands of true hymns that have no standing
at the court of the muses. Even Cowper's Olney hymns, as Goldwin Smith
has said, "have not any serious value as poetry. Hymns rarely have," he
continues. "There is nothing in them on which the creative imagination
can be exercised. Hymns can be little more than the incense of a
worshipping soul."
A fellow-student of Phillips Brooks tells us that "most of his verse he
wrote rapidly without revising, not putting much thought into it but
using it as the vehicle and outlet of his feelings. It was the sign of
responding love or gratitude and joy."
To produce a hymn one needs something more exalting than poetic fancy;
an influence
"--subtler than the sun-light in the leaf-bud
That thrills thro' all the forest, making May."
It is the Divine Spirit wakening the human heart to lyric language.
Religion sings; that is true, though all "religions" do not sing. There
is no voice of sacred song in Islamism. The muezzin call from the
minarets is not music. One listens in vain for melody among the
worshippers of the "Light of Asia." The hum of pagoda litanies, and the
shouts and gongs of idol processions are not psalms. But many historic
faiths have lost their melody, and we must go far back in the annals of
ethnic life to find the songs they sung.
Worship appears to have been a primitive human instinct; and even when
many gods took the place of One in the blinder faith of men it was
nature worship making deities of the elements and addressing them with
supplication and praise. Ancient hymns have been found on the monumental
tablets of the cities of Nimrod; fragments of the Orphic and Homeric
hymns are preserved in Greek anthology; many of the Vedic hymns are
extant in India; and the exhumed stones of Egypt have revealed segments
of psalm-prayers and liturgies that antedate history. Dr. Wallis Budge,
the English Orientalist, notes the discovery of a priestly hymn two
thousand years older than the time of Moses, which invokes One Supreme
Being who "cannot be figured in stone."
So far as we have any real evidence, however, the Hebrew people
surpassed all others in both the custom and the spirit of devout song.
We get snatches of their inspired lyrics in the song of Moses and
Miriam, the song of Deborah and Barak, and the song of Hannah (sometimes
called "the Old Testament Magnificat"), in the hymns of David and
Solomon and all the Temple Psalms, and later where the New Testament
gives us the "Gloria" of the Christmas angels, the thanksgiving of
Elizabeth (benedictus minor), Mary's Magnificat, the song of Zacharias
(benedictus major), the "nunc dimittis" of Simeon, and the celestial
ascriptions and hallelujahs heard by St. John in his Patmos dream. For
what we know of the first _formulated_ human prayer and praise we are
mostly indebted to the Hebrew race. They seem to have been at least the
only ancient nation that had a complete psalter--and their collection is
the mother hymn-book of the world.
Probably the first form of hymn-worship was the plain-song--a
declamatory unison of assembled singers, every voice on the same pitch,
and within the compass of five notes--and so continued, from whatever
may have stood for plain-song in Tabernacle and Temple days down to the
earliest centuries of the Christian church. It was mere melodic
progression and volume of tone, and there were no instruments--after the
captivity. Possibly it was the memory of the harps hung silent by the
rivers of Babylon that banished the timbrel from the sacred march and
the ancient lyre from the post-exilic synagogues. Only the Feast trumpet
was left. But the Jews sang. Jesus and his disciples sang. Paul and
Silas sang; and so did the post-apostolic Christians; but until towards
the close of the 16th century there were no instruments allowed in
religious worship.
St. Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers has been called "the father of Christian
hymnology." About the middle of the 4th century he regulated the
ecclesiastical song-service, wrote chant music (to Scripture words or
his own) and prescribed its place and use in his choirs. He died A.D.
368. In the Church calendars, Jan. 13th (following "Twelfth Night"), is
still kept as "St. Hilary's Day" in the Church of England, and Jan. 14th
in the Church of Rome.
St. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, a few years later, improved the work of
his predecessor, adding words and music of his own. The "Ambrosian
Chant" was the antiphonal plain-song arranged and systematized to
statelier effect in choral symphony. Ambrose died A.D. 397.
Toward the end of the 6th century Christian music showed a decline in
consequence of impatient meddling with the slow canonical psalmody, and
"reformers" had impaired its solemnity by introducing fanciful
embellishments. Gregory the Great (Pope of Rome, 590-604) banished these
from the song service, founded a school of sacred melody, composed new
chants and established the distinctive character of ecclesiastical hymn
worship. The Gregorian chant--on the diatonic eight sounds and seven
syllables of equal length--continued, with its majestic choral step, to
be the basis of cathedral music for a thousand years. In the meantime
(930) Hucbald, the Flanders monk, invented _sight_ music, or written
notes--happily called the art of "hearing with the eyes and seeing with
the ears"; and Guido Arentino (1024) contrived the present scale, or the
"hexachord" on which the present scale was perfected.
In this long interval, however, the "established" system of hymn service
did not escape the intrusion of inevitable novelties that crept in with
the change of popular taste. Unrhythmical singing could not always hold
its own; and when polyphonic music came into public favor, secular airs
gradually found their way into the choirs. Legatos, with their pleasing
turn and glide, caught the ear of the multitude. Tripping allegrettos
sounded sweeter to the vulgar sense than the old largos of Pope Gregory
the Great.
The guardians of the ancient order took alarm. One can imagine the
pained amazement of conservative souls today on hearing "Ring the Bells
of Heaven" substituted in church for "Mear" or the long-metre Doxology,
and can understand the extreme distaste of the ecclesiastical
reactionaries for the worldly frivolities of an A.D. 1550 choir.
Presumably that modern abomination, the _vibrato_, with its shake of
artificial fright, had not been invented then, and sanctuary form was
saved one indignity. But the innovations became an abuse so general that
the Council of Trent commissioned a select board of cardinals and
musicians to arrest the degeneration of church song-worship.
One of the experts consulted in this movement was an eminent Italian
composer born twenty miles from Rome. His full name was Giovanni Pietro
Aloysio da Palestrina, and at that time he was in the prime of his
powers. He was master of polyphonic music as well as plain-song, and he
proposed applying it to grace the older mode, preserving the solemn
beauty of the chant but adding the charming chords of counterpoint. He
wrote three "masses," one of them being his famous "Requiem." These were
sung under his direction before the Commission. Their magnificence and
purity revealed to the censors the possibilities of contrapuntal music
in sanctuary devotion and praise. The sanction of the cardinals was
given--and part-song harmony became permanently one of the angel voices
of the Christian church.
Palestrina died in 1594, but hymn-tunes adapted from his motets and
masses are sung today. He was the father of the choral tune. He lived to
see musical instruments and congregational singing introduced[1] in
public worship, and to know (possibly with secret pleasure, though he
was a Romanist) how richly in popular assemblies, during the Protestant
Reformation, the new freedom of his helpful art had multiplied the
creation of spiritual hymns.
[Footnote 1: But not fully established in use till about 1625.]
Contemporary in England with Palestrina in Italy was Thomas Tallis who
developed the Anglican school of church music, which differed less from
the Italian (or Catholic) psalmody than that of the Continental
churches, where the revolt of the Reformation extended to the
tune-worship as notably as to the sacraments and sermons. This
difference created a division of method and practice even in England,
and extreme Protestants who repudiated everything artistic or ornate
formed the Puritan or Genevan School. Their style is represented among
our hymn-tunes by "Old Hundred," while the representative of the
Anglican is "Tallis' Evening Hymn." The division was only temporary. The
two schools were gradually reconciled, and together made the model after
which the best sacred tunes are built. It is Tallis who is called "The
father of English Cathedral music."
In Germany, after the invention of harmony, church music was still felt
to be too formal for a working force, and there was a reaction against
the motets and masses of Palestrina as being too stately and difficult.
Lighter airs of the popular sort, such as were sung between the acts of
the "mystery plays," were subsidized by Luther, who wrote compositions
and translations to their measure. Part-song was simplified, and Johan
Walther compiled a hymnal of religious songs in the vernacular for from
four to six voices. The reign of rhythmic hymn music soon extended
through Europe.
Necessarily--except in ultra-conservative localities like Scotland--the
exclusive use of the Psalms (metrical or unmetrical) gave way to
religious lyrics inspired by occasion. Clement Marot and Theodore Beza
wrote hymns to the music of various composers, and Caesar Malan composed
both hymns and their melodies. By the beginning of the 18th century the
triumph of the hymn-tune and the hymnal for lay voices was established
for all time.
* * * * *
In the following pages no pretence is made of selecting _all_ the best
and most-used hymns, but the purpose has been to notice as many as
possible of the standard pieces--and a few others which seem to add or
re-shape a useful thought or introduce a new strain.
To present each hymn _with its tune_ appeared the natural and most
satisfactory way, as in most cases it is impossible to dissociate the
two. The melody is the psychological coefficient of the metrical text.
Without it the verse of a seraph would be smothered praise. Like a
flower and its fragrance, hymn and tune are one creature, and stand for
a whole value and a full effect. With this normal combination a
_complete_ descriptive list of the hymns and tunes would be a historic
dictionary. Such a book may one day be made, but the present volume is
an attempt to the same end within easier limits.
CHAPTER I.
HYMNS OF PRAISE AND WORSHIP.
"TE DEUM LAUDAMUS."
This famous church confession in song was composed A.D. 387 by Ambrose,
Bishop of Milan, probably both words and music.
Te Deum laudamus, Te Dominum confitemur
Te aeternum Patrem omnis terra veneratur
Tibi omnes angeli, tibi coeli et universae potestates,
Tibi cherubim et seraphim inaccessibili voce proclamant
Sanctus, sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
In the whole hymn there are thirty lines. The saying that the early
Roman hymns were echoes of Christian Greece, as the Greek hymns were
echoes of Jerusalem, is probably true, but they were only echoes. In
A.D. 252, St. Cyprian, writing his consolatory epistle[2] during the
plague in Carthage, when hundreds were dying every day, says, "Ah,
perfect and perpetual bliss! [in heaven.] There is the glorious company
of the apostles; there is the fellowship of the prophets rejoicing;
there is the innumerable multitude of martyrs crowned." Which would
suggest that lines or fragments of what afterwards crystalized into the
formula of the "Te Deum" were already familiar in the Christian church.
But it is generally believed that the tongue of Ambrose gave the anthem
its final form.
[Footnote 2: [Greek: Peri tou thnetou], "On the Mortality."]
Ambrose was born in Gaul about the middle of the fourth century and
raised to his bishopric in A.D. 374. Very early he saw and appreciated
the popular effect of musical sounds, and what an evangelical instrument
a chorus of chanting voices could be in preaching the Christian faith;
and he introduced the responsive singing of psalms and sacred cantos in
the worship of the church. "A grand thing is that singing, and nothing
can stand before it," he said, when the critics of his time complained
that his innovation was sensational. That such a charge could be made
against the Ambrosian mode of music, with its slow movement and
unmetrical lines, seems strange to us, but it was _new_--and
conservatism is the same in all ages.
The great bishop carried all before him. His school of song-worship
prevailed in Christian Europe more than two hundred years. Most of his
hymns are lost, (the Benedictine writers credit him with twelve), but,
judging by their effect on the powerful mind of Augustine, their
influence among the common people must have been profound, and far more
lasting than the author's life. "Their voices sank into mine ears, and
their truths distilled into my heart," wrote Augustine, long afterwards,
of these hymns; "tears ran down, and I rejoiced in them."
Poetic tradition has dramatized the story of the birth of the "Te Deum,"
dating it on an Easter Sunday, and dividing the honor of its composition
between Ambrose and his most eminent convert. It was the day when the
bishop baptized Augustine, in the presence of a vast throng that crowded
the Basilica of Milan. As if foreseeing with a prophet's eye that his
brilliant candidate would become one of the ruling stars of Christendom,
Ambrose lifted his hands to heaven and chanted in a holy rapture,--
We praise Thee, O God! We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord;
All the Earth doth worship Thee, the Father Everlasting.
He paused, and from the lips of the baptized disciple came the
response,--
To Thee all the angels cry aloud: the heavens and all the powers
therein.
To Thee cherubim and seraphim continually do cry,
"Holy, holy, holy Lord God of Sabaoth;
Heaven and Earth are full of the majesty of Thy glory!"
and so, stave by stave, in alternating strains, sprang that day from the
inspired lips of Ambrose and Augustine the "Te Deum Laudamus," which has
ever since been the standard anthem of Christian praise.
Whatever the foundation of the story, we may at least suppose the first
public singing[3] of the great chant to have been associated with that
eventful baptism.
[Footnote 3: The "Te Deum" was first sung _in English_ by the martyr,
Bishop Ridley, at Hearne Church, where he was at one time vicar.]
The various anthems, sentences and motets in all Christian languages
bearing the titles "Trisagion" or "Tersanctus," and "Te Deum" are taken
from portions of this royal hymn. The sublime and beautiful "Holy, Holy,
Holy" of Bishop Heber was suggested by it.
_THE TUNE._
No echo remains, so far as is known, of the responsive chant actually
sung by Ambrose, but one of the best modern choral renderings of the "Te
Deum" is the one by Henry Smart in his _Morning and Evening Service_. In
an ordinary church hymnal it occupies seven pages. The staff-directions
with the music indicate the part or cue of the antiphonal singers by the
words Decani (Dec.) and Cantor (Can.), meaning first the division of the
choir on the Dean's side, and second the division on the Cantor's or
Precentor's side.
Henry Smart was one of the five great English composers that followed
our American Mason. He was born in London, Oct. 25, 1812, and chose
music for a profession in preference to an offered commission in the
East Indian army. His talent as a composer, especially of sacred music,
was marvellous, and, though he became blind, his loss of sight was no
more hindrance to his genius than loss of hearing to Beethoven.
No composer of his time equalled Henry Smart as a writer of music for
female voices. His cantatas have been greatly admired, and his hymn
tunes are unsurpassed for their purity and sweetness, while his anthems,
his oratorio of "Jacob," and indeed all that he wrote, show the hand and
the inventive gift of a great musical artist.
He died July 10, 1879, universally mourned for his inspired work, and
his amiable character.
"ALL GLORY, LAUD AND HONOR."
_Gloria, Laus et Honor._
This stately Latin hymn of the early part of the 9th century was
composed in A.D. 820, by Theodulph, Bishop of Orleans, while a captive
in the cloister of Anjou. King Louis (le Debonnaire) son of Charlemagne,
had trouble with his royal relatives, and suspecting Theodulph to be in
sympathy with them, shut him up in prison. A pretty story told by
Clichtovius, an old church writer of A.D. 1518, relates how on Palm
Sunday the king, celebrating the feast with his people, passed in
procession before the cloister, where the face of the venerable prisoner
at his cell window caused an involuntary halt, and, in the moment of
silence, the bishop raised his voice and sang this hymn; and how the
delighted king released the singer, and restored him to his bishopric.
This tale, told after seven hundred years, is not the only legend that
grew around the hymn and its author, but the fact that he composed it in
the cloister of Anjou while confined there is not seriously disputed.
Gloria, laus et honor Tibi sit, Rex Christe Redemptor,
Cui puerile decus prompsit Hosanna pium.
Israel Tu Rex, Davidis et inclyta proles,
Nomine qui in Domini Rex benedicte venis
Gloria, laus et honor.
Theodulph was born in Spain, but of Gothic pedigree, a child of the race
of conquerors who, in the 5th century, overran Southern Europe. He died
in 821, but whether a free man or still a prisoner at the time of his
death is uncertain. Some accounts allege that he was poisoned in the
cloister. The Roman church canonized him, and his hymn is still sung as
a processional in Protestant as well as Catholic churches. The above
Latin lines are the first four of the original seventy-eight. The
following is J.M. Neale's translation of the portion now in use:
All glory, laud, and honor,
To Thee, Redeemer, King:
To whom the lips of children
Made sweet Hosannas ring.
Thou are the King of Israel,
Thou David's royal Son,
Who in the Lord's name comest,
The King and Blessed One. All glory, etc.
The company of angels
Are praising Thee on high;
And mortal men, and all things
Created, make reply. All glory, etc.
The people of the Hebrews
With palms before Thee went;
Our praise and prayer and anthems
Before Thee we present. All glory, etc.
To Thee before Thy Passion
They sang their hymns of praise;
To Thee, now high exalted
Our melody we raise. All glory, etc.
Thou didst accept their praises;
Accept the prayers we bring,
Who in all good delightest,
Thou good and gracious King. All glory, etc.
The translator, Rev. John Mason Neale, D.D., was born in London, Jan.
24, 1818, and graduated at Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1840. He was a
prolific writer, and after taking holy orders he held the office of
Warden of Sackville College, East Grimstead, Sussex. Best known among
his published works are _Mediaeval Hymns and Sequences_, _Hymns for
Children_, _Hymns of the Eastern Church_ and _The Rhythms of Morlaix_.
He died Aug. 6, 1866.
_THE TUNE._
There is no certainty as to the original tune of Theodulph's Hymn, or
how long it survived, but various modern composers have given it music
in more or less keeping with its character, notably Melchior Teschner,
whose harmony, "St. Theodulph," appears in the new _Methodist Hymnal_.
It well represents the march of the bishop's Latin.
Melchior Teschner, a Prussian musician, was Precentor at Frauenstadt,
Silesia, about 1613.
"ALL PRAISE TO THEE, ETERNAL LORD."
_Gelobet Seist du Jesu Christ._
This introductory hymn of worship, a favorite Christmas hymn in Germany,
is ancient, and appears to be a versification of a Latin prose
"Sequence" variously ascribed to a 9th century author, and to Gregory
the Great in the 6th century. Its German form is still credited to
Luther in most hymnals. Julian gives an earlier German form (1370) of
the "Gelobet," but attributes all but the first stanza to Luther, as the
hymn now stands. The following translation, printed first in the
_Sabbath Hymn Book_, Andover, 1858, is the one adopted by Schaff in his
_Christ in Song_:
All praise to Thee, eternal Lord,
Clothed in the garb of flesh and blood;
Choosing a manger for Thy throne,
While worlds on worlds are Thine alone!
Once did the skies before Thee bow;
A virgin's arms contain Thee now;
Angels, who did in Thee rejoice,
Now listen for Thine infant voice.
A little child, Thou art our guest,
That weary ones in Thee may rest;
Forlorn and lowly in Thy birth,
That we may rise to heaven from earth.
Thou comest in the darksome night,
To make us children of the light;
To make us, in the realms divine,
Like Thine own angels round Thee shine.
All this for us Thy love hath done:
By this to Thee our love is won;
For this we tune our cheerful lays,
And shout our thanks in endless praise.
_THE TUNE._
The 18th century tune of "Weimar" (_Evangelical Hymnal_), by Emanuel
Bach, suits the spiritual tone of the hymn, and suggests the Gregorian
dignity of its origin.
Karl Philip Emanuel Bach, called "the Berlin Bach" to distinguish him
from his father, the great Sebastian Bach of Saxe Weimar, was born in
Weimar, March 14, 1714. He early devoted himself to music, and coming to
Berlin when twenty-four years old was appointed Chamber musician (Kammer
Musicus) in the Royal Chapel, where he often accompanied Frederick the
Great (who was an accomplished flutist) on the harpsichord. His most
numerous compositions were piano music but he wrote a celebrated
"Sanctus," and two oratorios, besides a number of chorals, of which
"Weimar" is one. He died in Hamburg, Dec. 14, 1788.
THE MAGNIFICAT.
[Greek: Megalunei he psuche mou ton Kurion.]
Magnificat anima mea Dominum,
Et exultavit Spiritus meus in Deo salutari meo.
Luke 1:46-55.
We can date with some certainty the hymn itself composed by the Virgin
Mary, but when it first became a song of the Christian Church no one can
tell. Its thanksgiving may have found tone among the earliest martyrs,
who, as Pliny tells us, sang hymns in their secret worship. We can only
trace it back to the oldest chant music, when it was doubtless sung by
both the Eastern and Western Churches. In the rude liturgies of the 4th
and 5th centuries it must have begun to assume ritual form; but it
remained for the more modern school of composers hundreds of years later
to illustrate the "Magnificat" with the melody of art and genius.
Superseding the primitive unisonous plain-song, the old parallel
concords, and the simple faburden (faux bourdon) counterpoint that
succeeded Gregory, they taught how musical tones can better assist
worship with the beauty of harmony and the precision of scientific
taste. Musicians in Italy, France, Germany and England have contributed
their scores to this inspired hymn. Some of them still have place in the
hymnals, a noble one especially by the blind English tone-master, Henry
Smart, author of the oratorio of "Jacob." None, however, have equaled
the work of Handel. His "Magnificat" was one of his favorite
productions, and he borrowed strains from it in several of his later and
lesser productions.
George Frederic Handel, author of the immortal "Messiah," was born at
Halle, Saxony, in 1685, and died in London in 1759. The musical bent of
his genius was apparent almost from his infancy. At the age of eighteen
he was earning his living with his violin, and writing his first opera.
After a sojourn in Italy, he settled in Hanover as Chapel Master to the
Elector, who afterwards became the English king, George I. The
friendship of the king and several of his noblemen drew him to England,
where he spent forty-seven years and composed his greatest works.
He wrote three hymn-tunes (it is said at the request of a converted
actress), "Canons," "Fitzwilliam," and "Gopsall," the first an
invitation, "Sinners, Obey the Gospel Word," the second a meditation, "O
Love Divine, How Sweet Thou Art," and the third a resurrection song to
Welsey's words "Rejoice, the Lord is King." This last still survives in
some hymnals.
THE DOXOLOGIES.
Be Thou, O God, exalted high,
And as Thy glory fills the sky
So let it be on earth displayed
Till Thou art here as there obeyed.
This sublime quatrain, attributed to Nahum Tate, like the Lord's Prayer,
is suited to all occasions, to all Christian denominations, and to all
places and conditions of men. It has been translated into all civilized
languages, and has been rising to heaven for many generations from
congregations round the globe wherever the faith of Christendom has
built its altars. This doxology is the first stanza of a sixteen line
hymn (possibly longer originally), the rest of which is forgotten.
Nahum Tate was born in Dublin, in 1652, and educated there at Trinity
College. He was appointed poet-laureate by King William III. in 1690,
and it was in conjunction with Dr. Nicholas Brady that he executed his
"New" metrical version of the Psalms. The entire Psalter, with an
appendix of Hymns, was licensed by William and Mary and published in
1703. The _hymns_ in the volume are all by Tate. He died in London, Aug.
12, 1717.
Rev. Nicholas Brady, D.D., was an Irishman, son of an officer in the
royal army, and was born at Bandon, County of Cork, Oct. 28, 1659. He
studied in the Westminster School at Oxford, but afterwards entered
Trinity College, Dublin, where he graduated in 1685. William made him
Queen Mary's Chaplain. He died May 20, 1726.
The other nearly contemporary form of doxology is in common use, but
though elevated and devotional in spirit, it cannot be universal, owing
to its credal line being objectionable to non-Trinitarian Protestants:
Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him all creatures here below,
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
The author, the Rev. Thomas Ken, was born in Berkhampstead,
Hertfordshire, Eng., July, 1637, and was educated at Winchester School,
Hertford College, and New College, Oxford. In 1662 he took holy orders,
and seventeen years later the king (Charles II.) appointed him chaplain
to his sister Mary, Princess of Orange. Later the king, just before his
death, made him Bishop of Bath and Wells.
Like John the Baptist, and Bourdaloue, and Knox, he was a faithful
spiritual monitor and adviser during all his days at court. "I must go
in and hear Ken tell me my faults," the king used to say at chapel time.
The "good little man" (as he called the bishop) never lost the favor of
the dissipated monarch. As Macaulay says, "Of all the prelates, he liked
Ken the best."
Under James, the Papist, Ken was a loyal subject, though once arrested
as one of the "seven bishops" for his opposition to the king's religion,
and he kept his oath of allegiance so firmly that it cost him his place.
William III. deprived him of his bishopric, and he retired in poverty to
a home kindly offered him by Lord Viscount Weymouth in Longleat, near
Frome, in Somersetshire, where he spent a serene and beloved old age. He
died aet. seventy-four, March 17, 1711 (N.S.), and was carried to his
grave, according to his request, by "six of the poorest men in the
parish."
His great doxology is the refrain or final stanza of each of his three
long hymns, "Morning," "Evening" and "Midnight," printed in a _Prayer
Manual_ for the use of the students of Winchester College. The "Evening
Hymn" drew scenic inspiration, it is told, from the lovely view in
Horningsham Park at "Heaven's Gate Hill," while walking to and from
church.
Another four-line doxology, adopted probably from Dr. Hatfield
(1807-1883), is almost entirely superseded by Ken's stanza, being of
even more pronounced credal character.
To God the Father, God the Son,
And God the Spirit, Three in One.
Be honor, praise and glory given
By all on earth and all in heaven.
The _Methodist Hymnal_ prints a collection of ten doxologies, two by
Watts, one by Charles Wesley, one by John Wesley, one by William Goode,
one by Edwin F. Hatfield, one attributed to "Tate and Brady," one by
Robert Hawkes, and the one by Ken above noted. These are all technically
and intentionally doxologies. To give a history of doxologies in the
general sense of the word would carry one through every Christian age
and language and end with a concordance of the Book of Psalms.
[Illustration: Oliver Holden]
_THE TUNE._
Few would think of any music more appropriate to a standard doxology
than "Old Hundred." This grand Gregorian harmony has been claimed to be
Luther's production, while some have believed that Louis Bourgeois,
editor of the French _Genevan Psalter_, composed the tune, but the
weight of evidence seems to indicate that it was the work of Guillaume
le Franc, (William Franck or William the Frenchman,) of Rouen, in
France, who founded a music school in Geneva, 1541. He was Chapel Master
there, but removed to Lausanne, where he played in the Catholic choir
and wrote the tunes for an Edition of Marot's and Beza's Psalms. Died in
Lausanne, 1570.
"THE LORD DESCENDED FROM ABOVE."
A flash of genuine inspiration was vouchsafed to Thomas Sternhold when
engaged with Rev. John Hopkins in versifying the Eighteenth Psalm. The
ridicule heaped upon Sternhold and Hopkins's psalmbook has always
stopped, and sobered into admiration and even reverence at the two
stanzas beginning with this leading line--
The Lord descended from above
And bowed the heavens most high,
And underneath His feet He cast
The darkness of the sky.
On cherub and on cherubim
Full royally He rode,
And on the wings of mighty winds
Came flying all abroad.
Thomas Sternhold was born in Gloucestershire, Eng. He was Groom of the
Robes to Henry VIII, and Edward VI., but is only remembered for his
_Psalter_ published in 1562, thirteen years after his death in 1549.
_THE TUNE._
"Nottingham" (now sometimes entitled "St. Magnus") is a fairly good echo
of the grand verses, a dignified but spirited choral in A flat. Jeremiah
Clark, the composer, was born in London, 1670. Educated at the Chapel
Royal, he became organist of Winchester College and finally to St.
Paul's Cathedral where he was appointed Gentleman of the Chapel. He died
July, 1707.
The tune of "Majesty" by William Billings will be noticed in a later
chapter.
TALLIS' EVENING HYMN.
Glory to Thee, my God, this night
For all the blessings of the light,
Keep me, O keep me, King of kings,
Under Thine own Almighty wings.
This stanza begins the second of Bp. Ken's three beautiful hymn-prayers
in his _Manual_ mentioned on a previous page.
_THE TUNE._
For more than three hundred and fifty years devout people have enjoyed
that melody of mingled dignity and sweetness known as "Tallis' Evening
Hymn."
Thomas Tallis was an Englishman, born about 1520, and at an early age
was a boy chorister at St. Paul's. After his voice changed, he played
the organ at Waltham Abbey, and some time later was chosen organist
royal to Queen Elizabeth. His pecuniary returns for his talent did not
make him rich, though he bore the title after 1542 of Gentleman of the
Chapel Royal, for his stipend was sevenpence a day. Some gain may
possibly have come to him, however, from his publication, late in life,
under the queen's special patent, of a collection of hymns and tunes.
He wrote much and was the real founder of the English Church school of
composers, but though St. Paul's was at one time well supplied with his
motets and anthems, it is impossible now to give a list of Tallis'
compositions for the Church. His music was written originally to Latin
words, but when, after the Reformation, the use of vernacular hymns, was
introduced he probably adapted his scores to either language.
It is inferred that he was in attendance on Queen Elizabeth at her
palace in Greenwich when he died, for he was buried in the old parish
church there in November, 1585. The rustic rhymer who indited his
epitaph evidently did the best he could to embalm the virtues of the
great musician as a man, a citizen, and a husband:
Enterred here doth ly a worthy wyght,
Who for long time in musick bore the bell:
His name to shew was Thomas Tallis hyght;
In honest vertuous lyff he dyd excell.
He served long tyme in chappel with grete prayse,
Fower sovereygnes reignes, (a thing not often seene);
I mean King Henry and Prince Edward's dayes,
Quene Marie, and Elizabeth our quene.
He maryed was, though children he had none,
And lyv'd in love full three and thirty yeres
With loyal spowse, whose name yclept was Jone,
Who, here entombed, him company now bears.
As he dyd lyve, so also dyd he dy,
In myld and quyet sort, O happy man!
To God ful oft for mercy did he cry;
Wherefore he lyves, let Deth do what he can.
"THE GOD OF ABRAHAM PRAISE."
This is one of the thanksgivings of the ages.
The God of Abraham praise,
Who reigns enthroned above;
Ancient of everlasting days,
And God of love.
Jehovah, Great I AM!
By earth and heaven confessed,
I bow and bless the sacred Name,
Forever blest.
The hymn, of twelve eight-line stanzas, is too long to quote entire,
but is found in both the _Plymouth_ and _Methodist Hymnals_.
Thomas Olivers, born in Tregynon, near Newtown, Montgomeryshire, Wales,
1725, was, according to local testimony, "the worst boy known in all
that country, for thirty years." It is more charitable to say that he
was a poor fellow who had no friends. Left an orphan at five years of
age, he was passed from one relative to another until all were tired of
him, and he was "bound out" to a shoemaker. Almost inevitably the
neglected lad grew up wicked, for no one appeared to care for his habits
and morals, and as he sank lower in the various vices encouraged by bad
company, there were more kicks for him than helping hands. At the age of
eighteen his reputation in the town had become so unsavory that he was
forced to shift for himself elsewhere.
Providence led him, when shabby and penniless, to the old seaport town
of Bristol, where Whitefield was at that time preaching,[4] and there
the young sinner heard the divine message that lifted him to his feet.
[Footnote 4: Whitefield's text was, "Is not this a brand plucked out of
the fire?" Zach. 3:2.]
"When that sermon began," he said, "I was one of the most abandoned and
profligate young men living; before it ended I was a new creature. The
world was all changed for Tom Olivers."
His new life, thus begun, lasted on earth more than sixty useful years.
He left a shining record as a preacher of righteousness, and died in the
triumphs of faith, November, 1799. Before he passed away he saw at least
thirty editions of his hymn published, but the soul-music it has
awakened among the spiritual children of Abraham can only reach him in
heaven. Some of its words have been the last earthly song of many, as
they were of the eminent Methodist theologian, Richard Watson--
I shall behold His face,
I shall His power adore,
And sing the wonders of His grace
Forevermore.
_THE TUNE._
The precise date of the tune "Leoni" is unknown, as also the precise
date of the hymn. The story is that Olivers visited the great "Duke's
Place" Synagogue, Aldgate, London, and heard Meyer Lyon (Leoni) sing the
Yigdal or long doxology to an air so noble and impressive that it
haunted him till he learned it and fitted to it the sublime stanzas of
his song. Lyon, a noted Jewish musician and vocalist, was chorister of
this London Synagogue during the latter part of the 18th century and the
Yigdal was a portion of the Hebrew Liturgy composed in medieval times,
it is said, by Daniel Ben Judah. The fact that the Methodist leaders
took Olivers from his bench to be one of their preachers answers any
suggestion that the converted shoemaker _copied_ the Jewish hymn and put
Christian phrases in it. He knew nothing of Hebrew, and had he known
it, a literal translation of the Yigdal will show hardly a similarity to
his evangelical lines. Only the music as Leoni sang it prompted his own
song, and he gratefully put the singer's name to it. Montgomery, who
admired the majestic style of the hymn, and its glorious imagery, said
of its author, "The man who wrote that hymn must have had the finest ear
imaginable, for on account of the peculiar measure, none but a person of
equal musical and poetic taste could have produced the harmony
perceptible in the verse."
Whether the hymnist or some one else fitted the hymn to the tune, the
"fine ear" and "poetic taste" that Montgomery applauded are evident
enough in the union.
"O WORSHIP THE KING ALL GLORIOUS ABOVE."
This hymn of Sir Robert Grant has become almost universally known, and
is often used as a morning or opening service song by choirs and
congregations of all creeds. The favorite stanzas are the first four--
O worship the King all-glorious above,
And gratefully sing His wonderful love--
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days,
Pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise.
O tell of His might, and sing of His grace,
Whose robe is the light, whose canopy, space;
His chariots of wrath the deep thunder-clouds form,
And dark is His path on the wings of the storm.
Thy bountiful care what tongue can recite?
It breathes in the air, it shines in the light,
It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,
And sweetly distils in the dew and the rain.
Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
In Thee do we trust, nor find Thee to fail.
Thy mercies how tender! how firm to the end!
Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend!
This is a model hymn of worship. Like the previous one by Thomas
Olivers, it is strongly Hebrew in its tone and diction, and drew its
inspiration from the Old Testament Psalter, the text-book of all true
praise-song.
Sir Robert Grant was born in the county of Inverness, Scotland, in 1785,
and educated at Cambridge. He was many years member of Parliament for
Inverness and a director in the East India Company, and 1834 was
appointed Governor of Bombay. He died at Dapoorie, Western India, July
9, 1838.
Sir Robert was a man of deep Christian feeling and a poetic mind. His
writings were not numerous, but their thoughtful beauty endeared him to
a wide circle of readers. In 1839 his brother, Lord Glenelg, published
twelve of his poetical pieces, and a new edition in 1868. The volume
contains the more or less well-known hymns--
The starry firmament on high.
Saviour, when in dust to Thee,
and--
When gathering clouds around I view.
Sir Robert's death, when scarcely past his prime, would indicate a
decline by reason of illness, and perhaps other serious affliction, that
justified the poetic license in the submissive verses beginning--
Thy mercy heard my infant prayer.
* * * * *
And now _in age_ and grief Thy name
Does still my languid heart inflame,
And bow my faltering knee.
Oh, yet this bosom feels the fire,
This trembling hand and drooping lyre
Have yet a strain for Thee.
_THE TUNE._
Several musical pieces written to the hymn, "O, Worship the King," have
appeared in church psalm-books, and others have been borrowed for it,
but the one oftenest sung to its words is Haydn's "Lyons." Its vigor and
spirit best fit it for Grant's noble lyric.
"MAJESTIC SWEETNESS SITS ENTHRONED."
Rev. Samuel Stennett D.D., the author of this hymn, was the son of Rev.
Joseph Stennett, and grandson of Rev. Joseph Stennett D.D., who wrote--
Another six days' work is done,
Another Sabbath is begun.
All were Baptist ministers. Samuel was born in 1727, at Exeter, Eng.,
and at the age of twenty-one became his father's assistant, and
subsequently his successor over the church in Little Wild Street,
Lincoln's Inn Fields, London.
Majestic sweetness sits enthroned
Upon the Saviour's brow;
His head with radiant glories crowned,
His lips with grace o'erflow.
* * * * *
To Him I owe my life and breath
And all the joys I have;
He makes me triumph over death,
He saves me from the grave.
* * * * *
Since from His bounty I receive
Such proofs of love divine,
Had I a thousand hearts to give,
Lord, they should all be Thine.
Samuel Stennett was one of the most respected and influential ministers
of the Dissenting persuasion, and a confidant of many of the most
distinguished statesmen of his time. The celebrated John Howard was his
parishoner and intimate friend. His degree of Doctor of Divinity was
bestowed upon him by Aberdeen University. Besides his theological
writings he composed and published thirty-eight hymns, among them--
On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,
When two or three with sweet accord,
Here at Thy table, Lord, we meet,
and--
"'Tis finished," so the Saviour cried.
"Majestic Sweetness" began the third stanza of his longer hymn--
To Christ the Lord let every tongue.
Dr. Stennett died in London, Aug. 24, 1795.
_THE TUNE._
For fifty or sixty years "Ortonville" has been linked with this devout
hymn, and still maintains its fitting fellowship. The tune, composed in
1830, was the work of Thomas Hastings, and is almost as well-known and
as often sung as his immortal "Toplady." (See chap. 3, "Rock of Ages.")
"ALL HAIL THE POWER OF JESUS' NAME."
This inspiring lyric of praise appears to have been written about the
middle of the eighteenth century. Its author, the Rev. Edward Perronet,
son of Rev. Vincent Perronet, Vicar of Shoreham, Eng., was a man of
great faith and humility but zealous in his convictions, sometimes to
his serious expense. He was born in 1721, and, though eighteen years
younger than Charles Wesley, the two became bosom friends, and it was
under the direction of the Wesleys that Perronet became a preacher in
the evangelical movement. Lady Huntingdon later became his patroness,
but some needless and imprudent expressions in a satirical poem, "The
Mitre," revealing his hostility to the union of church and state, cost
him her favor, and his contention against John Wesley's law that none
but the regular parish ministers had the right to administer the
sacraments, led to his complete separation from both the Wesleys. He
subsequently became the pastor of a small church of Dissenters in
Canterbury, where he died, in January, 1792. His piety uttered itself
when near his happy death, and his last words were a Gloria.
All hail the power of Jesus' name!
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
To crown Him Lord of all.
Ye seed of Israel's chosen race,
Ye ransomed of the fall,
Hail Him Who saves you by His grace,
And crown Him Lord of all.
Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget
The wormwood and the gall,
Go, spread your trophies at His feet,
And crown Him Lord of all.
Let every tribe and every tongue
That bound creation's call,
Now shout the universal song,
The crowned Lord of all.
With two disused stanzas omitted, the hymn as it stands differs from the
original chiefly in the last stanza, though in the second the initial
line is now transposed to read--
Ye chosen seed of Israel's race.
The fourth stanza now reads--
Let every kindred, every tribe
On this terrestrial ball
To Him all majesty ascribe,
And crown Him Lord of all.
And what is now the favorite last stanza is the one added by Dr.
Rippon--
O that with yonder sacred throng
We at His feet may fall,
And join the everlasting song,
And crown Him Lord of all.
_THE TUNE._
Everyone now calls it "Old Coronation," and it is entitled to the
adjective by this time, being considerably more than a hundred years
of age. It was composed in the very year of Perronet's death and one
wonders just how long the hymn and tune waited before they came
together; for Heaven evidently meant them to be wedded for all time.
This is an American opinion, and no reflection on the earlier English
melody of "Miles Lane," composed during Perronet's lifetime by William
Shrubsole and published with the words in 1780 in the _Gospel Magazine_.
There is also a fine processional tune sung in the English Church to
Perronet's hymn.
The author of "Coronation" was Oliver Holden, a self-taught musician,
born in Shirley, Mass., 1765, and bred to the carpenter's trade. The
little pipe organ on which tradition says he struck the first notes of
the famous tune is now in the Historical rooms of the Old State House,
Boston, placed there by its late owner, Mrs. Fanny Tyler, the old
musician's granddaughter. Its tones are as mellow as ever, and the times
that "Coronation" has been played upon it by admiring visitors would far
outnumber the notes of its score.
Holden wrote a number of other hymn-tunes, among which "Cowper,"
"Confidence," and "Concord" are remembered, but none of them had the
wings of "Coronation," his American "Te Deum." His first published
collection was entitled _The American Harmony_, and this was followed by
the _Union Harmony_, and the _Worcester Collection_. He also wrote and
published "Mt. Vernon," and several other patriotic anthems, mainly for
special occasions, to some of which he supplied the words. He was no
hymnist, though he did now and then venture into sacred metre. The new
_Methodist Hymnal_ preserves a simple four-stanza specimen of his
experiments in verse:
They who seek the throne of grace
Find that throne in every place:
If we lead a life of prayer
God is present everywhere.
Sacred music, however, was the good man's passion to the last. He died
in 1844.
"Such beautiful themes!" he whispered on his death bed, "Such beautiful
themes! But I can write no more."
The enthusiasm always and everywhere aroused by the singing of
"Coronation," dates from the time it first went abroad in America in
its new wedlock of music and words. "This tune," says an accompanying
note over the score in the old _Carmina Sacra_, "was a great favorite
with the late Dr. Dwight of Yale College (1798). It was often sung by
the college choir, while he, catching, as it were, the music of the
heavenly world, would join them, and lead with the most ardent
devotion."
"AWAKE AND SING THE SONG."
This hymn of six stanzas is abridged from a longer one indited by the
Rev. William Hammond, and published in _Lady Huntingdon's Hymn-book_. It
was much in use in early Methodist revivals. It appears now as it was
slightly altered by Rev. Martin Madan--
Awake and sing the song
Of Moses and the Lamb;
Join every heart and every tongue
To praise the Savior's name.
* * * * *
The sixth verse is a variation of one of Watts' hymns, and was added in
the _Brethren's Hymn-book_, 1801--
There shall each heart and tongue
His endless praise proclaim,
And sweeter voices join the song
Of Moses and the Lamb.
The Rev. William Hammond was born Jan. 6, 1719, at Battle, Sussex, Eng.,
and educated at St. John's College, Cambridge. Early in his ministerial
life he was a Calvinistic Methodist, but ultimately joined the
Moravians. Died in London, Aug. 19, 1793. His collection of _Psalms and
Hymns and Spiritual Songs_ was published in 1745.
The Rev. Martin Madan, son of Col. Madan, was born 1726. He founded Lock
Hospital, Hyde Park, and long officiated as its chaplain. As a preacher
he was popular, and his reputation as a composer of music was
considerable. There is no proof that he wrote any original hymns, but he
amended, pieced and expanded the work of others. Died in 1770.
_THE TUNE._
The hymn has had a variety of musical interpretations. The more modern
piece is "St. Philip," by Edward John Hopkins, Doctor of Music, born at
Westminster, London, June 30, 1818. From a member of the Chapel Royal
boy choir he became organist of the Michtam Church, Surrey, and
afterwards of the Temple Church, London. Received his Doctor's degree
from the Archbishop of Canterbury in 1882.
[Illustration: Joseph Haydn]
"CROWN HIS HEAD WITH ENDLESS BLESSING."
The writer of this hymn was William Goode, who helped to found the
English Church Missionary Society, and was for twenty years the
Secretary of the "Society for the Relief of Poor Pious Clergymen." For
celebrating the praise of the Saviour, he seems to have been of like
spirit and genius with Perronet. He was born in Buckingham, Eng., April
2, 1762; studied for the ministry and became a curate, successor of
William Romaine. His spiritual maturity was early, and his habits of
thought were formed amid associations such as the young Wesleys and
Whitefield sought. Like them, even in his student days he proved his
aspiration for purer religious life by an evangelical zeal that cost him
the ridicule of many of his school-fellows, but the meetings for
conference and prayer which he organized among them were not unattended,
and were lasting and salutary in their effect.
Jesus was the theme of his life and song, and was his last word. He died
in 1816.
Crown His head with endless blessing
Who in God the Father's name
With compassion never ceasing
Comes salvation to proclaim.
Hail, ye saints who know His favor,
Who within His gates are found.
Hail, ye saints, th' exalted Saviour,
Let His courts with praise resound.
_THE TUNE._
"Haydn," bearing the name of its great composer, is in several important
hymnals the chosen music for William Goode's devout words. Its strain
and spirit are lofty and melodious and in entire accord with the pious
poet's praise.
Joseph Haydn, son of a poor wheelwright, was born 1732, in Rohron, a
village on the borders of Hungary and Austria. His precocity of musical
talent was such that he began composing at the age of ten years. Prince
Esterhazy discovered his genius when he was poor and friendless, and his
fortune was made. While Music Master for the Prince's Private Chapel
(twenty years) he wrote many of his beautiful symphonies which placed
him among the foremost in that class of music. Invited to England, he
received the Doctor's degree at Oxford, and composed his great oratorio
of "The Creation," besides his "Twelve Grand Symphonies," and a long
list of minor musical works secular and sacred. His invention was
inexhaustible.
Haydn seems to have been a sincerely pious man. When writing his great
oratorio of "The Creation" at sixty-seven years of age, "I knelt down
every day," he says, "and prayed God to strengthen me for my work." This
daily spiritual preparation was similar to Handel's when he was creating
his "Messiah." Change one word and it may be said of sacred music as
truly as of astronomy, "The undevout composer is mad."
Near Haydn's death, in Vienna, 1809, when he heard for the last time his
magnificent chorus, "Let there be Light!" he exclaimed, "Not mine, not
mine. It all came to me from above."
"NOW TO THE LORD A NOBLE SONG."
When Watts finished this hymn he had achieved a "noble song," whether he
was conscious of it or not; and it deserves a foremost place, where it
can help future worshippers in their praise as it has the past. It is
not so common in the later hymnals, but it is imperishable, and still
later collections will not forget it.
Now to the Lord a noble song,
Awake my soul, awake my tongue!
Hosanna to the Eternal Name,
And all His boundless love proclaim.
See where it shines in Jesus' face,
The brightest image of His grace!
God in the person of His Son
Has all His mightiest works outdone.
A rather finical question has occurred to some minds as to the theology
of the word "works" in the last line, making the second person in the
Godhead apparently a creature; and in a few hymn-books the previous line
has been made to read--
God in the _Gospel_ of His Son.
But the question is a rhetorical one, and the poet's free
expression--here as in hundreds of other cases--has never disturbed the
general confidence in his orthodoxy.
Montgomery called Watts "the inventor of hymns in our language," and the
credit stands practically undisputed, for Watts made a hymn style that
no human master taught him, and his model has been the ideal one for
song worship ever since; and we can pardon the climax when Professor
Charles M. Stuart speaks of him as "writer, scholar, thinker and saint,"
for in addition to all the rest he was a very good man.
_THE TUNE._
Old "Ames" was for many years the choir favorite, and the words of the
hymn printed with it in the note-book made the association familiar. It
was, and _is_, an appropriate selection, though in later manuals George
Kingsley's "Ware" is evidently thought to be better suited to the
high-toned verse. Good old tunes never "wear out," but they do go out of
fashion.
The composer of "Ames," Sigismund Neukomm, Chevalier, was born in
Salzburg, Austria, July 10, 1778, and was a pupil of Haydn. Though not a
great genius, his talents procured him access and even intimacy in the
courts of Germany, France, Italy, Portugal and England, and for thirty
years he composed church anthems and oratorios with prodigious industry.
Neukomm's musical productions, numbering no less than one thousand, and
popular in their day, are, however, mostly forgotten, excepting his
oratorio of "David" and one or two hymn-tunes.
George Kingsley, author of "Ware," was born in Northampton, Mass., July
7, 1811. Died in the Hospital, in the same city, March 14, 1884. He
compiled eight books of music for young people and several manuals of
church psalmody, and was for some time a music teacher in Boston, where
he played the organ at the Hollis St. church. Subsequently he became
professor of music in Girard College, Philadelphia, and music instructor
in the public schools, being employed successively as organist (on
Lord's Day) at Dr. Albert Barnes' and Arch St. churches, and finally in
Brooklyn at Dr. Storrs' Church of the Pilgrims. Returned to Northampton,
1853.
"EARLY, MY GOD, WITHOUT DELAY."
This and the five following hymns, all by Watts, are placed in immediate
succession, for unity's sake--with a fuller notice of the greatest of
hymn-writers at the end of the series.
Early, my God, without delay
I haste to seek Thy face,
My thirsty spirit faints away
Without Thy cheering grace.
In the memories of very old men and women, who sang the fugue music of
Morgan's "Montgomery," still lingers the second stanza and some of the
"spirit and understanding" with which it used to be rendered in meeting
on Sunday mornings.
So pilgrims on the scorching sand,
Beneath a burning sky,
Long for a cooling stream at hand
And they must drink or die.
_THE TUNE._
Many of the earlier pieces assigned to this hymn were either too noisy
or too tame. The best and longest-serving is "Lanesboro," which, with
its expressive duet in the middle and its soaring final strain of
harmony, never fails to carry the meaning of the words. It was composed
by William Dixon, and arranged and adapted by Lowell Mason.
William Dixon, an English composer, was a music engraver and publisher,
and author also of several glees and anthems. He was born 1750, and died
about 1825.
Lowell Mason, born in Medfield, Mass., 1792, has been called, not
without reason, "the father of American choir singing." Returning from
Savannah, Ga., where he spent sixteen years of his younger life as clerk
in a bank, he located in Boston (1827), being already known there as the
composer of "The Missionary Hymn." He had not neglected his musical
studies while living in the South, and it was in Savannah that he made
the glorious harmony of that tune.
He became president of the Handel and Haydn Society, went abroad for
special study, was made Doctor of Music, and collected a store of themes
among the great models of song to bring home for his future work.
The Boston Academy of Music was founded by him and what he did for the
song-service of the Church in America by his singing schools, and
musical conventions, and published manuals, to form and organize the
choral branch of divine worship, has no parallel, unless it is Noah
Webster's service to the English language.
Dr. Mason died in Orange, N.J., in 1872.
"SWEET IS THE WORK, MY GOD, MY KING."
This is one of the hymns that helped to give its author the title of
"The Seraphic Watts."
Sweet is the work, my God, my King
To praise Thy name, give thanks and sing
To show Thy love by morning light,
And talk of all Thy truth at night.
_THE TUNE._
No nobler one, and more akin in spirit to the hymn, can be found than
"Duke Street," Hatton's imperishable choral.
Little is known of the John Hatton who wrote "Duke St." He was earlier
by nearly a century than John Liphot Hatton of Liverpool (born in 1809),
who wrote the opera of "Pascal Bruno," the cantata of "Robin Hood" and
the sacred drama of "Hezekiah." The biographical index of the
_Evangelical Hymnal_ says of John Hatton, the author of "Duke St.":
"John, of Warrington; afterwards of St. Helens, then resident in Duke
St. in the township of Windle; composed several hymn-tunes; died in
1793.[5] His funeral sermon was preached at the Presbyterian Chapel, St.
Helens, Dec. 13."
[Footnote 5: Tradition says he was killed by being thrown from a
stage-coach.]
"COME, WE THAT LOVE THE LORD."
Watts entitled this hymn "Heavenly Joy on Earth." He could possibly,
like Madame Guyon, have written such a hymn in a dungeon, but it is no
less spiritual for its birth (as tradition will have it) amid the lovely
scenery of Southampton where he could find in nature "glory begun
below."
Come, we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
And thus surround the throne.
There shall we see His face,
And never, never sin;
There, from the rivers of His grace,
Drink endless pleasures in.
Children of grace have found
Glory begun below:
Celestial fruits on earthly ground
From faith and hope may grow.
Mortality and immortality blend their charms in the next stanza. The
unfailing beauty of the vision will be dwelt upon with delight so long
as Christians sing on earth.
The hill of Sion yields
A thousand sacred sweets,
Before we reach the heavenly fields,
Or walk the golden streets.
_THE TUNE._
"St. Thomas" has often been the interpreter of the hymn, and still
clings to the words in the memory of thousands.
The Italian tune of "Ain" has more music. It is a fugue piece
(simplified in some tune-books), and the joyful traverse of its notes
along the staff in four-four time, with the momentum of a good choir, is
exhilarating in the extreme.
Corelli, the composer, was a master violinist, the greatest of his day,
and wrote a great deal of violin music; and the thought of his glad
instrument may have influenced his work when harmonizing the four voices
of "Ain."
Arcangelo Corelli was born at Fusignano, in 1653. He was a sensitive
artist, and although faultless in Italian music, he was not sure of
himself in playing French scores, and once while performing with Handel
(who resented the slightest error), and once again with Scarlatti,
leading an orchestra in Naples when the king was present, he made a
mortifying mistake. He took the humiliation so much to heart that he
brooded over it till he died, in Rome, Jan. 18, 1717.
For revival meetings the modern tune set to "Come we that love the
Lord," by Robert Lowry, should be mentioned. A shouting chorus is
appended to it, but it has melody and plenty of stimulating motion.
The Rev. Robert Lowry was born in Philadelphia, March 12, 1826, and
educated at Lewisburg, Pa. From his 28th year till his death, 1899, he
was a faithful and successful minister of Christ, but is more widely
known as a composer of sacred music.
"BE THOU EXALTED, O MY GOD."
In this hymn the thought of Watts touches the eternal summits. Taken
from the 57th and 108th Psalms--
Be Thou exalted, O my God,
Above the heavens where angels dwell;
Thy power on earth be known abroad
And land to land Thy wonders tell.
* * * * *
High o'er the earth His mercy reigns,
And reaches to the utmost sky;
His truth to endless years remains
When lower worlds dissolve and die.
_THE TUNE._
Haydn furnished it out of his chorus of morning stars, and it was
christened "Creation," after the name of his great oratorio. It is a
march of trumpets.
"BEFORE JEHOVAH'S AWFUL THRONE."
No one could mistake the style of Watts in this sublime ode. He begins
with his foot on Sinai, but flies to Calvary with the angel preacher
whom St. John saw in his Patmos vision:
Before Jehovah's awful throne
Ye nations bow with sacred joy;
Know that the Lord is God alone;
He can create and He destroy.
His sovereign power without our aid
Made us of clay and formed us men,
And when like wandering sheep we stray,
He brought us to His fold again.
* * * * *
We'll crowd Thy gates with thankful songs,
High as the heaven our voices raise,
And earth with her ten thousand tongues
Shall fill Thy courts with sounding praise.
_TUNE--OLD HUNDRED._
Martin Madan's four-page anthem, "Denmark," has some grand strains in
it, but it is a tune of florid and difficult vocalization, and is now
heard only in Old Folks' Concerts.
* * * * *
The Rev. Isaac Watts, D.D., was born at Southampton, Eng., in 1674. His
father was a deacon of the Independent Church there, and though not an
uncultured man himself, he is said to have had little patience with the
incurable penchant of his boy for making rhymes and verses. We hear
nothing of the lad's mother, but we can fancy her hand and spirit in the
indulgence of his poetic tastes as well as in his religious training.
The tradition handed down from Dr. Price, a colleague of Watts, relates
that at the age of eighteen Isaac became so irritated at the crabbed and
untuneful hymns sung at the Nonconformist meetings that he complained
bitterly of them to his father. The deacon may have felt something as
Dr. Wayland did when a rather "fresh" student criticised the Proverbs,
and hinted that making such things could not be "much of a job," and the
Doctor remarked, "Suppose _you_ make a few." Possibly there was the same
gentle sarcasm in the reply of Deacon Watts to his son, "Make some
yourself, then."
Isaac was in just the mood to take his father at his word, and he
retired and wrote the hymn--
Behold the glories of the Lamb.
There must have been a decent tune to carry it, for it pleased the
worshippers greatly, when it was sung in meeting--and that was the
beginning of Isaac Watts' career as a hymnist.
So far as scholarship was an advantage, the young writer must have been
well equipped already, for as early as the entering of his fifth year he
was learning Latin, and at nine learning Greek; at eleven, French; and
at thirteen, Hebrew. From the day of his first success he continued to
indite hymns for the home church, until by the end of his twenty-second
year he had written one hundred and ten, and in the two following years
a hundred and forty-four more, besides preparing himself for the
ministry. No. 7 in the edition of the first one hundred and ten, was
that royal jewel of all his lyric work--
When I survey the wondrous cross.
Isaac Watts was ordained pastor of an Independent Church in Mark Lane,
London, 1702, but repeated illness finally broke up his ministry, and
he retired, an invalid, to the beautiful home of Sir Thomas Abney at
Theobaldo, invited, as he supposed, to spend a week, but it was really
to spend the rest of his life--thirty-six years.
Numbers of his hymns are cited as having biographical or reminiscent
color. The stanza in--
When I can read my title clear,
--which reads in the original copy,--
Should earth against my soul engage
And _hellish darts be hurled_,
Then I can smile at _Satan's rage_
And face a frowning world,
--is said to have been an allusion to Voltaire and his attack upon the
church, while the calm beauty of the harbor within view of his home is
supposed to have been in his eye when he composed the last stanza,--
There shall I bathe my weary soul
In seas of heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast.
According to the record,--
What shall the dying sinner do?
--was one of his "pulpit hymns," and followed a sermon preached from
Rom. 1:16. Another,--
And is this life prolonged to you?
--after a sermon from 1 Cor. 3:22; and another,--
How vast a treasure we possess,
--enforced his text, "All things are yours." The hymn,--
Not all the blood of beasts
On Jewish altars slain,
--was, as some say, suggested to the writer by a visit to the abattoir
in Smithfield Market. The same hymn years afterwards, discovered, we are
told, in a printed paper wrapped around a shop bundle, converted a
Jewess, and influenced her to a life of Christian faith and sacrifice.
A young man, hardened by austere and minatory sermons, was melted, says
Dr. Belcher, by simply reading,--
Show pity Lord, O Lord, forgive,
Let a repenting sinner live.
--and became partaker of a rich religious experience.
The summer scenery of Southampton, with its distant view of the Isle of
Wight, was believed to have inspired the hymnist sitting at a parlor
window and gazing across the river Itchen, to write the stanza--
Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
Stand drest in living green;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood
While Jordan rolled between.
The hymn, "Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb," was personal, addressed by
Watts "to Lucius on the death of Seneca."
A severe heart-trial was the occasion of another hymn. When a young man
he proposed marriage to Miss Elizabeth Singer, a much-admired young
lady, talented, beautiful, and good. She rejected him--kindly but
finally. The disappointment was bitter, and in the first shadow of it he
wrote,--
How vain are all things here below,
How false and yet how fair.
Miss Singer became the celebrated Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe, the spiritual and
poetic beauty of whose _Meditations_ once made a devotional text-book
for pious souls. Of Dr. Watts and his offer of his hand and heart, she
always said, "I loved the jewel, but I did not admire the casket." The
poet suitor was undersized, in habitually delicate health--and not
handsome.
But the good minister and scholar found noble employment to keep his
mind from preying upon itself and shortening his days. During his long
though afflicted leisure he versified the Psalms, wrote a treatise on
_Logic_, an _Introduction to the Study of Astronomy and Geography_, and
a work _On the Improvement of the Mind_; and died in 1748, at the age of
seventy-four.
"O FOR A THOUSAND TONGUES TO SING."
Charles Wesley, the author of this hymn, took up the harp of Watts when
the older poet laid it down. He was born at Epworth, Eng., in 1708, the
third son of Rev. Samuel Wesley, and died in London, March 29, 1788. The
hymn is believed to have been written May 17, 1739, for the anniversary
of his own conversion:
O for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer's praise,
The glories of my God and King,
And triumphs of His grace.
The remark of a fervent Christian friend, Peter Bohler, "Had I a
thousand tongues I would praise Christ Jesus with them all," struck an
answering chord in Wesley's heart, and he embalmed the wish in his
fluent verse. The third stanza (printed as second in some hymnals), has
made language for pardoned souls for at least four generations:
Jesus! the name that calms our fears
And bids our sorrows cease;
'Tis music in the sinner's ears,
'Tis life and health and peace.
Charles Wesley was the poet of the soul, and knew every mood. In the
words of Isaac Taylor, "There is no main article of belief ... no moral
sentiment peculiarly characteristic of the gospel that does not find
itself ... pointedly and clearly conveyed in some stanza of Charles
Wesley's poetry." And it does not dim the lustre of Watts, considering
the marvellous brightness, versatility and felicity of his greatest
successor, to say of the latter, with the _London Quarterly_, that he
"was, perhaps, the most gifted minstrel of the modern Church."
[Illustration: Charles Wesley]
Most of the hymns of this good man were hymns of experience--and this is
why they are so dear to the Christian heart. The music of eternal life
is in them. The happy glow of a single line in one of them--
Love Divine, all loves excelling,
--thrills through them all. He led a spotless life from youth to old
age, and grew unceasingly in spiritual knowledge and sweetness. His
piety and purity were the weapons that alike humbled his scoffing fellow
scholars at Oxford, and conquered the wild colliers of Kingwood. With
his brother John, through persecution and ridicule, he preached and sang
that Divine Love to his countrymen and in the wilds of America, and on
their return to England his quenchless melodies multiplied till they
made an Evangelical literature around his name. His hymns--he wrote no
less than six thousand--are a liturgy not only for the Methodist Church
but for English-speaking Christendom.
The voices of Wesley and Watts cannot be hidden, whatever province of
Christian life and service is traversed in themes of song, and in these
chapters they will be heard again and again.
A Watts-and-Wesley Scholarship would grace any Theological Seminary, to
encourage the study and discussion of the best lyrics of the two great
Gospel bards.
_THE TUNES._
The musical mouth-piece of "O for a thousand tongues," nearest to its
own date, is old "Azmon" by Carl Glaser (1734-1829), appearing as No. 1
in the _New Methodist Hymnal_. Arranged by Lowell Mason, 1830, it is
still comparatively familiar, and the flavor of devotion is in its tone
and style.
Henry John Gauntlett, an English lawyer and composer, wrote a tune for
it in 1872, noble in its uniform step and time, but scarcely uttering
the hymnist's characteristic ardor.
The tune of "Dedham," by William Gardiner, now venerable but surviving
by true merit, is not unlike "Azmon" in movement and character. Though
less closely associated with the hymn, as a companion melody it is not
inappropriate. But whatever the range of vocalization or the dignity of
swells and cadences, a slow pace of single semibreves or quarters is not
suited to Wesley's hymns. They are flights.
Professor William Gardiner wrote many works on musical subjects early in
the last century, and composed vocal harmonies, secular and sacred. He
was born in Leicester, Eng., March 5, 1770, and died there Nov. 16,
1853.
There is an old-fashioned unction and vigor in the style of
"Peterborough" by Rev. Ralph Harrison (1748-1810) that after all best
satisfies the singer who enters heart and soul into the spirit of the
hymn. _Old Peterborough_ was composed in 1786.
"LORD WITH GLOWING HEART I'D PRAISE THEE."
This was written in 1817 by the author of the "Star Spangled Banner,"
and is a noble American hymn of which the country may well be proud,
both because of its merit and for its birth in the heart of a national
poet who was no less a Christian than a patriot.
Francis Scott Key, lawyer, was born on the estate of his father, John
Ross Key, in Frederick, Md., Aug. 1st, 1779; and died in Baltimore, Jan.
11, 1843. A bronze statue of him over his grave, and another in Golden
Gate Park, San Francisco, represent the nationality of his fame and the
gratitude of a whole land.
Though a slaveholder by inheritance, Mr. Key deplored the existence of
human slavery, and not only originated a scheme of African colonization,
but did all that a model master could do for the chattels on his
plantation, in compliance with the Scripture command,[6] to lighten
their burdens. He helped them in their family troubles, defended them
gratuitously in the courts, and held regular Sunday-school services for
them.
[Footnote 6: Eph. 6:9, Coloss. 4:1.]
Educated at St. John's College, an active member of the Episcopal
Church, he was not only a scholar but a devout and exemplary man.
Lord, with glowing heart I'd praise Thee
For the bliss Thy love bestows,
For the pardoning grace that saves me,
And the peace that from it flows.
Help, O Lord, my weak endeavor;
This dull soul to rapture raise;
Thou must light the flame or never
Can my love be warmed to praise.
Lord, this bosom's ardent feeling
Vainly would my life express;
Low before Thy footstool kneeling,
Deign Thy suppliant's prayer to bless.
Let Thy grace, my soul's chief treasure,
Love's pure flame within me raise,
And, since words can never measure,
Let my life show forth Thy praise.
_THE TUNE._
"St. Chad," a choral in D, with a four-bar unison, in the _Evangelical
Hymnal_, is worthy of the hymn. Richard Redhead, the composer, organist
of the Church of St. Mary Magdalene, Paddington, Eng., was born at
Harrow, Middlesex, March 1, 1820, and educated at Magdalene College,
Oxford. Graduated Bachelor of Music at Oxford, 1871. He published
_Laudes Dominae_, a Gregorian Psalter, 1843, a Book of Tunes for the
_Christian Year_, and is the author of much ritual music.
"HOLY, HOLY, HOLY, LORD GOD ALMIGHTY."
There is nothing so majestic in Protestant hymnology as this Tersanctus
of Bishop Heber.
The Rt. Rev. Reginald Heber, son of a clergyman of the same name, was
born in Malpas, Cheshire, Eng., April 21st, 1783, and educated at
Oxford. He served the church in Hodnet, Shropshire, for about twenty
years, and was then appointed Bishop of Calcutta, E.I. His labors there
were cut short in the prime of his life, his death occurring in 1826, at
Trichinopoly on the 3d of April, his natal month.
His hymns, numbering fifty-seven, were collected by his widow, and
published with his poetical works in 1842.
Holy! holy! holy! Lord God Almighty!
Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee.
Holy! holy! holy! merciful and mighty,
God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity.
Holy! holy! holy! all the saints adore Thee,
Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;
Cherubim and seraphim, falling down before Thee,
Which wert, and art, and evermore shall be.
_THE TUNE._
Grand as the hymn is, it did not come to its full grandeur of sentiment
and sound in song-worship till the remarkable music of Dr. John B. Dykes
was joined to it. None was ever written that in performance illustrates
more admirably the solemn beauty of congregational praise. The name
"Nicaea" attached to the tune means nothing to the popular ear and mind,
and it is known everywhere by the initial words of the first line.
Rev. John Bacchus Dykes, Doctor of Music, was born at
Kingston-upon-Hull, in 1823; and graduated at Cambridge, in 1847. He
became a master of tone and choral harmony, and did much to reform and
elevate congregational psalmody in England. He was perhaps the first to
demonstrate that hymn-tune making can be reduced to a science without
impairing its spiritual purpose. Died Jan. 22, 1876.
"LORD OF ALL BEING, THRONED AFAR."
This noble hymn was composed by Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, born in
Cambridge, Mass., 1809, and graduated at Harvard University. A physician
by profession, he was known as a practitioner chiefly in literature,
being a brilliant writer and long the leading poetical wit of America.
He was, however, a man of deep religious feeling, and a devout attendant
at King's Chapel, Unitarian, in Boston where he spent his life. He held
the Harvard Professorship of Anatomy and Physiology more than fifty
years, but his enduring work is in his poems, and his charming volume,
_The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table_. Died Jan. 22, 1896.
_THE TUNE._
Holmes' hymn is sung in some churches to "Louvan," V.C. Taylor's
admirable praise tune. Other hymnals prefer with it the music of
"Keble," one of Dr. Dykes' appropriate and finished melodies.
Virgil Corydon Taylor, an American vocal composer, was born in
Barkhamstead, Conn., April 2, 1817, died 1891.
CHAPTER II.
SOME HYMNS OF GREAT WITNESSES.
JOHN OF DAMASCUS.
[Greek: Erchesthe, o pistoi,
Anastaseos Hemera.]
John of Damascus, called also St. John of Jerusalem, a theologian and
poet, was the last but one of the Christian Fathers of the Greek Church.
This eminent man was named by the Arabs "Ibn Mansur," Son (Servant?) of
a Conqueror, either in honor of his father Sergius or because it was a
Semitic translation of his family title. He was born in Damascus early
in the 8th century, and seems to have been in favor with the Caliph, and
served under him many years in some important civil capacity, until,
retiring to Palestine, he entered the monastic order, and late in life
was ordained a priest of the Jerusalem Church. He died in the Convent of
St. Sabas near that city about A.D. 780.
His lifetime appears to have been passed in comparative peace. Mohammed
having died before completing the conquest of Syria, the Moslem rule
before whose advance Oriental Christianity was to lose its first field
of triumph had not yet asserted its persecuting power in the north. This
devout monk, in his meditations at St. Sabas, dwelt much upon the birth
and the resurrection of Christ, and made hymns to celebrate them. It was
probably four hundred years before Bonaventura (?) wrote the Christmas
"Adeste Fideles" of the Latin West that John of Damascus composed his
Greek "Adeste Fideles" for a Resurrection song in Jerusalem.
Come ye faithful, raise the strain
Of triumphant gladness.
* * * * *
'Tis the spring of souls today
Christ hath burst His prison;
From the frost and gloom of death
Light and life have risen.
The nobler of the two hymns preserved to us, (or six stanzas of it)
through eleven centuries is entitled "The Day of Resurrection."
The day of resurrection,
Earth, tell its joys abroad:
The Passover of gladness,
The Passover of God.
From death to life eternal,
From earth unto the sky,
Our Christ hath brought us over,
With hymns of victory.
Our hearts be pure from evil,
That we may see aright
The Lord in rays eternal
Of resurrection light;
And, listening to His accents,
May hear, so calm and plain,
His own, "All hail!" and hearing,
May raise the victor-strain.
Now let the heavens be joyful,
Let earth her song begin,
Let all the world keep triumph,
All that dwell therein.
In grateful exultation,
Their notes let all things blend,
For Christ the Lord is risen,
O joy that hath no end!
Both these hymns of John of Damascus were translated by John Mason
Neale.
_THE TUNE._
"The Day of Resurrection" is sung in the modern hymnals to the tune of
"Rotterdam," composed by Berthold of Tours, born in that city of the
Netherlands, Dec. 17, 1838. He was educated at the conservatory in
Leipsic, and later made London his permanent residence, writing both
vocal and instrumental music. Died 1897. "Rotterdam" is a stately,
sonorous piece and conveys the flavor of the ancient hymn.
"Come ye faithful" has for its modern interpreter Sir Arthur Sullivan,
the celebrated composer of both secular and sacred works, but best
known in hymnody as author of the great Christian march, "Onward
Christian Soldiers."
Hymns are known to have been written by the earlier Greek Fathers,
Ephrem Syrus of Mesopotamia (A.D. 307-373), Basil the Great, Bishop of
Cappadocia (A.D. 329-379) Gregory Nazianzen, Bishop of Constantinople
(A.D. 335-390) and others, but their fragments of song which have come
down to us scarcely rank them among the great witnesses--with the
possible exception of the last name. An English scholar, Rev. Allen W.
Chatfield, has translated the hymns extant of Gregory Nazianzen. The
following stanzas give an idea of their quality. The lines are from an
address to the Deity:
How, Unapproached! shall mind of man
Descry Thy dazzling throne,
And pierce and find Thee out, and scan
Where Thou dost dwell alone?
Unuttered Thou! all uttered things
Have had their birth from Thee;
The One Unknown, from Thee the spring
Of all we know and see.
And lo! all things abide in Thee
And through the complex whole,
Thou spreadst Thine own divinity,
Thyself of all the Goal.
This is reverent, but rather philosophical than evangelical, and reminds
us of the Hymn of Aratus, more than two centuries before Christ was
born.
ST. STEPHEN, THE SABAITE.
This pious Greek monk, (734-794,) nephew of St. John of Damascus, spent
his life, from the age of ten, in the monastery of St. Sabas. His sweet
hymn, known in Neale's translation,--
Art thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distrest?
Come to Me, saith One, and coming
Be at rest,
--is still in the hymnals, with the tunes of Dykes, and Sir Henry W.
Baker (1821-1877), Vicar of Monkland, Herefordshire.
KING ROBERT II.
_Veni, Sancte Spiritus._
Robert the Second, surnamed "Robert the Sage" and "Robert the Devout,"
succeeded Hugh Capet, his father, upon the throne of France, about the
year 997. He has been called the gentlest monarch that ever sat upon a
throne, and his amiability of character poorly prepared him to cope with
his dangerous and wily adversaries. His last years were embittered by
the opposition of his own sons, and the political agitations of the
times. He died at Melun in 1031, and was buried at St. Denis.
Robert possessed a reflective mind, and was fond of learning and musical
art. He was both a poet and a musician. He was deeply religious, and,
from unselfish motives, was much devoted to the church.
Robert's hymn, "Veni, Sancte Spiritus," is given below. He himself was a
chorister; and there was no kingly service that he seemed to love so
well. We are told that it was his custom to go to the church of St.
Denis, and in his royal robes, with his crown upon his head, to direct
the choir at matins and vespers, and join in the singing. Few kings have
left a better legacy to the Christian church than his own hymn, which,
after nearly a thousand years, is still an influence in the world:
Come, Thou Holy Spirit, come,
And from Thine eternal home
Shed the ray of light divine;
Come, Thou Father of the poor,
Come, Thou Source of all our store,
Come, within our bosoms shine.
Thou of Comforters the best,
Thou the soul's most welcome Guest,
Sweet Refreshment here below!
In our labor Rest most sweet,
Grateful Shadow from the heat,
Solace in the midst of woe!
Oh, most blessed Light Divine,
Shine within these hearts of Thine,
And our inmost being fill;
If Thou take Thy grace away,
Nothing pure in man will stay,
All our good is turned to ill.
Heal our wounds; our strength renew
On our dryness pour Thy dew;
Wash the stains of guilt away!
Bend the stubborn heart and will,
Melt the frozen, warm the chill,
Guide the steps that go astray.
_Neale's Translation_.
_THE TUNE._
The metre and six-line stanza, being uniform with those of "Rock of
Ages," have tempted some to borrow "Toplady" for this ancient hymn, but
Hastings' tune would refuse to sing other words; and, besides, the
alternate rhymes would mar the euphony. Not unsuitable in spirit are
several existing tunes of the right measure--like "Nassau" or "St.
Athanasius"--but in truth the "Veni, Sancte Spiritus" in English waits
for its perfect setting. Dr. Ray Palmer's paraphrase of it in
sixes-and-fours, to fit "Olivet,"--
Come, Holy Ghost in love, etc.
--is objectionable both because the word Ghost is an archaism in
Christian worship and more especially because Dr. Palmer's altered
version usurps the place of his own hymn. "Olivet" with "My faith looks
up to Thee" makes as inviolable a case of psalmodic monogamy as
"Toplady" with "Rock of Ages."
ST. FULBERT.
"_Chori Cantores Hierusalem Novae._"
St. Fulbert's hymn is a worthy companion of Perronet's "Coronation"--if,
indeed, it was not its original prompter--as King Robert's great litany
was the mother song of Watts' "Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove;" and
the countless other sacred lyrics beginning with similar words. As the
translation stands in the Church of England, there are six stanzas now
sung, though in America but four appear, and not in the same sequence.
The first four of the six in their regular succession are as follows:
Ye choirs of New Jerusalem,
Your sweetest notes employ,
The Paschal victory to hymn
In strains of holy joy.
For Judah's Lion bursts His chains,
Crushing the serpent's head;
And cries aloud, through death's domains
To wake the imprisoned dead.
Devouring depths of hell their prey
At His command restore;
His ransomed hosts pursue their way
Where Jesus goes before.
Triumphant in His glory now,
To Him all power is given;
To Him in one communion bow
All saints in earth and heaven.
Bishop Fulbert, known in the Roman and in the Protestant ritualistic
churches as St. Fulbert of Chartres, was a man of brilliant and
versatile mind, and one of the most eminent prelates of his time. He was
a contemporary of Robert II, and his intimate friend, continuing so
after the Pope (Gregory V.) excommunicated the king for marrying a
cousin, which was forbidden by the canons of the church.
Fulbert was for some time head of the Theological College at Chartres, a
cathedral town of France, anciently the capital of Celtic Gaul, and
afterwards he was consecrated as Bishop of that diocese. He died about
1029.
_THE TUNE._
The modern tone-interpreter of Fulbert's hymn bears the name "La Spezia"
in some collections, and was composed by James Taylor about the time the
hymn was translated into English by Robert Campbell. Research might
discover the ancient tune--for the hymn is said to have been sung in the
English church during Fulbert's lifetime--but the older was little
likely to be the better music. "La Spezia" is a choral of enlivening but
easy chords, and a tread of triumph in its musical motion that suits the
march of "Judah's Lion":
His ransomed hosts pursue their way
Where Jesus goes before.
James Taylor, born 1833, is a Doctor of Music, organist of the
University of Oxford and Director of the Oxford Philharmonic Society.
Robert Campbell, the translator, was a Scotch lawyer, born in Edinburgh,
who besides his work as an advocate wrote original hymns, and in other
ways exercised a natural literary gift. He compiled the excellent
Hymnal of the diocese of St. Andrews, and this was his best work. The
date of his death is given as Dec. 29, 1868.
THOMAS OF CELANO.
Dies irae! dies illa,
Solvet saeclum in favilla,
Teste David cum Sybilla.
Day of wrath! that day of burning,
All the world to ashes turning,
Sung by prophets far discerning.
Latin ecclesiastical poetry reached its high water mark in that awful
hymn. The solitaire of its sphere and time in the novelty of its
rhythmic triplets, it stood a wonder to the church and hierarchy
accustomed to the slow spondees of the ancient chant. There could be
such a thing as a trochaic hymn!--and majestic, too!
It was a discovery that did not stale. The compelling grandeur of the
poem placed it distinct and alone, and the very difficulty of staffing
it for vocal and instrumental use gave it a zest, and helped to keep it
unique through the ages.
Latin hymnody and hymnography, appealing to the popular ear and heart,
had gradually substituted accent for quantity in verse; for the common
people could never be moved by a Christian song in the prosody of the
classics. The religion of the cross, with the song-preaching of its
propagandists, created medieval Latin and made it a secondary
classic--mother of four anthem languages of Western and Southern Europe.
Its golden age was the 12th and 13th centuries. The new and more
flexible school of speech and music in hymn and tune had perfected
rhythmic beauty and brought in the winsome assonance of rhyme.
[Illustration: Dr. Martin Luther]
The "Dies Irae" was born, it is believed, about the year 1255. Its
authorship has been debated, but competent testimony assures us that the
original draft of the great poem was found in a box among the effects of
Thomas di Celano after his death. Thomas--surnamed Thomas of Celano from
his birthplace, the town of Celano in the province of Aquila, Southern
Italy--was the pupil, friend and co-laborer of St. Francis of Assisi,
and wrote his memoirs. He is supposed to have died near the end of the
13th century. That he wrote the sublime judgment song there is now
practically no question.
The label on the discovered manuscript would suggest that the writer did
not consider it either a hymn or a poem. Like the inspired prophets he
had meditated--and while he was musing the fire burned. The only title
he wrote over it was "_Prosa de mortuis_," Prosa (or prosa oratio)--from
_prorsus_, "straight forward"--appears here in the truly conventional
sense it was beginning to bear, but not yet as the antipode of "poetry."
The modest author, unconscious of the magnitude of his work, called it
simply "Plain speech concerning the dead."[7]
[Footnote 7: "Proses" were original passages introduced into
ecclesiastical chants in the 10th century. During and after the 11th
century they were called "Sequences" (i.e. _following_ the "Gospel" in
the liturgy), and were in metrical form, having a prayerful tone.
"Sequentia pro defunctis" was the later title of the "Dies Irae."]
The hymn is much too long to quote entire, but can be found in _Daniel's
Thesaurus_ in any large public library. As to the translations of it,
they number hundreds--in English and German alone, and Italy, Spain and
Portugal have their vernacular versions--not to mention the Greek and
Russian and even the Hebrew. A few stanzas follow, with their renderings
into English (always imperfect) selected almost at random:
Quantus tremor est futurus
Quando Judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!
Tuba mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulcra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum!
O the dread, the contrite kneeling
When the Lord, in Judgment dealing,
Comes each hidden thing revealing!
When the trumpet's awful tone
Through the realms sepulchral blown,
Summons all before the Throne!
The solemn strength and vibration of these tremendous trilineals suffers
no general injury by the variant readings--and there are a good many. As
a sample, the first stanza was changed by some canonical redactor to get
rid of the heathen word Sybilla, and the second line was made the
third:
Dies Irae, dies illa
Crucis expandens vexilla,
Solvet saeclum in favilla.
Day of wrath! that day foretold,
With the cross-flag wide unrolled,
Shall the world in fire enfold!
In some readings the original "in favilla" is changed to "_cum_
favilla," "_with_ ashes" instead of "in ashes"; and "Teste Petro" is
substituted for "Teste David."
_THE TUNE._
The varieties of music set to the "Hymn of Judgment" in the different
sections and languages of Christendom during seven hundred years are
probably as numerous as the pictures of the Holy Family in Christian
art. It is enough to say that one of the best at hand, or, at least,
accessible, is the solemn minor melody of Dr. Dykes in William Henry
Monk's _Hymns Ancient and Modern_. It was composed about the middle of
the last century. Both the _Evangelical_ and _Methodist Hymnals_ have
Dean Stanley's translation of the hymn, the former with thirteen stanzas
(six-line) to a D minor of John Stainer, and the latter to a C major of
Timothy Matthews. The _Plymouth Hymnal_ has seventeen of the trilineal
stanzas, by an unknown translator, to Ferdinand Hiller's tune in F
minor, besides one verse to another F minor--hymn and tune both
nameless.
All the composers above named are musicians of fame. John Stainer,
organist of St. Paul's Cathedral, was a Doctor of Music and Chevalier of
the Legion of Honor, and celebrated for his works in sacred music, to
which he mainly devoted his time. He was born June 6, 1840. He died
March 31, 1901.
Rev. Timothy Richard Matthews, born at Colmworth, Eng., Nov. 20, 1826,
is a clergyman of the Church of England, incumbent of a Lancaster charge
to which he was appointed by Queen Alexandra.
Ferdinand Hiller, born 1811 at Frankfort-on-the-Main, of Hebrew
parentage, was one of Germany's most eminent musicians. For many years
he was Chapel Master at Cologne, and organized the Cologne Conservatory.
His compositions are mostly for instrumental performance, but he wrote
cantatas, motets, male choruses, and two oratorios, one on the
"Destruction of Jerusalem." Died May 10, 1855.
The Very Rev. Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, Dean of Westminster, was an author
and scholar whom all sects of Christians delighted to honor. His
writings on the New Testament and his published researches in Palestine,
made him an authority in Biblical study, and his contributions to sacred
literature were looked for and welcomed as eagerly as a new hymn by
Bonar or a new poem by Tennyson. Dean Stanley was born in 1815, and died
July 18th, 1881.
THOMAS A KEMPIS.
Thomas a Kempis, sub-prior of the Convent of St. Agnes, was born at
Hamerkin, Holland, about the year 1380, and died at Zwoll, 1471. This
pious monk belonged to an order called the "Brethren of the Common Life"
founded by Gerard de Groote, and his fame rests entirely upon his one
book, the _Imitation of Christ_, which continues to be printed as a
religious classic, and is unsurpassed as a manual of private devotion.
His monastic life--as was true generally of the monastic life of the
middle ages--was not one of useless idleness. The Brethren taught school
and did mechanical work. Besides, before the invention of printing had
been perfected and brought into common service, the multiplication of
books was principally the work of monkish pens. Kempis spent his days
copying the Bible and good books--as well as in exercises of devotion
that promoted religious calm.
His idea of heaven, and the idea of his order, was expressed in that
clause of John's description of the City of God, Rev. 22:3, "_and His
servants shall serve Him_." Above all other heavenly joys that was his
favorite thought. We can well understand that the pious quietude wrought
in his mind and manners by his habit of life made him a saint in the
eyes of the people. The frontispiece of one edition of his _Imitatio
Christi_ pictures him as being addressed before the door of a convent
by a troubled pilgrim,--
"O where is peace?--for thou its paths hast trod,"
--and his answer completes the couplet,--
"In poverty, retirement, and with God."
Of all that is best in inward spiritual life, much can be learned from
this inspired Dutchman. He wrote no hymns, but in his old age he
composed a poem on "Heaven's Joys," which is sometimes called "Thomas a
Kempis' Hymn":
High the angel choirs are raising
Heart and voice in harmony;
The Creator King still praising
Whom in beauty there they see.
Sweetest strains from soft harps stealing,
Trumpets' notes of triumph pealing,
Radiant wings and white stoles gleaming
Up the steps of glory streaming;
Where the heavenly bells are ringing;
"Holy! holy! holy!" singing
To the mighty Trinity!
"Holy! holy! holy!" crying,
For all earthly care and sighing
In that city cease to be!
These lines are not in the hymnals of today--and whether they ever found
their way into choral use in ancient times we are not told. Worse poetry
has been sung--and more un-hymnlike. Some future composer will make a
tune to the words of a Christian who stood almost in sight of his
hundredth year--and of the eternal home he writes about.
MARTIN LUTHER.
"_Ein Feste Burg Ist Unser Gott._"
Of Martin Luther Coleridge said, "He did as much for the Reformation by
his hymns as he did by his translation of the Bible." The remark is so
true that it has become a commonplace.
The above line--which may be seen inscribed on Luther's tomb at
Wittenberg--is the opening sentence and key-note of the Reformer's
grandest hymn. The forty-sixth Psalm inspired it, and it is in harmony
with sublime historical periods from its very nature, boldness, and
sublimity. It was written, according to Welles, in the memorable year
when the evangelical princes delivered their protest at the Diet of
Spires, from which the word and the meaning of the word "Protestant" is
derived. "Luther used often to sing it in 1530, while the Diet of
Augsburg was sitting. It soon became the favorite psalm with the people.
It was one of the watchwords of the Reformation, cheering armies to
conflict, and sustaining believers in the hours of fiery trial."
"After Luther's death, Melancthon, his affectionate coadjutor, being one
day at Weimar with his banished friends, Jonas and Creuziger, heard a
little maid singing this psalm in the street, and said, 'Sing on, my
little girl, you little know whom you comfort:'"
A mighty fortress is our God,
A bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood
Of mortal ills prevailing.
For still our ancient foe
Doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great,
And, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.
* * * * *
The Prince of Darkness grim--
We tremble not for him:
His rage we can endure,
For lo! his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.
That word above all earthly powers--
No thanks to them--abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours,
Through Him who with us sideth.
Let goods and kindred go,
This mortal life also;
The body they may kill,
God's truth abideth still,
His kingdom is for ever.
Martin Luther was born in Eisleben, in Saxony, Nov. 10, 1483. He was
educated at the University of Erfurth, and became an Augustinian monk
and Professor of Philosophy and Divinity in the University of
Wittenberg. In 1517 he composed and placarded his ninety-five Theses
condemning certain practices of the Romish Church and three years later
the Pope published a bull excommunicating him, which he burnt openly
before a sympathetic multitude in Wittenberg. His life was a stormy one,
and he was more than once in mortal danger by reason of his antagonism
to the papal authority, but he found powerful patrons, and lived to see
the Reformation an organized fact. He died in his birthplace, Eisleben,
Feb. 18th, 1546.
The translation of the "Ein feste burg," given above, in part, is by
Rev. Frederick Henry Hedge, D.D., born in Cambridge, March 1805, a
graduate of Harvard, and formerly minister of the Unitarian Church in
Bangor, Me. Died, 1890.
Luther wrote thirty-six hymns, to some of which he fitted his own music,
for he was a musician and singer as well as an eloquent preacher. The
tune in which "Ein feste Burg" is sung in the hymnals, was composed by
himself. The hymn has also a noble rendering in the music of Sebastian
Bach, 8-4 time, found in _Hymns Ancient and Modern_.
BARTHOLOMEW RINGWALDT.
"Great God, What Do I See and Hear?"
The history of this hymn is somewhat indefinite, though common consent
now attributes to Ringwaldt the stanza beginning with the above line.
The imitation of the "Dies Irae" in German which was first in use was
printed in Jacob Klug's "_Gesangbuch_" in 1535. Ringwaldt's hymn of the
Last Day, also inspired from the ancient Latin original, appears in his
_Handbuchlin_ of 1586, but does not contain this stanza. The first line
is, "The awful Day will surely come," (Es ist gewisslich an der Zeit).
Nevertheless through the more than two hundred years that the hymn has
been translated and re-translated, and gone through inevitable
revisions, some vital identity in the spirit and tone of the one
seven-line stanza has steadily connected it with Ringwaldt's name.
Apparently it is the single survivor of a great lost hymn--edited and
altered out of recognition. But its power evidently inspired the added
verses, as we have them. Dr. Collyer found it, and, regretting that it
was too short to sing in public service, composed stanzas 2d, 3d and
4th. It is likely that Collyer first met with it in _Psalms and Hymns
for Public and Private Devotion_, Sheffield 1802, where it appeared
anonymously. So far as known this was its first publication in English.
Ringwaldt's stanza and two of Collyer's are here given:
Great God, what do I see and hear!
The end of things created!
The Judge of mankind doth appear
On clouds of glory seated.
The trumpet sounds, the graves restore
The dead which they contained before;
Prepare, my soul, to meet Him.
The dead in Christ shall first arise
At the last trumpet sounding,
Caught up to meet Him in the skies,
With joy their Lord surrounding.
No gloomy fears their souls dismay
His presence sheds eternal day
On those prepared to meet Him.
Far over space to distant spheres
The lightnings are prevailing
Th' ungodly rise, and all their tears
And sighs are unavailing.
The day of grace is past and gone;
They shake before the Judge's Throne
All unprepared to meet Him.
Bartholomew Ringwaldt, pastor of the Lutheran Church of Longfeld,
Prussia, was born in 1531, and died in 1599. His hymns appear in a
collection entitled _Hymns for the Sundays and Festivals of the Whole
Year_.
Rev. William Bengo Collyer D.D., was born at Blackheath near London,
April 14, 1782, educated at Homerton College and settled over a
Congregational Church in Peckham. In 1812 he published a book of hymns,
and in 1837 a _Service Book_ to which he contributed eighty-nine hymns.
He died Jan, 9, 1854.
_THE TUNE._
Probably it was the customary singing of Ringwaldt's hymn (in Germany)
to Luther's tune that gave it for some time the designation of "Luther's
Hymn," the title by which the music is still known--an air either
composed or adapted by Luther, and rendered perhaps unisonously or with
extempore chords. It was not until early in the last century that
Vincent Novello wrote to it the noble arrangement now in use. It is a
strong, even-time harmony with lofty tenor range, and very impressive
with full choir and organ or the vocal volume of a congregation. In
_Cheetham's Psalmody_ is it written with a trumpet obligato.
Vincent Novello, born in London, Sept. 6, 1781, the intimate friend of
Lamb, Shelley, Keats, Hunt and Hazlitt, was a professor of music who
attained great eminence as an organist and composer of hymn-tunes and
sacred pieces. He was the founder of the publishing house of Novello and
Ewer, and father of a famous musical family. Died at Nice, Aug. 9, 1861.
ST. FRANCIS XAVIER.
"_O Deus, Ego Amo Te._"
Francis Xavier, the celebrated Jesuit missionary, called "The Apostle of
the Indies," was a Spaniard, born in 1506. While a student in Paris he
met Ignatius Loyola, and joined him in the formation of the new "Society
for the Propagation of the Faith." He was sent out on a mission to the
East Indies and Japan, and gave himself to the work with a martyr's
devotion. The stations he established in Japan were maintained more than
a hundred years. He died in China, Dec. 1552.
His hymn, some time out of use, is being revived in later singing-books
as expressive of the purest and highest Christian sentiment:
O Deus, ego amo Te.
Nec amo Te, ut salves me,
Aut quia non amantes Te
AEterno punis igne.
My God, I love Thee--not because
I hope for heaven thereby;
Nor yet because who love Thee not
Must burn eternally.
After recounting Christ's vicarious sufferings as the chief claim to His
disciples' unselfish love, the hymn continues,--
Cur igitur non amem Te,
O Jesu amantissime!
Non, ut in coelo salves me,
Aut in aeternum damnes me.
Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ,
Should I not love Thee well?
Not for the sake of winning heaven,
Nor of escaping hell;
Not with the hope of gaining aught,
Nor seeking a reward,
But as Thyself hast loved me,
Oh, ever-loving Lord!
E'en so I love Thee, and will love,
And in Thy praise will sing;
Solely because Thou art my God
And my eternal King.
The translation is by Rev. Edward Caswall, 1814-1878, a priest in the
Church of Rome. Besides his translations, he published the _Lyra
Catholica_, the _Masque of Mary_, and several other poetical works.
(Page 101.)
_THE TUNE._
"St. Bernard"--apparently so named because originally composed to
Caswall's translation of one of Bernard of Clairvaux's hymns--is by
John Richardson, born in Preston, Eng., Dec. 4, 1817, and died there
April 13, 1879. He was an organist in Liverpool, and noted as a composer
of glees, but was the author of several sacred tunes.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
"Give Me My Scallop-Shell of Quiet."
Few of the hymns of the Elizabethan era survive, though the Ambrosian
Midnight Hymn, "Hark, 'tis the Midnight Cry," and the hymns of St.
Bernard and Bernard of Cluny, are still tones in the church, and the
religious poetry of Sir Walter Raleigh comes down to us associated with
the history of his brilliant, though tragic career. The following poem
has some fine lines in the quaint English style of the period, and was
composed by Sir Walter during his first imprisonment:
Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy--immortal diet--
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope's true gage--
And thus I take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my body's balmer,
While my soul, like faithful palmer,
Travelleth toward the land of heaven;
Other balm will not be given.
Over the silver mountains
Where spring the nectar fountains,
There will I kiss the bowl of bliss,
And drink my everlasting fill,
Upon every milken hill;
My soul will be a-dry before,
But after that will thirst no more.
The musings of the unfortunate but high-souled nobleman in expectation
of ignominious death are interesting and pathetic, but they have no
claim to a tune, even if they were less rugged and unmetrical. But the
poem stands notable among the pious witnesses.
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.
"_O Domine Deus, Speravi in Te._"
This last passionate prayer of the unhappy Mary Stuart just before her
execution--in a language which perhaps flowed from her pen more easily
than even her English or French--is another witness of supplicating
faith that struggles out of darkness with a song. In her extremity the
devoted Catholic forgets her petitions to the Virgin, and comes to
Christ:
O Domine Deus, Speravi in Te;
O care mi Jesu, nunc libera me!
In dura catena, in misera poena
Desidero Te!
Languendo, gemendo, et genuflectendo
Adoro, imploro ut liberes me!
My Lord and my God! I have trusted in Thee;
O Jesus, my Saviour belov'd, set me free:
In rigorous chains, in piteous pains,
I am longing for Thee!
In weakness appealing, in agony kneeling,
I pray, I beseech Thee, O Lord, set me free!
One would, at first thought, judge this simple but eloquent cry worthy
of an appropriate tone-expression--to be sung by prison evangelists like
the Volunteers of America, to convicts in the jails and penitentiaries.
But its special errand and burden are voiced so literally that hardened
hearers would probably misapply it--however sincerely the petitioner
herself meant to invoke spiritual rather than temporal deliverance. The
hymn, if we may call it so, is _too_ literal. Possibly at some time or
other it may have been set to music but not for ordinary choir service.
SAMUEL RUTHERFORD.
The sands of time are sinking,
* * * * *
But, glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's Land.
This hymn is biographical, but not autobiographical. Like the discourses
in Herodotus and Plutarch, it is the voice of the dead speaking through
the sympathetic genius of the living after long generations. The strong,
stern Calvinist of 1636 in Aberdeen was not a poet, but he bequeathed
his spirit and life to the verse of a poet of 1845 in Melrose. Anne Ross
Cousin read his two hundred and twenty letters written during a two
years' captivity for his fidelity to the purer faith, and studied his
whole history and experience till her soul took his soul's place and
felt what he felt. Her poem of nineteen stanzas (152 lines) is the voice
of Rutherford the Covenanter, with the prolixity of his manner and age
sweetened by his triumphant piety, and that is why it belongs with the
_Hymns of Great Witnesses_. The three or four stanzas still occasionally
printed and sung are only recalled to memory by the above three lines.
Samuel Rutherford was born in Nisbet Parish, Scotland, in 1600. His
settled ministry was at Anworth, in Galloway--1630-1651--with a break
between 1636 and 1638, when Charles I. angered by his anti-prelatical
writings, silenced and banished him. Shut up in Aberdeen, but allowed,
like Paul in Rome, to live "in his own hired house" and write letters,
he poured out his heart's love in Epistles to his Anworth flock and to
the Non-conformists of Scotland. When his countrymen rose against the
attempted imposition of a new holy Romish service-book on their
churches, he escaped to his people, and soon after appeared in Edinburgh
and signed the covenant with the assembled ministers. Thirteen years
later, after Cromwell's death and the accession of Charles II. the wrath
of the prelates fell on him at St. Andrews, where the Presbytery had
made him rector of the college. The King's decree indicted him for
treason, stripped him of all his offices, and would have forced him to
the block had he not been stricken with his last sickness. When the
officers came to take him he said, "I am summoned before a higher Judge
and Judicatory, and I am behooved to attend them." He died soon after,
in the year 1661.
The first, and a few other of the choicest stanzas of the hymn inspired
by his life and death are here given:
The sands of time are sinking,
The dawn of heaven breaks,
The summer morn I've sighed for--
The fair, sweet morn--awakes.
Dark, dark hath been the midnight,
But dayspring is at hand;
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
* * * * *
Oh! well it is for ever--
Oh! well for evermore:
My nest hung in no forest
Of all this death-doomed shore;
Yea, let this vain world vanish,
As from the ship the strand,
While glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
* * * * *
The little birds of Anworth--
I used to count them blest;
Now beside happier altars
I go to build my nest;
O'er these there broods no silence
No graves around them stand;
For glory deathless dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
I have borne scorn and hatred,
I have borne wrong and shame,
Earth's proud ones have reproached me
For Christ's thrice blessed name.
Where God's seals set the fairest,
They've stamped their foulest brand;
But judgment shines like noonday
In Immanuel's land.
They've summoned me before them,
But there I may not come;
My Lord says, "Come up hither;"
My Lord says, "Welcome home;"
My King at His white throne
My presence doth command,
Where glory, glory dwelleth,
In Immanuel's land.
A reminiscence of St. Paul in his second Epistle to Timothy (chap. 4)
comes with the last two stanzas.
_THE TUNE._
The tender and appropriate choral in B flat, named "Rutherford" was
composed by D'Urhan, a French musician, probably a hundred years ago. It
was doubtless named by those who long afterwards fitted it to the words,
and knew whose spiritual proxy the lady stood who indited the hymn. It
is reprinted in Peloubet's _Select Songs_, and in the _Coronation
Hymnal_. Naturally in the days of the hymn's more frequent use people
became accustomed to calling "The sands of time are sinking,"
"Rutherford's Hymn." Rutherford's own words certainly furnished the
memorable refrain with its immortal glow and gladness. One of his joyful
exclamations as he lay dying of his lingering disease was, "Glory
shineth in Immanuel's Land!"
Chretien (Christian) Urhan, or D'Urhan, was born at Montjoie, France,
about 1788, and died, in Paris, 1845. He was a noted violin-player, and
composer, also, of vocal and instrumental music.
Mrs. Anne Ross (Cundell) Cousin, daughter of David Ross Cundell, M.D.,
and widow of Rev. William Cousin of the Free church of Scotland, was
born in Melrose (?), 1824. She wrote many poems, most of which are
beautiful meditations rather than lyrics suitable for public song. Her
"Rutherford Hymn" was first published in the _Christian Treasury_, 1857.
GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS.
"_Verzage Nicht Du Hauflein Klein._"
The historian tells us that before the battle of Lutzen, during the
Thirty Years' War (1618-1648), King Gustavus of Sweden, in the thick fog
of an autumn morning, with the Bohemian and Austrian armies of Emperor
Ferdinand in front of him, knelt before his troops, and his whole army
knelt with him in prayer. Then ten thousand voices and the whole concert
of regimental bands burst forth in this brave song:
Fear not, O little flock, the foe
Who madly seeks your overthrow,
Dread not his rage and power:
What though your courage sometimes faints,
His seeming triumph o'er God's saints
Lasts but a little hour.
Be of good cheer, your cause belongs
To Him who can avenge your wrongs;
Leave it to Him, our Lord:
Though hidden yet from all our eyes,
He sees the Gideon who shall rise
To save us and His word.
As true as God's own word is true,
Nor earth nor hell with all their crew,
Against us shall prevail:
A jest and by-word they are grown;
God is with us, we are His own,
Our victory cannot fail.
Amen, Lord Jesus, grant our prayer!
Great Captain, now Thine arm make bare,
Fight for us once again:
So shall Thy saints and martyrs raise
A mighty chorus to Thy praise,
World without end. Amen.
The army of Gustavus moved forward to victory as the fog lifted; but at
the moment of triumph a riderless horse came galloping back to the camp.
It was the horse of the martyred King.
The battle song just quoted--next to Luther's "Ein feste Burg" the most
famous German hymn--has always since that day been called "Gustavus
Adolphus' Hymn"; and the mingled sorrow and joy of the event at Lutzen
named it also "King Gustavus' Swan Song." Gustavus Adolphus did not
write hymns. He could sing them, and he could make them historic--and it
was this connection that identified him with the famous battle song. Its
author was the Rev. Johan Michael Altenburg, a Lutheran clergyman, who
composed apparently both hymn and tune on receiving news of the king's
victory at Leipsic a year before.
Gustavus Adolphus was born in 1594. His death on the battlefield
occurred Nov. 5, 1632--when he was in the prime of his manhood. He was
one of the greatest military commanders in history, besides being a
great ruler and administrator, and a devout Christian. He was, during
the Thirty Years' War (until his untimely death), the leading champion
of Protestantism in Europe.
The English translator of the battle song was Miss Catherine Winkworth,
born in London, Sept. 13, 1827. She was an industrious and successful
translator of German hymns, contributing many results of her work to two
English editions of the _Lyra Germania_, to the _Church Book of
England_, and to _Christian Singers of Germany_. She died in 1878.
The tune of "Ravendale" by Walter Stokes (born 1847) is the best modern
rendering of the celebrated hymn.
PAUL GERHARDT.
"_Befiehl Du Deine Wege._"
Paul Gerhardt was one of those minstrels of experience who are--
"Cradled into poetry by wrong,
And learn in suffering what they teach in song."
He was a graduate of that school when he wrote his "Hymn of Trust:"
Commit thou all thy griefs
And ways into His hands;
To His sure trust and tender care
Who earth and heaven commands.
Thou on the Lord rely,
So, safe, shalt thou go on;
Fix on His work thy steadfast eye,
So shall thy work be done.
* * * * *
Give to the winds thy fears;
Hope, and be undismayed;
God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,
He shall lift up thy head.
Through waves and clouds and storms
He gently clears thy way;
Wait thou His time, so shall this night
Soon end in joyous day.
Gerhardt was born at Grafenheinchen, Saxony, 1606. Through the first and
best years of manhood's strength (during the Thirty Years' War), a
wandering preacher tossed from place to place, he was without a parish
and without a home.
After the peace of Westphalia he settled in the little village of
Mittenwalde. He was then forty-four years old. Four years later he
married and removed to a Berlin church. During his residence there he
buried his wife, and four of his children, was deposed from the
ministry because his Lutheran doctrines offended the Elector Frederick,
and finally retired as a simple arch-deacon to a small parish in Lubben,
where he preached, toiled, and suffered amid a rough and uncongenial
people till he died, Jan. 16, 1676.
Few men have ever lived whose case more needed a "Hymn of Trust"--and
fewer still could have written it themselves. Through all those trial
years he was pouring forth his soul in devout verses, making in all no
less than a hundred and twenty-five hymns--every one of them a comfort
to others as well as to himself.
He became a favorite, and for a time _the_ favorite, hymn-writer of all
the German-speaking people. Among these tones of calm faith and joy we
recognize today (in the English tongue),--
Since Jesus is my Friend,
Thee, O Immanuel, we praise,
All my heart this night rejoices,
How shall I meet Thee,
--and the English translation of his "O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden,"
turned into German by himself from St. Bernard Clairvaux's "Salve caput
cruentatum," and made dear to us in Rev. James Alexander's beautiful
lines--
O sacred head now wounded,
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded
With thorns, Thine only crown.
_THE TUNE._
A plain-song by Alexander Reinagle is used by some congregations, but is
not remarkably expressive. Reinagle, Alexander Robert, (1799-1877) of
Kidlington, Eng., was organist to the church of St. Peter-in-the-East,
Oxford.
The great "Hymn of Trust" could have found no more sympathetic
interpreter than the musician of Gerhardt's own land and language,
Schumann, the gentle genius of Zwickau. It bears the name "Schumann,"
appropriately enough, and its elocution makes a volume of each quatrain,
notably the one--
Who points the clouds their course,
Whom wind and seas obey;
He shall direct thy wandering feet,
He shall prepare thy way.
Robert Schumann, Ph.D., was born in Zwickau, Saxony, June 8, 1810. He
was a music director and conservatory teacher, and the master-mind of
the pre-Wagnerian period. His compositions became popular, having a
character of their own, combining the intellectual and beautiful in art.
He published in Leipsic a journal promotive of his school of music, and
founded a choral society in Dresden. Happy in the cooeperation of his
wife, herself a skilled musician, he extended his work to Vienna and the
Netherlands; but his zeal wore him out, and he died at the age of
forty-six, universally lamented as "the eminent man who had done so much
for the happiness of others."
Gerhardt's Hymn (ten quatrains) is rarely printed entire, and where six
are printed only four are usually sung. Different collections choose
portions according to the compiler's taste, the stanza beginning--
Give to the winds thy fears,
--being with some a favorite first verse.
The translation of the hymn from the German is John Wesley's.
Purely legendary is the beautiful story of the composition of the hymn,
"Commit thou all thy griefs"; how, after his exile from Berlin,
traveling on foot with his weeping wife, Gerhardt stopped at a wayside
inn and wrote the lines while he rested; and how a messenger from Duke
Christian found him there, and offered him a home in Meresburg. But the
most ordinary imagination can fill in the possible incidents in a life
of vicissitudes such as Gerhardt's was.
LADY HUNTINGDON.
"When Thou My Righteous Judge Shalt Come."
Selina Shirley, Countess of Huntingdon, born 1707, died 1791, is
familiarly known as the titled friend and patroness of Whitefield and
his fellow-preachers. She early consecrated herself to God, and in the
great spiritual awakening under Whitefield and the Wesleys she was a
punctual and sympathetic helper. Uniting with the Calvinistic
Methodists, she nevertheless stood aloof from none who preached a
personal Christ, and whose watchwords were the salvation of souls and
the purification of the Church. For more than fifty years she devoted
her wealth to benevolence and spiritual ministries, and died at the age
of eighty-four. "I have done my work," was her last testimony. "I have
nothing to do but to go to my Father."
At various times Lady Huntingdon expressed her religious experience in
verse, and the manful vigor of her school of faith recalls the unbending
confidence of Job, for she was not a stranger to affliction.
God's furnace doth in Zion stand,
But Zion's God sits by,
As the refiner views his gold,
With an observant eye.
His thoughts are high, His love is wise,
His wounds a cure intend;
And, though He does not always smile,
He loves unto the end.
Her great hymn, that keeps her memory green, has the old-fashioned
flavor. "Massa made God BIG!" was the comment on Dr. Bellany made by his
old negro servant after that noted minister's death. In Puritan piety
the sternest self-depreciation qualified every thought of the creature,
while every allusion to the Creator was a magnificat. Lady Huntingdon's
hymn has no flattering phrases for the human subject. "Worthless worm,"
and "vilest of them all" indicate the true Pauline or Oriental
prostration of self before a superior being; but there is grandeur in
the metre, the awful reverence, and the scene of judgment in the
stanzas--always remembering the mighty choral that has so long given the
lyric its voice in the church, and is ancillary to its fame:
When Thou, my righteous Judge, shalt come
To take Thy ransomed people home,
Shall I among them stand?
Shall such a worthless worm as I,
Who sometimes am afraid to die,
Be found at Thy right hand?
I love to meet Thy people now,
Before Thy feet with them to bow,
Though vilest of them all;
But can I bear the piercing thought,
What if my name should be left out,
When Thou for them shalt call?
O Lord, prevent it by Thy grace:
Be Thou my only hiding place,
In this th' accepted day;
Thy pardoning voice, oh let me hear,
To still my unbelieving fear,
Nor let me fall, I pray.
Among Thy saints let me be found,
Whene'er the archangel's trump shall sound,
To see Thy smiling face;
Then loudest of the throng I'll sing,
While heaven's resounding arches ring
With shouts of sovereign grace.
_THE TUNE._
The tune of "Meribah," in which this hymn has been sung for the last
sixty or more years, is one of Dr. Lowell Mason's masterpieces. An
earlier German harmony attributed to Heinrich Isaac and named
"Innsbruck" has in some few cases claimed association with the words,
though composed two hundred years before Lady Huntingdon was born. It is
strong and solemn, but its cold psalm-tune movement does not utter the
deep emotion of the author's lines. "Meribah" was inspired by the hymn
itself, and there is nothing invidious in saying it illustrates the
fact, memorable in all hymnology, of the natural obligation of a hymn to
its tune.
Apropos of both, it is related that Mason was once presiding at choir
service in a certain church where the minister gave out "When thou my
righteous Judge shalt come" and by mistake directed the singers to "omit
the second stanza." Mason sat at the organ, and while playing the last
strain, "Be found at thy right hand," glanced ahead in the hymnbook and
turned with a start just in time to command, "Sing the _next_ verse!"
The choir did so, and "O Lord, prevent it by Thy grace!" was saved from
being a horrible prayer to be kept out of heaven.
ZINZENDORF.
"Jesus, Thy Blood and Righteousness."
Nicolaus Ludwig, Count Von Zinzendorf, was born at Dresden, May 26,
1700, and educated at Halle and Wittenberg. From his youth he evinced
marked seriousness of mind, and deep religious sensibilities, and this
character appeared in his sympathy with the persecuted Moravians, to
whom he gave domicile and domain on his large estate. For eleven years
he was Councillor to the Elector of Saxony, but subsequently, uniting
with the Brethren's Church, he founded the settlement of Herrnhut, the
first home and refuge of the reorganized sect, and became a Moravian
minister and bishop.
Zinzendorf was a man of high culture, as well as profound and sincere
piety and in his hymns (of which he wrote more than two thousand) he
preached Christ as eloquently as with his voice. The real birth-moment
of his religious life is said to have been simultaneous with his study
of the "Ecce Homo" in the Dusseldorf Gallery, a wonderful painting of
Jesus crowned with thorns. Visiting the gallery one day when a young
man, he gazed on the sacred face and read the legend superscribed, "All
this I have done for thee; What doest thou for me?" Ever afterwards his
motto was "I have but one passion, and that is He, and only He"--a
version of Paul's "For me to live is Christ."
Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress:
'Midst flaming worlds, in these arrayed,
With joy shall I lift up my head.
Bold shall I stand in Thy great day,
For who aught to my charge shall lay?
Fully absolved through these I am--
From sin and fear, from guilt and shame.
Lord, I believe were sinners more
Than sands upon the ocean shore,
Thou hast for all a ransom paid,
For all a full atonement made.
Nearly all the hymns of the great Moravian are now out of general use,
having accomplished their mission, like the forgotten ones of Gerhardt,
and been superseded by others. More sung in Europe, probably, now than
any of the survivors is, "Jesus, geh voran," ("Jesus, lead on,") which
has been translated into English by Jane Borthwick[8] (1854). Two
others, both translated by John Wesley, are with us, the one above
quoted, and "Glory to God, whose witness train." "Jesus, Thy blood,"
which is the best known, frequently appears with the alteration--
Jesus, Thy _robe_ of righteousness
My beauty _is_, my glorious dress.
[Footnote 8: Born in Edinburgh 1813.]
_THE TUNE._
"Malvern," and "Uxbridge" a pure Gregorian, both by Lowell Mason, are
common expressions of the hymn--the latter, perhaps, generally
preferred, being less plaintive and speaking with a surer and more
restful emphasis.
ROBERT SEAGRAVE.
"Rise, My Soul, and Stretch Thy Wings."
This hymn was written early in the 18th century, by the Rev. Robert
Seagrave, born at Twyford, Leicestershire, Eng., Nov. 22, 1693. Educated
at Cambridge, he took holy orders in the Established Church, but
espoused the cause of the great evangelistic movement, and became a
hearty co-worker with the Wesleys. Judging by the lyric fire he could
evidently put into his verses, one involuntarily asks if he would not
have written more, and been in fact the song-leader of the spiritual
reformation if there had been no Charles Wesley. There is not a hymn of
Wesley's in use on the same subject equal to the one immortal hymn of
Seagrave, and the only other near its time that approaches it in vigor
and appealing power is Doddridge's "Awake my soul, stretch every nerve."
But Providence gave Wesley the harp and appointed to the elder poet a
branch of possibly equal usefulness, where he was kept too busy to enter
the singers' ranks.
For eleven years he was the Sunday-evening lecturer at Lorimer's Hall,
London, and often preached in Whitefield's Tabernacle. His hymn is one
of the most soul-stirring in the English language:
[Illustration: S. Huntingdon]
Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings;
Thy better portion trace;
Rise from transitory things
Toward Heaven, thy native place;
Sun and moon and stars decay,
Time shall soon this earth remove;
Rise, my soul and haste away
To seats prepared above.
Rivers to the ocean run,
Nor stay in all their course;
Fire ascending seeks the sun;
Both speed them to their source:
So a soul that's born of God
Pants to view His glorious face,
Upward tends to His abode
To rest in His embrace.
* * * * *
Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn,
Press onward to the prize;
Soon your Saviour will return
Triumphant in the skies.
Yet a season, and you know
Happy entrance will be given;
All our sorrows left below,
And earth exchanged for heaven.
This hymn must have found its predestinated organ when it found--
_THE TUNE._
"Amsterdam," the work of James Nares, had its birth and baptism soon
after the work of Seagrave; and they have been breath and bugle to the
church of God ever since they became one song. In _The Great Musicians_,
edited by Francis Huffer, is found this account of James Nares:
"He was born at Hanwell, Middlesex, in 1715; was admitted chorister at
the Chapel Royal, under Bernard Gates, and when he was able to play the
organ was appointed deputy for Pigott, of St. George's Chapel, Windsor,
and became organist at York Minster in 1734. He succeeded Greene as
organist and composer to the Chapel Royal in 1756, and in the same year
was made Doctor of Music at Cambridge. He was appointed master of the
children of the Chapel Royal in 1757, on the death of Gates. This post
he resigned in 1780, and he died in 1783, (February 10,) and was buried
in St. Margaret's Church, Westminster.
"He had the reputation of being an excellent trainer of boy's voices,
many of his anthems having been written to exhibit the accomplishments
of his young pupils. The degree of excellence the boys attained was not
won in those days without the infliction of much corporal punishment."
Judging from the high pulse and action in the music of "Amsterdam," one
would guess the energy of the man who made boy choirs--and made good
ones. In the old time the rule was, "Birds that can sing and won't sing,
must be made to sing"; and the rule was sometimes enforced with the
master's time-stick.
A tune entitled "Excelsius," written a hundred years later by John Henry
Cornell, so nearly resembles "Amsterdam" as to suggest an intention to
amend it. It changes the modal note from G to A, but while it marches
at the same pace it lacks the jubilant modulations and the choral glory
of the 18th-century piece.
SIR JOHN BOWRING.
"In the Cross of Christ I Glory."
In this hymn we see, sitting humbly at the feet of the great author of
our religion, a man who impressed himself perhaps more than any other
save Napoleon Bonaparte upon his own generation, and who was the wonder
of Europe for his immense attainments and the versatility of his powers.
Statesman, philanthropist, biographer, publicist, linguist, historian,
financier, naturalist, poet, political economist--there is hardly a
branch of knowledge or a field of research from which he did not enrich
himself and others, or a human condition that he did not study and
influence.
Sir John Bowring was born in 1792. When a youth he was Jeremy Bentham's
political pupil, but gained his first fame by his vast knowledge of
European literature, becoming acquainted with no less than thirteen[9]
continental languages and dialects. He served in consular appointments
at seven different capitals, carried important reform measures in
Parliament, was Minister Plenipotentiary to China and Governor of Hong
Kong, and concluded a commercial treaty with Siam, where every previous
commissioner had failed. But in all his crowded years the pen of this
tireless and successful man was busy. Besides his political, economic
and religious essays, which made him a member of nearly every learned
society in Europe, his translations were countless, and poems and hymns
of his own composing found their way to the public, among them the
tender spiritual song,--
How sweetly flowed the Gospel sound
From lips of gentleness and grace
When listening thousands gathered round,
And joy and gladness filled the place,
--and the more famous hymn indicated at the head of this sketch.
Knowledge of all religions only qualified him to worship the Crucified
with both faith and reason. Though nominally a Unitarian, to him, as to
Channing and Martineau and Edmund Sears, Christ was "all we know of
God."
[Footnote 9: Exaggerated in some accounts to _forty_.]
Bowring died Nov. 23, 1872. But his hymn to the Cross will never die:
In the cross of Christ I glory,
Towering o'er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story
Gathers round its head sublime.
When the woes of life o'ertake me
Hopes deceive, and fears annoy,
Never shall the cross forsake me;
Lo! it glows with peace and joy.
When the sun of bliss is beaming
Light and love upon my way,
From the cross the radiance streaming
Adds new lustre to the day.
Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure
By the cross are sanctified,
Peace is there that knows no measure,
Joys that through all time abide.
_THE TUNE._
Ithamar Conkey's "Rathbun" fits the adoring words as if they had waited
for it. Its air, swelling through diatonic fourth and third to the
supreme syllable, bears on its waves the homage of the lines from bar to
bar till the four voices come home to rest full and satisfied in the
final chord--
Gathers round its head sublime.
Ithamar Conkey, was born of Scotch ancestry, in Shutesbury, Mass., May
5th, 1815. He was a noted bass singer, and was for a long time connected
with the choir of the Calvary church, New York City, and sang the
oratorio solos. His tune of "Rathbun" was composed in 1847, and
published in Greatorex's collection in 1851. He died in Elizabeth, N.J.,
April 30, 1867.
CHAPTER III.
HYMNS OF CHRISTIAN DEVOTION AND EXPERIENCE.
"JESU DULCIS MEMORIA."
"Jesus the Very Thought of Thee."
The original of this delightful hymn is one of the devout meditations of
Bernard of Clairvaux, a Cistercian monk (1091-1153). He was born of a
noble family in or near Dijon, Burgundy, and when only twenty-three
years old established a monastery at Clairvaux, France, over which he
presided as its first abbot. Educated in the University of Paris, and
possessing great natural abilities, he soon made himself felt in both
the religious and political affairs of Europe. For more than thirty
years he was the personal power that directed belief, quieted
turbulence, and arbitrated disputes, and kings and even popes sought his
counsel. It was his eloquent preaching that inspired the second crusade.
His fine poem of feeling, in fifty Latin stanzas, has been a source of
pious song in several languages:
Jesu, dulcis memoria
Dans vera cordi gaudia,
Sed super mel et omnium
Ejus dulcis presentia.
Literally--
Jesus! a sweet memory
Giving true joys to the heart,
But sweet above honey and all things
His _presence_ [is].
The five stanzas (of Caswall's free translation) now in use are familiar
and dear to all English-speaking believers:
Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills my breast,
But sweeter far Thy face to see,
And in Thy presence rest.
Nor voice can sing nor heart can frame
Nor can the memory find,
A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,
O Saviour of mankind.
The Rev. Edward Caswall was born in Hampshire, Eng., July 15, 1814, the
son of a clergyman. He graduated with honors at Brazenose College,
Oxford, and after ten years of service in the ministry of the Church of
England joined Henry Newman's Oratory at Birmingham, was confirmed in
the Church of Rome, and devoted the rest of his life to works of piety
and charity. He died Jan. 2, 1878.
_THE TUNE._
No single melody has attached itself to this hymn, the scope of
selection being as large as the supply of appropriate common-metre
tunes. Barnby's "Holy Trinity," Wade's "Holy Cross" and Griggs' tune (of
his own name) are all good, but many, on the giving out of the hymn,
would associate it at once with the more familiar "Heber" by George
Kingsley and expect to hear it sung. It has the uplift and unction of
John Newton's--
How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In the believer's ear.
"GOD CALLING YET! SHALL I NOT HEAR?"
Gerhard Tersteegen, the original author of the hymn, and one of the most
eminent religious poets of the Reformed German church in its early days,
was born in 1697, in the town of Mors, in Westphalia. He was left an
orphan in boyhood by the death of his father, and as his mother's means
were limited, he was put to work as an apprentice when very young, at
Muhlheim on the Ruhr, and became a ribbon weaver. Here, when about
fifteen years of age, he became deeply concerned for his soul, and
experienced a deep and abiding spiritual work. As a Christian, his
religion partook of the ascetic type, but his mysticism did not make him
useless to his fellow-men.
At the age of twenty-seven, he dedicated all his resources and energies
to the cause of Christ, writing the dedication in his own blood. "God
graciously called me," he says, "out of the world, and granted me the
desire to belong to Him, and to be willing to follow Him." He gave up
secular employments altogether, and devoted his whole time to religious
instruction and to the poor. His house became famous as the "Pilgrims'
Cottage," and was visited by people high and humble from all parts of
Germany. In his lifetime he is said to have written one hundred and
eleven hymns. Died April 3, 1769.
God calling yet! shall I not hear?
Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear?
Shall life's swift-passing years all fly,
And still my soul in slumber lie?
* * * * *
God calling yet! I cannot stay;
My heart I yield without delay.
Vain world, farewell; from thee I part;
The voice of God hath reached my heart.
The hymn was translated from the German by Miss Jane Borthwick, born in
Edinburgh, 1813. She and her younger sister, Mrs. Findlater, jointly
translated and published, in 1854, _Hymns From the Land of Luther_, and
contributed many poetical pieces to the _Family Treasury_. She died in
1897.
Another translation, imitating the German metre, is more euphonious,
though less literal and less easily fitted to music not specially
composed for it, on account of its "feminine" rhymes:
God calling yet! and shall I never hearken?
But still earth's witcheries my spirit darken;
This passing life, these passing joys all flying,
And still my soul in dreamy slumbers lying?
_THE TUNE._
Dr. Dykes' "Rivaulx" is a sober choral that articulates the
hymn-writer's sentiment with sincerity and with considerable
earnestness, but breathes too faintly the interrogative and expostulary
tone of the lines. To voice the devout solicitude and self-remonstrance
of the hymn there is no tune superior to "Federal St."
The Hon. Henry Kemble Oliver, author of "Federal St.," was born in
Salem, Mass., March, 1800, and was addicted to music from his childhood.
His father compelled him to relinquish it as a profession, but it
remained his favorite avocation, and after his graduation from Harvard
the cares of none of the various public positions he held, from
schoolmaster to treasurer of the state of Massachusetts, could ever wean
him from the study of music and its practice. At the age of thirty-one,
while sitting one day in his study, the last verse of Anne Steele's
hymn--
So fades the lovely blooming flower,
--floated into his mind, and an unbidden melody came with it. As he
hummed it to himself the words shaped the air, and the air shaped the
words.
Then gentle patience smiles on pain,
Then dying hope revives again,
--became--
See gentle patience smile on pain;
See dying hope revive again;
--and with the change of a word and a tense the hymn created the melody,
and soon afterward the complete tune was made. Two years later it was
published by Lowell Mason, and Oliver gave it the name of the street in
Salem on which his wife was born, wooed, won, and married. It adds a
pathos to its history that "Federal St." was sung at her burial.
This first of Oliver's tunes was followed by "Harmony Grove," "Morning,"
"Walnut Grove," "Merton," "Hudson," "Bosworth," "Salisbury Plain,"
several anthems and motets, and a "Te Deum."
In his old age, at the great Peace Jubilee in Boston, 1872, the baton
was put into his hands, and the gray-haired composer conducted the
chorus of ten thousand voices as they sang the words and music of his
noble harmony. The incident made "Federal St." more than ever a feature
of New England history. Oliver died in 1885.
"MY GOD, HOW ENDLESS IS THY LOVE."
The spirited tune to this hymn of Watts, by Frederick Lampe, variously
named "Kent" and "Devonshire," historically reaches back so near to the
poet's time that it must have been one of the earliest expressions of
his fervent words.
Johan Friedrich Lampe, born 1693, in Saxony, was educated in music at
Helmstadt, and came to England in 1725 as a band musician and composer
to Covent Garden Theater. His best-known secular piece is the music
written to Henry Carey's burlesque, "The Dragon of Wantley."
Mrs. Rich, wife of the lessee of the theater, was converted under the
preaching of the Methodists, and after her husband's death her house
became the home of Lampe and his wife, where Charles Wesley often met
him.
The influence of Wesley won him to more serious work, and he became one
of the evangelist's helpers, supplying tunes to his singing campaigns.
Wesley became attached to him, and after his death--in Edinburgh,
1752--commemorated the musician in a funeral hymn.
In popular favor Bradbury's tune of "Rolland" has now superseded the old
music sung to Watts' lines--
My God, how endless is Thy love,
Thy gifts are every evening new,
And morning mercies from above
Gently distil like early dew.
* * * * *
I yield my powers to Thy command;
To Thee I consecrate my days;
Perpetual blessings from Thy hand
Demand perpetual songs of praise.
William Batchelder Bradbury, a pupil of Dr. Lowell Mason, and the
pioneer in publishing Sunday-school music, was born 1816, in York, Me.
His father, a veteran of the Revolution, was a choir leader, and
William's love of music was inherited. He left his father's farm, and
came to Boston, where he first heard a church-organ. Encouraged by Mason
and others to follow music as a profession, he went abroad, studied at
Leipsic, and soon after his return became known as a composer of sacred
tunes. He died in Montclair, N.J., 1868.
"I'M NOT ASHAMED TO OWN MY LORD."
The favorite tune for this spiritual hymn, also by Watts, is old
"Arlington," one of the most useful church melodies in the whole realm
of English psalmody. Its name clings to a Boston street, and the
beautiful chimes of Arlington St. church (Unitarian) annually ring its
music on special occasions, as it has since the bells were tuned:
I'm not ashamed to own my Lord
Or to defend His cause,
Maintain the honor of His Word,
The glory of His cross.
Jesus, my God!--I know His Name;
His Name is all my trust,
Nor will He put my soul to shame
Nor let my hope be lost.
Dr. Thomas Augustine Arne, the creator of "Arlington," was born in
London, 1710, the son of a King St. upholsterer. He studied at Eton, and
though intended for the legal profession, gave his whole mind to music.
At twenty-three he began writing operas for his sister, Susanna (a
singer who afterwards became the famous tragic actress, Mrs. Cibber).
Arne's music to Milton's "Comus," and to "Rule Brittannia" established
his reputation. He was engaged as composer to Drury Lane Theater, and in
1759 received from Oxford his degree of Music Doctor. Later in life he
turned his attention to oratorios, and other forms of sacred music, and
was the first to introduce female voices in choir singing. He died March
5, 1778, chanting hallelujahs, it is said, with his last breath.
"IS THIS THE KIND RETURN?"
Dr. Watts in this hymn gave experimental piety its hour and language of
reflection and penitence:
Is this the kind return?
Are these the thanks we owe,
Thus to abuse Eternal Love
Whence all our blessings flow?
* * * * *
Let past ingratitude
Provoke our weeping eyes.
United in loving wedlock with these words in former years was "Golden
Hill," a chime of sweet counterpoint too rare to bury its authorship
under the vague phrase "A Western Melody." It was caught evidently from
a forest bird[10] that flutes its clear solo in the sunsets of May and
June. There can be no mistaking the imitation--the same compass, the
same upward thrill, the same fall and warbled turn. Old-time folk used
to call for it, "Sing, my Fairweather Bird." It lingers in a few of the
twenty- or thirty-years-ago collections, but stronger voices have
drowned it out of the new.
[Footnote 10: The wood thrush.]
"Thacher," (set to the same hymn,) faintly recalls its melody.
Nevertheless "Thacher" is a good tune. Though commonly written in
sharps, contrasting the B flat of its softer and more liquid rival of
other days, it is one of Handel's strains, and lends the meaning and
pathos of the lyric text to voice and instrument.
"WHEN I SURVEY THE WONDROUS CROSS."
This crown of all the sacred odes of Dr. Watts for the song-service of
the church of God was called by Matthew Arnold the "greatest hymn in the
English language." The day the eminent critic died he heard it sung in
the Sefton Park Presbyterian Church, and repeated the opening lines
softly to himself again and again after the services. The hymn is
certainly _one_ of the greatest in the language. It appeared as No. 7 in
Watts' third edition (about 1710) containing five stanzas. The second
line--
On which the Prince of Glory died,
--read originally--
Where the young Prince of Glory died.
Only four stanzas are now generally used. The omitted one--
His dying crimson like a robe
Spreads o'er His body on the tree;
Then am I dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
--is a flash of tragic imagination, showing the sanguine intensity of
Christian vision in earlier time, when contemplating the Saviour's
passion; but it is too realistic for the spirit and genius of
song-worship. That the great hymn was designed by the writer for
communion seasons, and was inspired by Gal. 6:14, explains the two last
lines if not the whole of the highly colored verse.
_THE TUNE._
One has a wide field of choice in seeking the best musical
interpretation of this royal song of faith and self-effacement:
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.
To match the height and depth of these words with fitting glory of sound
might well have been an ambition of devout composers. Rev. G.C. Wells'
tune in the _Revivalist_, with its emotional chorus, I.B. Woodbury's
"Eucharist" in the _Methodist Hymnal_, Henry Smart's effective choral in
Barnby's _Hymnary_ (No. 170), and a score of others, have woven the
feeling lines into melody with varying success. Worshippers in spiritual
sympathy with the words may question if, after all, old "Hamburg," the
best of Mason's loved Gregorians, does not, alone, in tone and
elocution, rise to the level of the hymn.
"LOVE DIVINE, ALL LOVES EXCELLING."
This evergreen song-wreath to the Crucified, was contributed by Charles
Wesley, in 1746. It is found in his collection of 1756, _Hymns for Those
That Seek and Those That Have Redemption in the Blood of Jesus Christ_.
Love Divine all loves excelling,
Joy of Heaven to earth come down,
Fix in us Thy humble dwelling,
All Thy faithful mercies crown.
* * * * *
Come Almighty to deliver,
Let us all Thy life receive,
Suddenly return, and never,
Nevermore Thy temples leave.
* * * * *
Finish then Thy new creation;
Pure and spotless let us be;
Let us see our whole salvation
Perfectly secured by Thee.
Changed from glory into glory
Till in Heaven we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before Thee
Lost in wonder, love and praise!
The hymn has been set to H. Isaac's ancient tune (1490), to Wyeth's
"Nettleton" (1810), to Thos. H. Bailey's (1777-1839) "Isle of Beauty,
fare thee well" (named from Thomas Moore's song), to Edward Hopkins'
"St. Joseph," and to a multitude of others more or less familiar.
Most familiar of all perhaps, (as in the instance of "Far from mortal
cares retreating,") is its association with "Greenville," the production
of that brilliant but erratic genius and freethinker, Jean Jacques
Rousseau. It was originally a love serenade, ("Days of absence, sad and
dreary") from the opera of _Le Devin du Village_, written about 1752.
The song was commonly known years afterwards as "Rousseau's Dream." But
the unbelieving philosopher, musician, and misguided moralist builded
better than he knew, and probably better than he meant when he wrote his
immortal choral. Whatever he heard in his "dream" (and one legend says
it was a "song of angels") he created a harmony dear to the church he
despised, and softened the hearts of the Christian world towards an evil
teacher who was inspired, like Balaam, to utter one sacred strain.
Rousseau was born in Geneva, 1712, but he never knew his mother, and
neither the affection or interest of his father or of his other
relatives was of the quality to insure the best bringing up of a child.
He died July, 1778. But his song survives, while the world gladly
forgets everything else he wrote. It is almost a pardonable exaggeration
to say that every child in Christendom knows "Greenville."
"WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD."
This charming hymn was written by Addison, the celebrated English poet
and essayist, about 1701, in grateful commemoration of his delivery from
shipwreck in a storm off the coast of Genoa, Italy. It originally
contained thirteen stanzas, but no more than four or six are commonly
sung. It has put the language of devotional gratitude into the mouths of
thousands of humble disciples who could but feebly frame their own:
When all Thy mercies, O my God
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost
In wonder, love and praise.
Unnumbered comforts on my soul
Thy tender care bestowed
Before my infant heart conceived
From whom those comforts flowed.
When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm unseen conveyed me safe,
And led me up to man.
Another hymn of Addison--
How are Thy servants bless'd, O Lord,
--was probably composed after the same return from a foreign voyage. It
has been called his "Traveller's Hymn."
Joseph Addison, the best English writer of his time, was the son of
Lancelot Addison, rector of Milston, Wiltshire, and afterwards Dean of
Litchfield. The distinguished author was born in Milston Rectory, May 1,
1672, and was educated at Oxford. His excellence in poetry, both English
and Latin, gave him early reputation, and a patriotic ode obtained for
him the patronage of Lord Somers. A pension from King William III.
assured him a comfortable income, which was increased by further honors,
for in 1704 he was appointed Commissioner of Appeals, then secretary of
the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and in 1717 Secretary of State. He died
in Holland House, Kensington, near London, June 17, 1719.
His hymns are not numerous, (said to be only five), but they are
remarkable for the simple beauty of their style, as well as for their
Christian spirit. Of his fine metrical version of the 23rd Psalm,--
The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care,
--one of his earliest productions, the tradition is that he gathered its
imagery when a boy living at Netheravon, near Salisbury Plain, during
his lonely two-mile walks to school at Amesbury and back again. All his
hymns appeared first in the _Spectator_, to which he was a prolific
contributor.
_THE TUNE._
The hymn "When all Thy mercies" still has "Geneva" for its vocal mate in
some congregational manuals. The tune is one of the rare survivals of
the old "canon" musical method, the parts coming in one after another
with identical notes. It is always delightful as a performance with its
glory of harmony and its sweet duet, and for generations it had no other
words than Addison's hymn.
John Cole, author of "Geneva," was born in Tewksbury, Eng., 1774, and
came to the United States in his boyhood (1785). Baltimore, Md. became
his American home, and he was educated there. Early in life he became a
musician and music publisher. At least twelve of his principal song
collections from 1800 to 1832 are mentioned by Mr. Hubert P. Main, most
of them sacred and containing many of his own tunes.
He continued to compose music till his death, Aug. 17, 1855. Mr. Cole
was leader of the regimental band known as "The Independent Blues,"
which played in the war of 1812, and was present at the "North Point"
fight, and other battles.
Besides "Geneva," for real feeling and harmonic beauty "Manoah," adapted
from Haydn's Creation, deserves mention as admirably suited to
"Addison's" hymn, and also "Belmont," by Samuel Webbe, which resembles
it in style and sentiment.
Samuel Webbe, composer of "Belmont," was of English parentage but was
born in Minorca, Balearic Islands, in 1740, where his father at that
time held a government appointment; but his father, dying suddenly, left
his family poor, and Samuel was apprenticed to a cabinet-maker. He
served his apprenticeship, and immediately repaired to a London teacher
and began the study of music and languages. Surmounting great
difficulties, he became a competent musician, and made himself popular
as a composer of glees. He was also the author of several masses,
anthems, and hymn-tunes, the best of which are still in occasional use.
Died in London, 1816.
"JESUS, I LOVE THY CHARMING NAME."
When Dr. Doddridge, the author of this hymn, during his useful ministry,
had finished the preparation of a pulpit discourse that strongly
impressed him, he was accustomed, while his heart was yet glowing with
the sentiment that had inspired him, to put the principal thoughts into
metre, and use the hymn thus written at the conclusion of the preaching
of the sermon. This hymn of Christian ardor was written to be sung after
a sermon from Romans 8:35, "Who shall separate us from the love of
Christ?"
Jesus, I love Thy charming name,
'Tis music to mine ear:
Fain would I sound it out so loud
That earth and heaven should hear.
* * * * *
I'll speak the honors of Thy name
With my last laboring breath,
Then speechless, clasp Thee in my arms,
The conqueror of death.
Earlier copies have--
The _antidote_ of death.
Philip Doddridge, D.D., was born in London, June 26, 1702. Educated at
Kingston Grammar School and Kibworth Academy, he became a scholar of
respectable attainments, and was ordained to the Non-conformist
ministry. He was pastor of the Congregational church at Northampton,
from 1729 until his death, acting meanwhile as principal of the
Theological School in that place. In 1749 he ceased to preach and went
to Lisbon for his health, but died there about two years later, of
consumption, Oct. 26, 1752.
_THE TUNE._
The hymn has been sometimes sung to "Pisgah," an old revival piece by
J.C. Lowry (1820) once much heard in camp-meetings, but it is a
pedestrian tune with too many quavers, and a headlong tempo.
Bradbury's "Jazer," in three-four time, is a melody with modulations,
though more sympathetic, but it is hard to divorce the hymn from its
long-time consort, old "Arlington." It has the accent of its sincerity,
and the breath of its devotion.
"LO, ON A NARROW NECK OF LAND."
This hymn of Charles Wesley is always designated now by the above line,
the first of the _second_ stanza as originally written. It is said to
have been composed at Land's End, in Cornwall, with the British Channel
and the broad Atlantic in view and surging on both sides around a
"narrow neck of land."
Lo! on a narrow neck of land,
Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand,
Secure, insensible:
A point of time, a moment's space,
Removes me to that heavenly place,
Or shuts me up in hell.
O God, mine inmost soul convert,
And deeply on my thoughtful heart
Eternal things impress:
Give me to feel their solemn weight,
And tremble on the brink of fate,
And wake to righteousness.
The preachers and poets of the great spiritual movement of the
eighteenth century in England abated nothing in the candor of their
words. The terrible earnestness of conviction tipped their tongues and
pens with fire.
_THE TUNE._
Lady Huntingdon would have lent "Meribah" gladly to this hymn, but Mason
was not yet born. Many times it has been borrowed for Wesley's words
since it came to its own, and the spirit of the pious Countess has
doubtless approved the loan. It is rich enough to furnish forth her own
lyric and more than one other of like matter and metre.
The muscular music of "Ganges" has sometimes carried the hymn, and there
are those who think its thunder is not a whit more Hebraic than the
words require.
"COME YE SINNERS POOR AND NEEDY."
Few hymns have been more frequently sung in prayer-meetings and
religious assemblies during the last hundred and fifty years. Its
author, Joseph Hart, spoke what he knew and testified what he felt. Born
in London, 1712, and liberally educated, he was in his young manhood
very religious, but he went so far astray as to indulge in evil
practices, and even published writings, both original and translated,
against Christianity and religion of any kind. But he could not drink at
the Dead Sea and live. The apples of Sodom sickened him. Conscience
asserted itself, and the pangs of remorse nearly drove him to despair
till he turned back to the source he had forsaken. He alludes to this
experience in the lines--
Let not conscience make you linger,
Nor of fitness fondly dream;
All the fitness He requireth
Is to feel your need of Him.
During Passion Week, 1767, he had an amazing view of the sufferings of
Christ, under the stress of which his heart was changed. In the joy of
this experience he wrote--
Come ye sinners poor and needy,
--and--
Come all ye chosen saints of God.
Probably no two hymn-lines have been oftener repeated than--
If you tarry till you're better
You will never come at all.
The complete form of the original stanzas is:
Come ye sinners poor and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love and power.
He is able,
He is willing; doubt no more.
The whole hymn--ten stanzas--is not sung now as one, but two, the second
division beginning with the line--
Come ye weary, heavy laden.
Rev. Joseph Hart became minister of Jewin St. Congregational Chapel,
London, about 1760, where he labored till his death, May 24, 1768.
_THE TUNE._
A revival song by Jeremiah Ingalls (1764-1828), written about 1804, with
an easy, popular swing and a _sforzando_ chorus--
Turn to the Lord and seek salvation,
--monopolized this hymn for a good many years. The tunes commonly
assigned to it have since been "Greenville" and Von Weber's "Wilmot," in
which last it is now more generally sung--dropping the echo lines at the
end of each stanza.
Carl Maria Von Weber, son of a roving musician, was born in Eutin,
Germany, 1786. He developed no remarkable genius till he was about
twenty years old, though being a fine vocalist, his singing brought him
popularity and gain; but in 1806 he nearly lost his voice by accidently
drinking nitric acid. He was for several years private secretary to Duke
Ludwig at Stuttgart, and in 1813 Chapel-Master at Prague, from which
place he went to Dresden in 1817 as Musik-Director.
Von Weber's Korner songs won the hearts of all Germany; and his immortal
"Der Freischutz" (the Free Archer), and numerous tender melodies like
the airs to "John Anderson, my Jo" and "O Poortith Cauld" have gone to
all civilized nations. No other composer had such feeling for beauty of
sound.
This beloved musician was physically frail and delicate, and died of
untimely decline, during a visit to London in 1826.
"O HAPPY SAINTS WHO DWELL IN LIGHT."
Sometimes printed "O happy _souls_." This poetical and flowing hymn
seems to have been forgotten in the making up of most modern church
hymnals. Hymns on heaven and heavenly joys abound in embarrassing
numbers, but it is difficult to understand why this beautiful lyric
should be _universally_ neglected. It was written probably about 1760,
by Rev. John Berridge, from the text, "Blessed are the dead who die in
the Lord,"
The first line of the second stanza--
Released from sorrow, toil and strife,
--has been tinkered in some of the older hymn-books, where it is found
to read--,
Released from sorrows toil and _grief_,
--not only committing a tautology, but destroying the perfect rhyme with
"life" in the next line. The whole hymn, too, has been much altered by
substituted words and shifted lines, though not generally to the serious
detriment of its meaning and music.
The Rev. John Berridge--friend of the Wesleys, Whitefield, and Lady
Huntingdon--was an eccentric but very worthy and spiritual minister,
born the son of a farmer, in Kingston, Nottinghamshire, Eng., Mar. 1,
1716. He studied at Cambridge, and was ordained curate of Stapleford and
subsequently located as vicar of Everton, 1775. He died Jan. 22, 1793.
He loved to preach, and he was determined that his tombstone should
preach after his voice was still. His epitaph, composed by himself, is
both a testimony and a memoir:
"Here lie the earthly remains of John Berridge, late vicar of
Everton, and an itinerant servant of Jesus Christ, who loved his
Master and His work, and after running His errands many years, was
called up to wait on Him above.
"Reader, art thou born again?
"No salvation without the new birth.
"I was born in sin, February, 1716.
"Remained ignorant of my fallen state till 1730.
"Lived proudly on faith and works for salvation till 1751.
"Admitted to Everton vicarage, 1755.
"Fled to Jesus alone for refuge, 1756.
"Fell asleep in Jesus Christ,--" (1793.)
_THE TUNE._
The once popular score that easily made the hymn a favorite, was
"Salem," in the old _Psalmodist_. It still appears in some note-books,
though the name of its composer is uncertain. Its notes (in 6-8 time)
succeed each other in syllabic modulations that give a soft dactylic
accent to the measure and a wavy current to the lines:
O happy saints that dwell in light,
And walk with Jesus clothed in white,
Safe landed on that peaceful shore,
Where pilgrims meet to part no more:
Released from sorrow, toil and strife,
Death was the gate to endless life,
And now they range the heavenly plains
And sing His love in melting strains.
Another version reads:
----and welcome to an endless life,
Their souls have now begun to prove
The height and depth of Jesus' love.
"THOU DEAR REDEEMER, DYING LAMB."
The author, John Cennick, like Joseph Hart, was led to Christ after a
reckless boyhood and youth, by the work of the Divine Spirit in his
soul, independent of any direct outward influence. Sickened of his
cards, novels, and playhouse pleasures, he had begun a sort of
mechanical reform, when one day, walking in the streets of London, he
suddenly seemed to hear the text spoken "I am thy salvation!" His
consecration began at that moment.
He studied for the ministry, and became a preacher, first under
direction of the Wesleys, then under Whitefield, but afterwards joined
the Moravians, or "Brethren." He was born at Reading, Derbyshire, Eng.,
Dec. 12, 1718, and died in London, July 4, 1755.
_THE TUNE._
The word "Rhine" (in some collections--in others "Emmons") names a
revival tune once so linked with this hymn and so well known that few
religious people now past middle life could enjoy singing it to any
other. With a compass one note beyond an octave and a third, it utters
every line with a clear, bold gladness sure to infect a meeting with its
own spiritual fervor.
Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb,
I love to hear of Thee;
No music like Thy charming name,
Nor half so sweet can be.
The composer of the bright legato melody just described was Frederick
Burgmueller, a young German musician, born in 1804. He was a remarkable
genius, both in composition and execution, but his health was frail, and
he did not live to fulfil the rich possibilities that lay within him. He
died in 1824--only twenty years old. The tune "Rhine" ("Emmons") is from
one of his marches.
"WHILE THEE I SEEK, PROTECTING POWER."
Helen Maria Williams wrote this sweet hymn, probably about the year
1800. She was a brilliant woman, better known in literary society for
her political verses and essays than by her hymns; but the hymn here
noted bears sufficient witness to her deep religious feeling:
While Thee I seek, Protecting Power,
Be my vain wishes stilled,
And may this consecrated hour
With better hopes be filled.
Thy love the power of thought bestowed;
To Thee my thoughts would soar,
Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed,
That mercy I adore.
Miss Williams was born in the north of England, Nov. 30, 1762, but spent
much of her life in London, and in Paris, where she died, Dec. 14, 1827.
_THE TUNE._
Wedded so many years to the gentle, flowing music of Pleyel's "Brattle
Street," few lovers of the hymn recall its words without the melody of
that emotional choral.
The plain psalm-tune, "Simpson," by Louis Spohr, divides the stanzas
into quatrains.
"JESUS MY ALL TO HEAVEN IS GONE."
This hymn, by Cennick, was familiarized to the public more than two
generations ago by its revival tune, sometimes called "Duane Street,"
long-metre double. It is staffed in various keys, but its movement is
full of life and emphasis, and its melody is contagious. The piece was
composed by Rev. George Coles, in 1835.
The fact that this hymn of Cennick with Coles's tune appears in the _New
Methodist Hymnal_ indicates the survival of both in modern favor.
[Illustration: Augustus Montague Toplady]
Jesus my all to heaven is gone,
He whom I fixed my hopes upon;
His track I see, and I'll pursue
The narrow way till Him I view.
The way the holy prophets went,
The road that leads from banishment,
The King's highway of holiness
I'll go for all Thy paths are peace.
The memory has not passed away of the hearty unison with which
prayer-meeting and camp-meeting assemblies used to "crescendo" the last
stanza--
Then will I tell to sinners round
What a dear Saviour I have found;
I'll point to His redeeming blood,
And say "Behold the way to God."
The Rev. George Coles was born in Stewkley, Eng., Jan. 2, 1792, and died
in New York City, May 1, 1858. He was editor of the _N.Y. Christian
Advocate_, and _Sunday School Advocate_, for several years, and was a
musician of some ability, besides being a good singer.
"SWEET THE MOMENTS, RICH IN BLESSING."
The Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley, Rector of Loughgree, county of Galway,
Ireland, revised this hymn under the chastening discipline of a most
trying experience. His brother, the Earl of Ferrars, a licentious man,
murdered an old and faithful servant in a fit of rage, and was executed
at Tyburn for the crime. Sir Walter, after the disgrace and long
distress of the imprisonment, trial, and final tragedy, returned to his
little parish in Ireland, humbled but driven nearer to the Cross.
Sweet the moments, rich in blessing
Which before the Cross I spend;
Life and health and peace possessing
From the sinner's dying Friend.
All the emotion of one who buries a mortifying sorrow in the heart of
Christ, and tries to forget, trembles in the lines of the above hymn as
he changed and adapted it in his saddest but devoutest hours. Its
original writer was the Rev. James Allen, nearly twenty years younger
than himself, a man of culture and piety, but a Christian of shifting
creeds. It is not impossible that he sent his hymn to Shirley to revise.
At all events it owes its present form to Shirley's hand.
Truly blessed is the station
Low before His cross to lie,
While I see Divine Compassion
Beaming in His gracious eye.[11]
[Footnote 11: "Floating in His languid eye" seems to have been the
earlier version.]
The influence of Sir Walter's family misfortune is evident also in the
mood out of which breathed his other trustful lines--
Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive moan
Hath taught these rocks the notes of woe,
(changed now to "hath taught _these scenes_" etc).
Sir Walter Shirley, cousin of the Countess of Huntingdon, was born 1725,
and died in 1786. Even in his last sickness he continued to preach to
his people in his house, seated in his chair.
Rev. James Oswald Allen was born at Gayle, Yorkshire, Eng., June 24,
1743. He left the University of Cambridge after a year's study, and
became an itinerant preacher, but seems to have been a man of unstable
religious views. After roving from one Christian denomination to another
several times, he built a Chapel, and for forty years ministered there
to a small Independent congregation. He died in Gayle, Oct. 31, 1804.
The tune long and happily associated with "Sweet the Moments" is
"Sicily," or the "Sicilian Hymn"--from an old Latin hymn-tune, "O
Sanctissima."
"O FOR A CLOSER WALK WITH GOD."
The author, William Cowper, son of a clergyman, was born at
Berkhampstead, Hertfordshire, Eng., Nov. 15, 1731, and died at Dereham,
Norfolk, April 25, 1800. Through much of his adult life he was afflicted
with a mental ailment inducing melancholia and at times partial
insanity, during which he once attempted suicide. He sought literary
occupation as an antidote to his disorder of mind, and besides a great
number of lighter pieces which diverted him and his friends, composed
"The Task," an able and delightful moral and domestic poetic treatise in
blank verse, and in the same style of verse translated Homer's _Odyssey_
and _Iliad_.
One of the most beloved of English poets, this suffering man was also a
true Christian, and wrote some of our sweetest and most spiritual hymns.
Most of these were composed at Olney, where he resided for a time with
John Newton, his fellow hymnist, and jointly with him issued the volume
known as the _Olney Hymns_.
_THE TUNE._
Music more or less closely identified with this familiar hymn is
Gardiner's "Dedham," and also "Mear," often attributed to Aaron
Williams. Both, about equally with the hymn, are seasoned by time, but
have not worn out their harmony--or their fitness to Cowper's prayer.
William Gardiner was born in Leicester, Eng., March 15, 1770, and died
there Nov. 11, 1853. He was a vocal composer and a "musicographer" or
writer on musical subjects.
One Aaron Williams, to whom "Mear" has by some been credited, was of
Welsh descent, a composer of psalmody and clerk of the Scotch church in
London. He was born in 1734, and died in 1776. Another account, and the
more probable one, names a minister of Boston of still earlier date as
the author of the noble old harmony. It is found in a small New England
collection of 1726, but not in any English or Scotch collection. "Mear"
is presumably an American tune.
"WHAT VARIOUS HINDRANCES WE MEET."
Another hymn of Cowper's; and no one ever suffered more deeply the
plaintive regret in the opening lines, or better wrought into poetic
expression an argument for prayer.
What various hindrances we meet
In coming to a mercy-seat!
Yet who that knows the worth of prayer
But wishes to be often there?
Prayer makes the darkest clouds withdraw,
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw.
The whole hymn is (or once was) so thoroughly learned by heart as to be
fixed in the church among its household words. Preachers to the
diffident do not forget to quote--
Have you no words? ah, think again;
Words flow apace when you _complain_.
* * * * *
Were half the breath thus vainly spent
To Heaven in supplication sent,
Our cheerful song would oftener be,
"Hear what the Lord hath done for me!"
And there is all the lifetime of a proverb in the couplet--
Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.
Tune, Lowell Mason's "Rockingham."
"MY GRACIOUS REDEEMER I LOVE."
This is one of Benjamin Francis's lays of devotion. The Christian
Welshman who bore that name was a Gospel minister full of Evangelical
zeal, who preached in many places, though his pastoral home was with the
Baptist church in Shortwood, Wales. Flattering calls to London could not
tempt him away from his first and only parish, and he remained there
till his triumphant death. He was born in 1734, and died in 1799.
My gracious Redeemer I love,
His praises aloud I'll proclaim,
And join with the armies above,
To shout His adorable name.
To gaze on His glories divine
Shall be my eternal employ;
To see them incessantly shine,
My boundless, ineffable joy.
Tune, "Birmingham"--an English melody. Anonymous.
"BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS."
Perhaps the best hymn-expression of sacred brotherhood, at least it has
had, and still has the indorsement of constant use. The author, John
Fawcett, D.D., is always quoted as the example of his own words, since
he sacrificed ambition and personal interest to Christian affection.
Born near Bradford, Yorkshire, Jan. 6, 1739, and converted under the
preaching of Whitefield, he joined the Methodists, but afterwards
became a member of the new Baptist church in Bradford. Seven years later
he was ordained over the Baptist Society at Wainsgate. In 1772 he
received a call to succeed the celebrated Dr. Gill, in London, and
accepted. But at the last moment, when his goods were packed for
removal, the clinging love of his people, weeping their farewells around
him, melted his heart. Their passionate regrets were more than either he
or his good wife could withstand.
"I will _stay_," he said; "you may unpack my goods, and we will live for
the Lord lovingly together."
It was out of this heart experience that the tender hymn was born.
Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one,
Our comforts and our cares.
Dr. Fawcett died July 25, 1817.
Tune, "Boylston," L. Mason; or "Dennis," H.G. Naegeli.
"I LOVE THY KINGDOM, LORD."
"Dr. Dwight's Hymn," as this is known _par eminence_ among many others
from his pen, is one of the imperishable lyrics of the Christian Church.
The real spirit of the hundred and twenty-second Psalm is in it, and it
is worthy of Watts in his best moments.
Timothy Dwight was born at Northampton, Mass, May 14, 1752, and
graduated at Yale College at the age of thirteen. He wrote several
religious poems of considerable length. In 1795 he was elected President
of Yale College, and in 1800 he revised Watts' Psalms, at the request of
the General Association of Connecticut, adding a number of translations
of his own.
I love Thy kingdom, Lord,
The house of Thine abode,
The Church our blest Redeemer saved
With His own precious blood.
I love Thy Church, O God;
Her walls before Thee stand,
Dear as the apple of Thine eye,
And graven on Thy hand.
Dr. Dwight died Jan. 11, 1817.
Tune, "St. Thomas," Aaron Williams, (1734-1776.)
Mr. Hubert P. Main, however, believes the author to be Handel. It
appeared as the second movement of a four-movement tune in Williams's
1762 collection, which contained pieces by the great masters, with his
own; but while not credited to Handel, Williams did not claim it
himself.
"MID SCENES OF CONFUSION."
This hymn, common in chapel hymnbooks half a century and more ago, is
said to have been written by the Rev. David Denham, about 1826.
_THE TUNE._
"Home, Sweet Home" was composed, according to the old account, by John
Howard Payne as one of the airs in his opera of "Clari, the Maid of
Milan," which was brought out in London at Drury Lane in 1823. But
Charles Mackay, the English poet, in the London Telegraph, asserts that
Sir Henry Bishop, an eminent musician, in his vain search for a Sicilian
national air, _invented_ one, and that it was the melody of "Home, sweet
Home," which he afterwards set to Howard Payne's words. Mr. Mackay had
this story from Sir Henry himself.
Mid scenes of confusion and creature complaints
How sweet to my soul is communion with saints,
To find at the banquet of mercy there's room
And feel in the presence of Jesus at home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
Prepare me, dear Savior for glory, my home.
John Howard Payne, author at least, of the original _words_ of "Home,
Sweet Home," was born in New York City June 9, 1791. He was a singer,
and became an actor and theatrical writer. He composed the words of his
immortal song in the year 1823, when he was himself homeless and hungry
and sheltered temporarily in an attic in Paris.
His fortunes improved at last, and he was appointed to represent his
native country as consul in Tunis, where he died, Apr. 9, 1852.
"O, COULD I SPEAK THE MATCHLESS WORTH."
The writer of this hymn of worshiping ardor and exalted Christian love
was an English Baptist minister, the Rev. Samuel Medley. He was born at
Cheshunt, Hertfordshire, June 23, 1738, and at eighteen years of age
entered the Royal Navy, where, though he had been piously educated, he
became dissipated and morally reckless. Wounded in a sea fight off Cape
Lagos, and in dread of amputation he prayed penitently through nearly a
whole night, and in the morning the surprised surgeon told him his limb
could be saved.
The voice of his awakened conscience was not wholly disregarded, though
it was not till some time after he left the navy that his vow to begin a
religious life was sincerely kept. After teaching school for four years,
he began to preach in 1766, Wartford in Hertfordshire being the first
scene of his godly labors. He died in Liverpool July 17, 1799, at the
end of a faithful ministry there of twenty-seven years. A small edition
of his hymns was published during his lifetime, in 1789.
O could I speak the matchless worth,
O could I sound the glories forth
Which in my Saviour shine,
I'd soar and touch the heavenly strings
And vie with Gabriel while he sings,
In notes almost divine!
_THE TUNE._
"Colebrook," a plain choral; but with a noble movement, by Henry Smart,
is the English music to this fine lyric, but Dr. Mason's "Ariel" is the
American favorite. It justifies its name, for it has wings--in both full
harmony and duet--and its melody feels the glory of the hymn at every
bar.
"ROCK OF AGES CLEFT FOR ME."
Augustus Montagu Toplady, author of this almost universal hymn, was born
at Farnham, Surrey, Eng., Nov. 4, 1740. Educated at Westminster School,
and Trinity College, Dublin, he took orders in the Established Church.
In his doctrinal debates with the Wesleys he was a harsh
controversialist; but his piety was sincere, and marked late in life by
exalted moods. Physically he was frail, and his fiery zeal wore out his
body. Transferred from his vicarage at Broad Hembury, Devonshire, to
Knightsbridge, London, at twenty-eight years of age, his health began to
fail before he was thirty-five, and in one of his periods of illness he
wrote--
When languor and disease invade
This trembling house of clay,
'Tis sweet to look beyond my pains
And long to fly away.
And the same homesickness for heaven appears under a different figure in
another hymn--
At anchor laid remote from home,
Toiling I cry, "Sweet Spirit, come!
Celestial breeze, no longer stay,
But swell my sails, and speed my way!"
Possessed of an ardent religious nature, his spiritual frames
exemplified in a notable degree the emotional side of Calvinistic piety.
Edward Payson himself, was not more enraptured in immediate view of
death than was this young London priest and poet. Unquestioning faith
became perfect certainty. As in the bold metaphor of "Rock of Ages," the
faith finds voice in--
A debtor to mercy alone,
--and other hymns in his collection of 1776, two years before the end
came. Most of this devout writing was done in his last days, and he
continued it as long as strength was left, until, on the 11th of August,
1778, he joyfully passed away.
Somehow there was always something peculiarly heartsome and "filling" to
pious minds in the lines of Toplady in days when his minor hymns were
more in vogue than now, and they were often quoted, without any idea
whose making they were. "At anchor laid" was crooned by good old ladies
at their spinning-wheels, and godly invalids found "When languor and
disease invade" a comfort next to their Bibles.
"Rock of Ages" is said to have been written after the author, during a
suburban walk, had been forced to shelter himself from a thunder
shower, under a cliff. This is, however, but one of several stories
about the birth-occasion of the hymn.
It has been translated into many languages. One of the foreign
dignitaries visiting Queen Victoria at her "Golden Jubilee" was a native
of Madagascar, who surprised her by asking leave to sing, but delighted
her, when leave was given, by singing "Rock of Ages." It was a favorite
of hers--and of Prince Albert, who whispered it when he was dying.
People who were school-children when Rev. Justus Vinton came home to
Willington, Ct., with two Karen pupils, repeat to-day the "la-pa-ta,
i-oo-i-oo" caught by sound from the brown-faced boys as they sang their
native version of "Rock of Ages."
Gen. J.E.B. Stuart, the famous Confederate Cavalry leader, mortally
wounded at Yellow Tavern, Va., and borne to a Richmond hospital, called
for his minister and requested that "Rock of Ages" be sung to him.
The last sounds heard by the few saved from the wreck of the steamer
"London" in the Bay of Biscay, 1866, were the voices of the helpless
passengers singing "Rock of Ages" as the ship went down.
A company of Armenian Christians sang "Rock of Ages" in their native
tongue while they were being massacred in Constantinople.
No history of this grand hymn of faith forgets the incident of Gladstone
writing a Latin translation of it while sitting in the House of
Commons. That remarkable man was as masterly in his scholarly
recreations as in his statesmanship. The supreme Christian sentiment of
the hymn had permeated his soul till it spoke to him in a dead language
as eloquently as in the living one; and this is what he made of it:
_TOPLADY._
Rock of ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.
Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfil Thy law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone,
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress,
Helpless, look to Thee for grace:
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash, me, Saviour, or I die.
Whilst I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyestrings break in death;
When I soar through tracts unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment throne,
Rock of ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
_GLADSTONE._
Jesus, pro me perforatus,
Condar intra tuum latus;
Tu per lympham profluentem,
Tu per sanguinem tepentem,
In peccata mi redunda,
Tolle culpam, sordes munda!
Coram Te nec justus forem
Quamvis tota vi laborem,
Nec si fide nunquam cesso,
Fletu stillans indefesso;
Tibi soli tantum munus--
Salva me, Salvator Unus!
Nil in manu mecum fero,
Sed me versus crucem gero:
Vestimenta nudus oro,
Opem debilis imploro,
Fontem Christi quaero immundus,
Nisi laves, moribundus.
Dum hos artus vita regit,
Quando nox sepulcro legit;
Mortuos quum stare jubes,
Sedens Judex inter nubes;--
Jesus, pro me perforatus,
Condar intra tuum latus!
The wonderful hymn has suffered the mutations common to time and taste.
When I soar thro' tracts unknown
--becomes--
When I soar to worlds unknown,
--getting rid of the unpoetic word, and bettering the elocution, but
missing the writer's thought (of the unknown _path_,--instead of going
to many "worlds"). The Unitarians have their version, with substitutes
for the "atonement lines."
But the Christian lyric maintains its life and inspiration through the
vicissitudes of age and use, as all intrinsically superior things can
and will,--and as in the twentieth line,--
When my eyestrings break in death;
--modernized to--
When my eyelids close in death,
--the hymn will ever adapt itself to the new exigencies of common
speech, without losing its vitality and power.
_THE TUNE._
A happy inspiration of Dr. Thomas Hastings made the hymn and music
inevitably one. Almost anywhere to call for the tune of "Toplady"
(namesake of the pious poet) is as unintelligible to the multitude as
"Key" would be to designate the "Star-spangled Banner." The common
people--thanks to Dr. Hastings--have learned "Rock of Ages" by _sound_.
Thomas Hastings was born in Washington, Ct., 1784. For eight years he
was editor of the _Western Recorder_, but he gave his life to church
music, and besides being a talented tone-poet he wrote as many as six
hundred hymns. In 1832, by invitation from twelve New York churches, he
went to that city, and did the main work of his life there, dying, in
1872, at the good old age of eighty-nine. His musical collections number
fifty-three. He wrote his famous tune in 1830.
[Illustration: Thomas Hastings]
"MY SOUL BE ON THY GUARD"
Strangely enough, this hymn, a trumpet note of Christian warning and
resolution, was written by one who himself fell into unworthy ways.[12]
But the one strong and spiritual watch-song by which he is remembered
appeals for him, and lets us know possibly, something of his own
conflicts. We can be thankful for the struggle he once made, and for the
hymn it inspired. It is a voice of caution to others.
[Footnote 12: I have been unable to verify this statement found in Mr.
Butterworth's "Story of the Hymns."--T.B.]
George Heath, the author, was an English minister, born in 1781; died
1822. For a time he was pastor of a Presbyterian Church at Honiton,
Devonshire, and was evidently a prolific writer, having composed a
hundred and forty-four hymns, an edition of which was printed.
_THE TUNE._
No other has been so familiarly linked with the words as Lowell Mason's
"Laban" (1830). It has dash and animation enough to reenforce the hymn,
and give it popular life, even if the hymn had less earnestness and
vigor of its own.
Ne'er think the vict'ry won
Nor lay thine armor down:
Thy arduous work will not be done
Till thou hast gained thy crown.
Fight on, my soul till death
Shall bring thee to thy God;
He'll take thee at thy parting breath
To His divine abode.
"PEOPLE OF THE LIVING GOD."
Montgomery _felt_ every line of this hymn as he committed it to paper.
He wrote it when, after years in the "swim" of social excitements and
ambitions, where his young independence swept him on, he came back to
the little church of his boyhood. His father and mother had gone to the
West Indies as missionaries, and died there. He was forty-three years
old when, led by divine light, he sought readmission to the Moravian
"meeting" at Fulneck, and anchored happily in a haven of peace.
People of the living God
I have sought the world around,
Paths of sin and sorrow trod,
Peace and comfort nowhere found:
Now to you my spirit turns--
Turns a fugitive unblest;
Brethren, where your altar burns,
Oh, receive me into rest.
James Montgomery, son of Rev. John Montgomery, was born at Irvine,
Ayrshire, Scotland, Nov. 4, 1771, and educated at the Moravian Seminary
at Fulneck, Yorkshire, Eng. He became the editor of the _Sheffield
Iris_, and his pen was busy in non-professional as well as professional
work until old age. He died in Sheffield, April 30, 1854.
His literary career was singularly successful; and a glance through any
complete edition of his poems will tell us why. His hymns were all
published during his lifetime, and all, as well as his longer pieces,
have the purity and polished beauty, if not the strength, of Addison's
work. Like Addison, too, he could say that he had written no line which,
dying, he would wish to blot.
The best of Montgomery was in his hymns. These were too many to
enumerate here, and the more enduring ones too familiar to need
enumeration. The church and the world will not soon forget "The Home in
Heaven,"--
Forever with the Lord,
Amen, so let it be.
Life from the dead is in that word;
'Tis immortality.
Nor--
O where shall rest be found,
--with its impressive couplet--
'Tis not the whole of life to live
Nor all of death to die.
Nor the haunting sweetness of--
There is a calm for those who weep.
Nor, indeed, the hymn of Christian love just now before us.
_THE TUNE._
The melody exactly suited to the gentle trochaic step of the home-song,
"People of the living God," is "Whitman," composed for it by Lowell
Mason. Few Christians, in America, we venture to say, could hear an
instrument play "Whitman" without mentally repeating Montgomery's words.
"TO LEAVE MY DEAR FRIENDS."
This hymn, called "The Bower of Prayer," was dear to Christian hearts in
many homes and especially in rural chapel worship half a century ago and
earlier, and its sweet legato melody still lingers in the memories of
aged men and women.
Elder John Osborne, a New Hampshire preacher of the "Christian"
(_Christ-ian_) denomination, is said to have composed the tune (and
possibly the words) about 1815--though apparently the music was arranged
from a flute interlude in one of Haydn's themes. The warbling notes of
the air are full of heart-feeling, and usually the best available treble
voice sang it as a solo.
To leave my dear friends and from neighbors to part,
And go from my home, it affects not my heart
Like the thought of absenting myself for a day
From that blest retreat I have chosen to pray,
I have chosen to pray.
The early shrill notes of the loved nightingale
That dwelt in the bower, I observed as my bell:
It called me to duty, while birds in the air
Sang anthems of praises as I went to prayer,
As I went to prayer.[13]
How sweet were the zephyrs perfumed by the pine,
The ivy, the balsam, the wild eglantine,
But sweeter, O, sweeter superlative were
The joys that I tasted in answer to prayer,
In answer to prayer.
[Footnote 13: The _American Vocalist_ omits this stanza as too fanciful
as well as too crude]
"SAVIOUR, THY DYING LOVE."
This hymn of grateful piety was written in 1862, by Rev. S. Dryden
Phelps, D.D., of New Haven, and first published in _Pure Gold_, 1871;
afterwards in the (earlier) _Baptist Hymn and Tune Book_.
Saviour, Thy dying love
Thou gavest me,
Nor should I aught withhold
Dear Lord, from Thee.
* * * * *
Give me a faithful heart,
Likeness to Thee,
That each departing day
Henceforth may see
Some work of love begun,
Some deed of kindness done,
Some wand'rer sought and won,
Something for Thee.
The penultimate line, originally "Some sinful wanderer won," was altered
by the author himself. The hymn is found in most Baptist hymnals, and
was inserted by Mr. Sankey in _Gospel Hymns No. 1_. It has since won its
way into several revival collections and undenominational manuals.
Rev. Sylvester Dryden Phelps, D.D., was born in Suffield, Ct., May 15,
1816, and studied at the Connecticut Literary Institution in that town.
An early call to the ministry turned his talents to the service of the
church, and his long settlement--comprising what might be called his
principal life work--was in New Haven, where he was pastor of the First
Baptist church twenty-nine years. He died there Nov. 23, 1895.
_THE TUNE._
The Rev. Robert Lowry admired the hymn, and gave it a tune perfectly
suited to its metre and spirit. It has never been sung in any other. The
usual title of it is "Something for Jesus." The meaning and sentiment of
both words and music are not unlike Miss Havergal's--
I gave my life for thee.
"IN SOME WAY OR OTHER."
This song of Christian confidence was written by Mrs. Martha A.W. Cook,
wife of the Rev. Parsons Cook, editor of the _Puritan Recorder_, Boston.
It was published in the _American Messenger_ in 1870, and is still in
use here, as a German version of it is in Germany. The first stanza
follows, in the two languages:
In some way or other the Lord will provide.
It may not be my way,
It may not be thy way,
And yet in His own way
The Lord will provide.
Sei's so oder anders, der Herr wird's versehn;
Mag's nicht sein, wie ich will,
Mag's nicht sein, wie du willst,
Doch wird's sein, wie Er will:
Der Herr wird's versehn.
In the English version the easy flow of the two last lines into one
sentence is an example of rhythmic advantage over the foreign syntax.
Mrs. Cook was married to the well-known clergyman and editor, Parsons
Cook, (1800-1865) in Bridgeport, Ct., and survived him at his death in
Lynn, Mass. She was Miss Martha Ann Woodbridge, afterwards Mrs. Hawley,
and a widow at the time of her re-marriage as Mr. Cook's second wife.
_THE TUNE._
Professor Calvin S. Harrington, of Wesleyan University, Middletown, Ct.,
set music to the words as printed in _Winnowed Hymns_ (1873) and
arranged by Dr. Eben Tourjee, organizer of the great American Peace
Jubilee in Boston. In the _Gospel Hymns_ it is, however, superseded by
the more popular composition of Philip Phillips.
Dr. Eben Tourjee, late Dean of the College of Music in Boston
University, and founder and head of the New England Conservatory, was
born in Warwick, R.I., June 1, 1834. With only an academy education he
rose by native genius, from a hard-working boyhood to be a teacher of
music and a master of its science. From a course of study in Europe he
returned and soon made his reputation as an organizer of musical schools
and sangerfests. The New England Conservatory of Music was first
established by him in Providence, but removed in 1870 to Boston, its
permanent home. His doctorate of music was conferred upon him by
Wesleyan University. Died in Boston, April 12, 1891.
Philip Phillips, known as "the singing Pilgrim," was born in Jamestown,
Chautauqua, Co., N.Y., Aug. 13, 1834. He compiled twenty-nine
collections of sacred music for Sunday schools, gospel meetings, etc.;
also a _Methodist Hymn and Tune Book_, 1866. He composed a great number
of tunes, but wrote no hymns. Some of his books were published in
London, for he was a cosmopolitan singer, and traveled through Europe
and Australia as well as America. Died in Delaware, O., June 25, 1875.
"NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE."
Mr. William Stead, fond of noting what is often believed to be the
"providential chain of causes" in everything that happens, recalls the
fact that Benjamin Flower, editor of the _Cambridge Intelligencer_,
while in jail (1798) at the instigation of Bp. Watson for an article
defending the French Revolution, and criticising the Bishop's political
course, was visited by several sympathizing ladies, one of whom was Miss
Eliza Gould. The young lady's first acquaintance with him there in his
cell led to an attachment which eventuated in marriage. Of that marriage
Sarah Flower was born. By the theory of providential sequences Mr. Stead
makes it appear that the forgotten vindictiveness of a British prelate
"was the _causa causans_ of one of the most spiritual and aspiring hymns
in the Christian Hymnary."
"Nearer, My God, to Thee" was on the lips of President McKinley as he
lay dying by a murderer's wicked shot. It is dear to President Roosevelt
for its memories of the battle of Las Quasimas, where the Rough Riders
sang it at the burial of their slain comrades. Bishop Marvin was saved
by it from hopeless dejection, while practically an exile during the
Civil War, by hearing it sung in the wilds of Arkansas, by an old woman
in a log hut.
A letter from Pittsburg, Pa., to a leading Boston paper relates the name
and experience of a forger who had left the latter city and wandered
eight years a fugitive from justice. On the 5th of November, (Sunday,)
1905, he found himself in Pittsburg, and ventured into the Dixon
Theatre, where a religious service was being held, to hear the music.
The hymn "Nearer, My God, to Thee" so overcame him that he went out
weeping bitterly. He walked the floor of his room all night, and in the
morning telephoned for the police, confessed his name and crime, and
surrendered himself to be taken back to the Boston authorities.
Mrs. Sarah Flower Adams, author of the noble hymn (supposed to have been
written in 1840), was born at Harlow, Eng., Feb. 22, 1805, and died
there in 1848. At her funeral another of her hymns was sung, ending--
When falls the shadow, cold in death
I yet will sing with fearless breath,
As comes to me in shade or sun,
"Father, Thy will, not mine, be done."
The attempts to _evangelize_ "Nearer, My God, to Thee" by those who
cannot forget that Mrs. Adams was a Unitarian, are to be deplored. Such
zeal is as needless as trying to sectarianize an Old Testament Psalm.
The poem is a perfect religious piece--to be sung as it stands, with
thanks that it was ever created.
_THE TUNE._
In English churches (since 1861) the hymn was and may still be sung to
"Horbury," composed by Rev. John B. Dykes, and "St. Edmund," by Sir
Arthur Sullivan. Both tunes are simple and appropriate, but such a hymn
earns and inevitably acquires a single tune-voice, so that its music
instantly names it by its words when played on instruments. Such a voice
was given it by Lowell Mason's "Bethany," (1856). (Why not "Bethel,"
instead, every one who notes the imagery of the words must wonder.)
"Bethany" appealed to the popular heart, and long ago (in America) hymn
and tune became each other's property. It is even simpler than the
English tunes, and a single hearing fixes it in memory.
"I NEED THEE EVERY HOUR."
Mrs. Annie Sherwood Hawks, who wrote this hymn in 1872, was born in
Hoosick, N.Y., in 1835.
She sent the hymn (five stanzas) to Dr. Lowry, who composed its tune,
adding a chorus, to make it more effective. It first appeared in a small
collection of original songs prepared by Lowry and Doane for the
National Baptist Sunday School Association, which met at Cincinnati, O.,
November, 1872, and was sung there.
I need Thee every hour,
Most gracious Lord,
No tender voice like Thine
Can peace afford.
CHORUS.
I need Thee, Oh, I need Thee,
Every hour I need Thee;
Oh, bless me now, my Saviour,
I come to Thee!
One instance, at least, of a hymn made doubly impressive by its chorus
will be attested by all who have sung or heard the pleading words and
music of Mrs. Hawks' and Dr. Lowry's "I need Thee, Oh, I need Thee."
"I GAVE MY LIFE FOR THEE."
This was written in her youth by Frances Ridley Havergal, and was
suggested by the motto over the head of Christ in the great picture,
"Ecce Homo," in the Art Gallery of Dusseldorf, Prussia, where she was at
school. The sight--as was the case with young Count Zinzendorf--seems to
have had much to do with the gifted girl's early religious experience,
and indeed exerted its influence on her whole life. The motto read "I
did this for thee; what doest thou for me?" and the generative effect of
the solemn picture and its question soon appeared in the hymn that
flowed from Miss Havergal's heart and pen.
I gave my life for thee,
My precious blood I shed,
That thou might'st ransomed be
And quickened from the dead.
I gave my life for thee:
What hast thou given for me?
Miss Frances Ridley Havergal, sometimes called "The Theodosia of the
19th century," was born at Astley, Worcestershire, Eng., Dec. 14, 1836.
Her father, Rev. William Henry Havergal, a clergyman of the Church of
England, was himself a poet and a skilled musician, and much of the
daughter's ability came to her by natural bequest as well as by
education. Born a poet, she became a fine instrumentalist, a composer
and an accomplished linguist. Her health was frail, but her life was a
devoted one, and full of good works. Her consecrated _words_ were
destined to outlast her by many generations.
"Writing is _praying_ with me," she said. Death met her in 1879, when
still in the prime of womanhood.
_THE TUNE._
The music that has made this hymn of Miss Havergal familiar in America
is named from its first line, and was composed by the lamented Philip P.
Bliss (christened Philipp Bliss[14]), a pupil of Dr. George F. Root.
[Footnote 14: Mr. Bliss himself changed the spelling of his name,
preferring to let the third P. do duty alone, as a middle initial.]
He was born in Rome, Pa., Jan. 9, 1838, and less than thirty-nine years
later suddenly ended his life, a victim of the awful railroad disaster
at Ashtabula O., Dec. 29, 1876, while returning from a visit to his aged
mother. His wife, Lucy Young Bliss, perished with him there, in the
swift flames that enveloped the wreck of the train.
The name of Mr. Bliss had become almost a household word through his
numerous popular Christian melodies, which were the American beginning
of the series of _Gospel Hymns_. Many of these are still favorite
prayer-meeting tunes throughout the country and are heard in
song-service at Sunday-school and city mission meetings.
"JESUS KEEP ME NEAR THE CROSS."
This hymn, one of the best and probably most enduring of Fanny J.
Crosby's sacred lyrics, was inspired by Col. 1:29.
Frances Jane Crosby (Mrs. Van Alstyne) the blind poet and hymnist, was
born in Southeast, N.Y., March 24, 1820. She lost her eyesight at the
age of six. Twelve years of her younger life were spent in the New York
Institution for the Blind, where she became a teacher, and in 1858 was
happily married to a fellow inmate, Mr. Alexander Van Alstyne, a
musician.
George F. Root was for a time musical instructor at the Institution, and
she began early to write words to his popular song-tunes. "Rosalie, the
Prairie Flower," and the long favorite melody, "There's Music in the
Air" are among the many to which she supplied the text and the song
name.
She resides in Bridgeport, Ct., where she enjoys a serene and happy old
age. She has written over six thousand hymns, and possibly will add
other pearls to the cluster before she goes up to join the singing
saints.
Jesus, keep me near the Cross,
There a precious Fountain
Free to all, a healing stream,
Flows from Calv'ry's mountain.
CHORUS.
In the Cross, in the Cross
Be my glory ever,
Till my raptured soul shall find
Rest beyond the river.
* * * * *
Near the Cross! O Lamb of God,
Bring its scenes before me;
Help me walk from day to day
With its shadows o'er me.
CHORUS.
William Howard Doane, writer of the music to this hymn, was born in
Preston, Ct., Feb. 3, 1831. He studied at Woodstock Academy, and
subsequently acquired a musical education which earned him the degree of
Doctor of Music conferred upon him by Denison University in 1875. Having
a mechanical as well as musical gift, he patented more than seventy
inventions, and was for some years engaged with manufacturing concerns,
both as employee and manager, but his interest in song-worship and in
Sunday-school and church work never abated, and he is well known as a
trainer of choirs and composer of some of the best modern devotional
tunes. His home is in Cincinnati, O.
"I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY."
This threnody (we may almost call it) of W.A. Muhlenberg, illustrating
one phase of Christian experience, was the outpouring of a poetic
melancholy not uncommon to young and finely strung souls. He composed it
in his twenties,--long before he became "Doctor" Muhlenberg,--and for
years afterwards tried repeatedly to alter it to a more cheerful tone.
But the poem had its mission, and it had fastened itself in the public
imagination, either by its contagious sentiment or the felicity of its
tune, and the author was obliged to accept the fame of it as it
originally stood.
William Augustus Muhlenberg D.D. was born in Philadelphia, Sept. 16,
1796, the great-grandson of Dr. Henry M. Muhlenberg, founder of the
Lutheran church in America. In 1817 he left his ancestral communion, and
became an Episcopal priest.
As Rector of St. James church, Lancaster, Pa., he interested himself in
the improvement of ecclesiastical hymnody, and did much good reforming
work. After a noble and very active life as promoter of religious
education and Christian union, and as a friend and benefactor of the
poor, he died April, 8, 1877, in St. Luke's Hospital, N.Y.
_THE TUNE._
This was composed by Mr. George Kingsley in 1833, and entitled
"Frederick" (dedicated to the Rev. Frederick T. Gray). Issued first as
sheet music, it became popular, and soon found a place in the hymnals.
Dr. Louis Benson says of the conditions and the fancy of the time, "The
standard of church music did not differ materially from that of parlor
music.... Several editors have attempted to put a newer tune in the
place of Mr. Kingsley's. It was in vain, simply because words and melody
both appeal to the same taste."
[Illustration: Frances Ridley Havergal]
"SUN OF MY SOUL, MY SAVIOUR DEAR."
This gem from Keble's _Christian Year_ illustrates the life and
character of its pious author, and, like all the hymns of that
celebrated collection, is an incitive to spiritual thought for the
thoughtless, as well as a language for those who stand in the Holy of
Holies.
The Rev. John Keble was born in Caln, St. Aldwyn, April 25, 1792. He
took his degree of A.M. and was ordained and settled at Fairford, where
he began the parochial work that ceased only with his life. He died at
Bournmouth, March 29, 1866.
His settlement at Fairford, in charge of three small curacies, satisfied
his modest ambition, though altogether they brought him only about L100
per year. Here he preached, wrote his hymns and translations, performed
his pastoral work, and was happy. Temptation to wider fields and larger
salary never moved him.
_THE TUNE._
The music to this hymn of almost unparalleled poetic and spiritual
beauty was arranged from a German Choral of Peter Ritter (1760-1846) by
William Henry Monk, Mus. Doc., born London, 1823. Dr. Monk was a
lecturer, composer, editor, and professor of vocal music at King's
College. This noble tune appears sometimes under the name "Hursley" and
supersedes an earlier one ("Halle") by Thomas Hastings.
Sun of my soul, my Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near.
O may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servants' eyes.
* * * * *
Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I cannot die.
The tune "Hursley" is a choice example of polyphonal sweetness in
uniform long notes of perfect chord.
The tune of "Canonbury," by Robert Schumann, set to Keble's hymn, "New
every morning is the love," is deservedly a favorite for flowing long
metres, but it could never replace "Hursley" with "Sun of my soul."
"DID CHRIST O'ER SINNERS WEEP?"
The Rev. Benjamin Beddome wrote this tender hymn-poem while pastor of
the Baptist Congregation at Bourton-on-the-water, Gloucestershire, Eng.
He was born at Henley, Chatwickshire, Jan. 23, 1717. Settled in 1743,
he remained with the same church till his death, Sept. 3, 1795. His
hymns were not collected and published till 1818.
_THE TUNE._
"Dennis," a soft and smoothly modulated harmony, is oftenest sung to the
words, and has no note out of sympathy with their deep feeling.
Did Christ o'er sinners weep,
And shall our cheeks be dry?
Let floods of penitential grief
Burst forth from every eye.
The Son of God in tears
Admiring angels see!
Be thou astonished, O my soul;
He shed those tears for thee.
He wept that we might weep;
Each sin demands a tear:
In heaven alone no sin is found,
And there's no weeping there.
The tune of "Dennis" was adapted by Lowell Mason from Johann Georg
Naegeli, a Swiss music publisher, composer and poet. He was born in
Zurich, 1768. It is told of him that his irrepressible genius once
tempted him to violate the ethics of authorship. While publishing
Beethoven's three great solo sonatas (Opus 31) he interpolated two bars
of his own, an act much commented upon in musical circles, but which
does not seem to have cost him Beethoven's friendship. Possibly, like
Murillo to the servant who meddled with his paintings, the great master
forgave the liberty, because the work was so good.
Naegeli's compositions are mostly vocal, for school and church use,
though some are of a gay and playful nature. The best remembered of his
secular and sacred styles are his blithe aria to the song of Moore,
"Life let us cherish, while yet the taper glows" and the sweet choral
that voices Beddome's hymn.
"MY JESUS, I LOVE THEE."
The real originator of the _Coronation Hymnal_, a book into whose making
went five years of prayer, was Dr. A.J. Gordon, late Pastor of the
Clarendon St. Baptist church, Boston. While the volume was slowly taking
form and plan he was wont to hum to himself, or cause to be played by
one of his family, snatches and suggestions of new airs that came to him
in connection with his own hymns, and others which seemed to have no
suitable music. The anonymous hymn, "My Jesus, I Love Thee," he found in
a London hymn-book, and though the tune to which it had been sung in
England was sent to him some time later, it did not sound sympathetic.
Dissatisfied, and with the ideal in his mind of what the feeling should
be in the melody to such a hymn, he meditated and prayed over the words
till in a moment of inspiration the beautiful air sang itself to him[15]
which with its simple concords has carried the hymn into the chapels of
every denomination.
[Footnote 15: The fact that this sweet melody recalls to some a similar
tune sung sixty years ago reminds us again of the story of the tune
"America." It is not impossible that an unconscious _memory_ helped to
shape the air that came to Dr. Gordon's mind; though unborrowed
similarities have been inevitable in the whole history of music.]
My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine,
For Thee all the pleasures of sin I resign;
My gracious Redeemer, my Saviour art Thou,
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.
* * * * *
I will love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death,
And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath,
And say when the death-dew lies cold on my brow,
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.
In mansions of glory and endless delight
I'll ever adore Thee, unveiled to my sight,
And sing, with the glittering crown on my brow,
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.
The memory of the writer returns to a day in a railway-car en route to
the great Columbian Fair in Chicago when the tired passengers were
suddenly surprised and charmed by the music of this melody. A young
Christian man and woman, husband and wife, had begun to sing "My Jesus,
I love Thee." Their voices (a tenor and soprano) were clear and sweet,
and every one of the company sat up to listen with a look of mingled
admiration and relief. Here was something, after all, to make a long
journey less tedious. They sang all the four verses and paused. There
was no clapping of hands, for a reverential hush had been cast over the
audience by the sacred music. Instead of the inevitable applause that
follows mere entertainment, a gentle but eager request for more secured
the repetition of the delightful duet. This occurred again and again,
till every one in the car--and some had never heard the tune or words
before--must have learned them by heart. Fatigue was forgotten, miles
had been reduced to furlongs in a weary trip, and a company of strangers
had been lifted to a holier plane of thought.
Besides this melody there are four tunes by Dr. Gordon in his
collection, three of them with his own words. In all there are eleven of
his hymns. Of these the "Good morning in Glory," set to his music, is an
emotional lyric admirable in revival meetings, and the one beginning "O
Holy Ghost, Arise" is still sung, and called for affectionately as
"Gordon's Hymn."
Rev. Adoniram Judson Gordon D.D. was born in New Hampton, N.H., April
19, 1836, and died in Boston, Feb. 2d, 1895, after a life of unsurpassed
usefulness to his fellowmen and devotion to his Divine Master. Like
Phillips Brooks he went to his grave "in all his glorious prime," and
his loss is equally lamented. He was a descendant of John Robinson of
Leyden.
CHAPTER IV.
MISSIONARY HYMNS.
"JESUS SHALL REIGN WHERE'ER THE SUN."
One of Watts' sublimest hymns, this Hebrew ode to the final King and His
endless dominion expands the majestic prophesy in the seventy-second
Psalm:
Jesus shall reign where'er the sun
Does his successive journeys run,
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore
Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
The hymn itself could almost claim to be known "where'er the sun" etc.,
for Christian missionaries have sung it in every land, if not in every
language.
One of the native kings in the South Sea Islands, who had been converted
through the ministry of English missionaries, substituted a Christian
for a pagan constitution in 1862. There were five thousand of his
subjects gathered at the ceremonial, and they joined as with one voice
in singing this hymn.
_THE TUNE._
"Old Hundred" has often lent the notes of its great plain-song to the
sonorous lines, and "Duke Street," with superior melody and scarcely
inferior grandeur, has given them wings; but the choice of many for
music that articulates the life of the hymn would be the tune of
"Samson," from Handel's Oratorio so named. It appears as No. 469 in the
_Evangelical Hymnal_.
Handel had no peer in the art or instinct of making a note speak a word.
"JOY TO THE WORLD! THE LORD IS COME!"
This hymn, also by Watts, is often sung as a Christmas song; but "The
Saviour Reigns" and "He Rules the World" are bursts of prophetic triumph
always apt and stimulating in missionary meetings.
Here, again, the great Handel lends appropriate aid, for "Antioch," the
popular tone-consort of the hymn, is an adaptation from his "Messiah."
The arrangement has been credited to Lowell Mason, but he seems to have
taken it from an English collection by Clark of Canterbury.
"O'ER THE GLOOMY HILLS OF DARKNESS."
_Dros y brinian tywyl niwliog._
This notable hymn was written, probably about 1750, by the Rev. William
Williams, a Welsh Calvinistic Methodist, born at Cefnycoed, Jan. 7,
1717, near Llandovery. He began the study of medicine, but took deacon's
orders, and was for a time an itinerant preacher, having left the
established Church. Died at Pantycelyn, Jan. 1, 1781.
His hymn, like the two preceding, antedates the great Missionary
Movement by many years.
O'er the gloomy hills of darkness
Look my soul! be still, and gaze!
See the promises advancing
To a glorious Day of grace!
Blessed Jubilee,
Let thy glorious morning dawn!
Let the dark, benighted pagan,
Let the rude barbarian see
That divine and glorious conquest
Once obtained on Calvary.
Let the Gospel
Loud resound from pole to pole.
This song of anticipation has dropped out of the modern hymnals, but the
last stanza lingers in many memories.
Fly abroad, thou mighty Gospel!
Win and conquer, never cease;
May thy lasting wide dominion
Multiply and still increase.
Sway Thy scepter,
Saviour, all the world around!
_THE TUNE._
Oftener than any other the music of "Zion" has been the expression of
William Williams' Missionary Hymn. It was composed by Thomas Hastings,
in Washington, Ct., 1830.
"HASTEN, LORD, THE GLORIOUS TIME."
Hasten, Lord, the glorious time
When beneath Messiah's sway
Every nation, every clime
Shall the Gospel call obey.
Mightiest kings its power shall own,
Heathen tribes His name adore,
Satan and his host o'erthrown
Bound in chains shall hurt no more.
Miss Harriet Auber, the author of this melodious hymn, was a daughter of
James Auber of London, and was born in that city, Oct. 4, 1773. After
leaving London she led a secluded life at Broxbourne and Hoddesdon, in
Hertfordshire, writing devotional poetry and sacred songs and
paraphrases.
Her _Spirit of the Psalms_, published in 1829, was a collection of
lyrics founded on the Biblical Psalms. "Hasten Lord," etc., is from Ps.
72, known for centuries to Christendom as one of the Messianic Psalms.
Her best-known hymns have the same inspiration, as--
Wide, ye heavenly gates, unfold.
Sweet is the work, O Lord.
With joy we hail the sacred day.
Miss Auber died in Hoddesdon, Jan. 20, 1862. She lived to witness and
sympathise with the pioneer missionary enterprise of the 19th century,
and, although she could not stand among the leaders of the battle-line
in extending the conquest of the world for Christ, she was happy in
having written a campaign hymn which they loved to sing. (It is curious
that so pains-taking a work as Julian's _Dictionary of Hymns and
Hymn-writers_ credits "With joy we hail the sacred day" to both Miss
Auber and Henry Francis Lyte. Coincidences are known where different
hymns by different authors begin with the same line; and in this case
one writer was dead before the other's works were published. Possibly
the collector may have seen a forgotten hymn of Lyte's, with that first
line.)
The tune that best interprets this hymn in spirit and in living _music_
is Lowell Mason's "Eltham." Its harmony is like a chime of bells.
"LET PARTY NAMES NO MORE."
Let party names no more
The Christian world o'erspread;
Gentile and Jew, and bond and free,
Are one in Christ the Head.
This hymn of Rev. Benjamin Beddome sounds like a prelude to the grand
rally of the Christian Churches a generation later for united advance
into foreign fields. It was an after-sermon hymn--like so many of Watts
and Doddridge--and spoke a good man's longing to see all sects stand
shoulder to shoulder in a common crusade.
Tune--Boylston.
"WATCHMAN, TELL US OF THE NIGHT."
The tune written to this pealing hymn of Sir John Bowring by Lowell
Mason has never been superseded. In animation and vocal splendor it
catches the author's own clear call, echoing the shout of Zion's
sentinels from city to city, and happily reproducing in movement and
phrase the great song-dialogue. Words and music together, the piece
ranks with the foremost missionary lyrics. Like the greater Mason-Heber
world-song, it has acquired no arbitrary name, appearing in Mason's own
tune-books under its first hymn-line and likewise in many others. A few
hymnals have named it "Bowring," (and why not?) and some later ones
simply "Watchman."
1.
Watchman, tell us of the night.
What its signs of promise are!
(Antistrophe)
Traveler, on yon mountain height.
See that glory-beaming star!
2
Watchman, does its beauteous ray
Aught of hope or joy foretell?
(Antistrophe)
Trav'ler, yes; it brings the day,
Promised day of Israel.
3
Watchman, tell us of the night;
Higher yet that star ascends.
(Antistrophe)
Trav'ler, blessedness and light
Peace and truth its course portends.
4
Watchman, will its beams alone
Gild the spot that gave them birth?
(Antistrophe)
Trav'ler, ages are its own.
See! it bursts o'er all the earth.
"YE CHRISTIAN HERALDS, GO PROCLAIM."
In some versions "Ye Christian _heroes_," etc.
Professor David R. Breed attributes this stirring hymn to Mrs. Vokes (or
Voke) an English or Welsh lady, who is supposed to have written it
somewhere near 1780, and supports the claim by its date of publication
in _Missionary and Devotional Hymns_ at Portsea, Wales, in 1797. In this
Dr. Breed follows (he says) "the accepted tradition." On the other hand
the _Coronation Hymnal_ (1894) refers the authorship to a Baptist
minister, the Rev. Bourne Hall Draper, of Southampton (Eng.), born 1775,
and this choice has the approval of Dr. Charles Robinson. The question
occurs whether, when the hymn was published in good faith as Mrs.
Vokes', it was really the work of a then unknown youth of twenty-two.
The probability is that the hymn owns a mother instead of a father--and
a grand hymn it is; one of the most stimulating in Missionary
song-literature.
The stanza--
God shield you with a wall of fire!
With flaming zeal your breasts inspire;
Bid raging winds their fury cease,
And hush the tumult into peace,
--has been tampered with by editors, altering the last line to "Calm the
troubled seas," etc., (for the sake of the longer vowel;) but the
substitution, "_He'll_ shield you," etc., in the first line, turns a
prayer into a mere statement.
The hymn was--and should remain--a God-speed to men like William
Carey, who had already begun to think and preach his immortal motto,
"Attempt great things for God; expect great things of God."
_THE TUNE_
Is the "Missionary Chant," and no other. Its composer, Heinrich
Christopher Zeuner, was born in Eisleben, Saxony, Sept. 20, 1795. He
came to the United States in 1827, and was for many years organist at
Park Street Church, Boston, and for the Handel and Haydn Society. In
1854 he removed to Philadelphia where he served three years as organist
to St. Andrews Church, and Arch Street Presbyterian. He became insane in
1857, and in November of that year died by his own hand.
He published an oratorio "The Feast of Tabernacles," and two popular
books, the _American Harp_, 1832, and _The Ancient Lyre_, 1833. His
compositions are remarkably spirited and vigorous, and his work as a
tune-maker was much in demand during his life, and is sure to continue,
in its best examples, as long as good sacred music is appreciated.
To another beautiful missionary hymn of Mrs. Vokes, of quieter tone, but
songful and sweet, Dr. Mason wrote the tune of "Migdol." It is its
musical twin.
Soon may the last glad song arise
Through all the millions of the skies.
That song of triumph which records
That "all the earth is now the Lord's."
"ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP APPEARING."
This admired and always popular church hymn was written near the
beginning of the last century by the Rev. Thomas Kelly, born in Dublin,
1760. He was the son of the Hon. Chief Baron Thomas Kelly of that city,
a judge of the Irish Court of Common Pleas. His father designed him for
the legal profession, but after his graduation at Trinity College he
took holy orders in the Episcopal Church, and labored as a clergyman
among the scenes of his youth for more than sixty years, becoming a
Nonconformist in his later ministry. He was a sweet-souled man, who made
troops of friends, and was honored as much for his piety as for his
poetry, music, and oriental learning.
"I expect never to die," he said, when Lord Plunkett once told him he
would reach a great age. He finished his earthly work on the 14th of
May, 1855, when he was eighty-five years old. But he still lives. His
zeal for the coming of the Kingdom of Christ prompted his best hymn.
On the mountain-top appearing,
Lo! the sacred herald stands,
Joyful news to Zion bearing,
Zion long in hostile lands;
Mourning captive,
God himself will loose thy bands.
Has the night been long and mournful?
Have thy friends unfaithful proved?
Have thy foes been proud and scornful,
By thy sighs and tears unmoved?
Cease thy mourning;
Zion still is well beloved.
_THE TUNE._
To presume that Kelly made both words and music together is possible,
for he was himself a composer, but no such original tune seems to
survive. In modern use Dr. Hastings' "Zion" is most frequently attached
to the hymn, and was probably written for it.
"YE CHRISTIAN HEROES, WAKE TO GLORY."
This rather crude parody on the "Marseillaise Hymn" (see Chap. 9) is
printed in the _American Vocalist_, among numerous samples of early New
England psalmody of untraced authorship. It might have been sung at
primitive missionary meetings, to spur the zeal and faith of a Francis
Mason or a Harriet Newell. It expresses, at least, the new-kindled
evangelical spirit of the long-ago consecrations in American church life
that first sent the Christian ambassadors to foreign lands, and followed
them with benedictions.
[Illustration: The Right Rev. Reginald Heber, D.D.]
Ye Christian heroes, wake to glory:
Hark, hark! what millions bid you rise!
See heathen nations bow before you,
Behold their tears, and hear their cries.
Shall pagan priest, their errors breeding,
With darkling hosts, and flags unfurled,
Spread their delusions o'er the world,
Though Jesus on the Cross hung bleeding?
To arms! To arms!
Christ's banner fling abroad!
March on! March on! all hearts resolved
To bring the world to God.
O, Truth of God! can man resign thee,
Once having felt thy glorious flame?
Can rolling oceans e'er prevent thee,
Or gold the Christian's spirit tame?
Too long we slight the world's undoing;
The word of God, salvation's plan,
Is yet almost unknown to man,
While millions throng the road to ruin.
To arms! to arms!
The Spirit's sword unsheath:
March on! March on! all hearts resolved,
To victory or death.
"HAIL TO THE LORD'S ANOINTED."
James Montgomery (says Dr. Breed) is "distinguished as the only layman
besides Cowper among hymn-writers of the front rank in the English
language." How many millions have recited and sung his fine and
exhaustively descriptive poem,--
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
--selections from almost any part of which are perfect definitions, and
have been standard hymns on prayer for three generations. English
Hymnology would as unwillingly part with his missionary hymns,--
The king of glory we proclaim.
Hark, the song of jubilee!
--and, noblest of all, the lyric of prophecy and praise which heads
this paragraph.
Hail to the Lord's anointed,
King David's greater Son!
Hail, in the time appointed
His reign on earth begun.
* * * * *
Arabia's desert ranger
To Him shall bow the knee,
The Ethiopian stranger
His glory come to see.
* * * * *
Kings shall fall down before Him
And gold and incense bring;
All nations shall adore Him,
His praise all people sing.
The hymn is really the seventy-second Psalm in metre, and as a version
it suffers nothing by comparison with that of Watts. Montgomery wrote
it as a Christmas ode. It was sung Dec. 25, 1821, at a Moravian
Convocation, but in 1822 he recited it at a great missionary meeting in
Liverpool, and Dr. Adam Clarke was so charmed with it that he inserted
it in his famous _Commentary_. In no long time afterwards it found its
way into general use.
The spirit of his missionary parents was Montgomery's Christian legacy,
and in exalted poetical moments it stirred him as the divine afflatus
kindled the old prophets.
_THE TUNE._
The music editors in some hymnals have borrowed the favorite choral
variously named "Webb" in honor of its author, and "The Morning Light is
Breaking" from the first line of its hymn. Later hymnals have chosen
Sebastian Wesley's "Aurelia" to fit the hymn, with a movement similar to
that of "Webb"; also a German B flat melody "Ellacombe," undated, with
livelier step and a ringing chime of parts. No one of these is
inappropriate.
Samuel Sebastian Wesley, grandson of Charles Wesley the great hymnist,
was born in London, 1810. Like his father, Samuel, he became a
distinguished musician, and was organist at Exeter, Winchester and
Gloucester Cathedrals. Oxford gave him the degree of Doctor of Music.
He composed instrumental melodies besides many anthems, services, and
other sacred pieces for choir and congregational singing. Died in
Gloucester, April 19, 1876.
"FROM GREENLAND'S ICY MOUNTAINS."
The familiar story of this hymn scarcely needs repeating; how one
Saturday afternoon in the year 1819, young Reginald Heber, Rector of
Hodnet, sitting with his father-in-law, Dean Shipley, and a few friends
in the Wrexham Vicarage, was suddenly asked by the Dean to "write
something to sing at the missionary meeting tomorrow," and retired to
another part of the room while the rest went on talking; how, very soon
after, he returned with three stanzas, which were hailed with delighted
approval; how he then insisted upon adding another octrain to the hymn
and came back with--
Waft, waft, ye winds, His story,
And you, ye waters, roll;
--and how the great lyric was sung in Wrexham Church on Sunday morning
for the first time in its life. The story is old but always fresh.
Nothing could better have emphasized the good Dean's sermon that day in
aid of "The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts,"
than that unexpected and glorious lyric of his poet son-in-law.
By common consent Heber's "Missionary Hymn" is the silver trumpet among
all the rallying bugles of the church.
_THE TUNE._
The union of words and music in this instance is an example of spiritual
affinity. "What God hath joined together let no man put asunder." The
story of the tune is a record of providential birth quite as interesting
as that of the hymn. In 1823, a lady in Savannah, Ga., having received
and admired a copy of Heber's lyric from England, desired to sing it or
hear it sung, but knew no music to fit the metre. She finally thought of
a young clerk in a bank close by, Lowell Mason by name, who sometimes
wrote music for recreation, and sent her son to ask him if he would make
a tune that would sing the lines. The boy returned in half an hour with
the composition that doubled Heber's fame and made his own.
In the words of Dr. Charles Robinson, "Like the hymn it voices, it was
done at a stroke, and it will last through the ages."
"THE MORNING LIGHT IS BREAKING."
Not far behind Dr. Heber's _chef-d'oeuvre_ in lyric merit is the still
more famous missionary hymn of Dr. S.F. Smith, author of "My Country,
'Tis of Thee." Another missionary hymn of his which is widely used is--
Yes, my native land, I love thee,
All thy scenes, I love them well.
Friends, connections, happy country,
Can I bid you all farewell?
Can I leave you
Far in heathen lands to dwell?
Drs. Nutter and Breed speak of "The Morning Light is Breaking," and its
charm as a hymn of peace and promise, and intimate that it has "gone
farther and been more frequently sung than any other missionary hymn."
Besides the English, there are versions of it in four Latin nations, the
Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and French, and oriental translations in
Chinese and several East Indian tongues and dialects, as well as one in
Swedish. It author had the rare felicity, while on a visit to his son, a
missionary in Burmah, of hearing it sung by native Christians in their
language, and of being welcomed with an ovation when they knew who he
was.
The morning light is breaking!
The darkness disappears;
The sons of earth are waking
To penitential tears;
Each breeze that sweeps the ocean
Brings tidings from afar,
Of nations in commotion,
Prepared for Zion's war.
Rich dews of grace come o'er us
In many a gentle shower,
And brighter scenes before us
Are opening every hour.
Each cry to heaven going
Abundant answer brings,
And heavenly gales are blowing
With peace upon their wings.
* * * * *
Blest river of Salvation,
Pursue thy onward way;
Flow thou to every nation,
Nor in thy richness stay.
Stay not till all the lowly
Triumphant reach their home;
Stay not till all the holy
Proclaim, "The Lord is come!"
Samuel Francis Smith, D.D., was born in Boston in 1808, and educated in
Harvard University (1825-1829). He prepared for the ministry, and was
pastor of Baptist churches at Waterville, Me., and Newton, Mass., before
entering the service of the American Baptist Missionary union as editor
of its _Missionary Magazine_.
He was a scholarly and graceful writer, both in verse and prose, and
besides his editorial work, he was frequently an invited participant or
guest of honor on public occasions, owing to his fame as author of the
national hymn. His pure and gentle character made him everywhere beloved
and reverenced, and to know him intimately in his happy old age was a
benediction. He died suddenly and painlessly in his seat on a railway
train, November 16, 1895 in his eighty-eighth year.
Dr. Smith wrote twenty-six hymns now more or less in use in church
worship, and eight for Sabbath school collections.
_THE TUNE._
"Millennial Dawn" is the title given it by a Boston compiler, about
1844, but since the music and hymn became "one and indivisable" it has
been named "Webb," and popularly _known_ as "Morning Light" or oftener
still by its first hymn-line, "The morning light is breaking."
George James Webb was born near Salisbury, Wiltshire, Eng., June 24,
1803. He studied music in Salisbury and for several years played the
organ at Falmouth Church. When still a young man (1830), he came to the
United States, and settled in Boston where he was long the leading
organist and music teacher of the city. He was associate director of the
Boston Academy of Music with Lowell Mason, and joint author and editor
with him of several church-music collections. Died in Orange, N.J., Nov.
7, 1887.
Dr. Webb's own account of the tune "Millennial Dawn" states that he
wrote it at sea while on his way to America--and to secular words and
that he had no idea who first adapted it to the hymn, nor when.
"IF I WERE A VOICE, A PERSUASIVE VOICE."
This animating lyric was written by Charles Mackay. Sung by a good
vocalist, the fine solo air composed (with its organ chords) by I.B.
Woodbury, is still a feature in some missionary meetings, especially the
fourth stanza--
If I were a voice, an immortal voice,
I would fly the earth around:
And wherever man to his idols bowed,
I'd publish in notes both long and loud
The Gospel's joyful sound.
I would fly, I would fly, on the wings of day,
Proclaiming peace on my world-wide way,
Bidding the saddened earth rejoice--
If I were a voice, an immortal voice,
I would fly, I would fly,
I would fly on the wings of day.
Charles Mackay, the poet, was born in Perth, Scotland, 1814, and
educated in London and Brussels; was engaged in editorial work on the
_London Morning Chronicle_ and _Glasgow Argus_, and during the Corn Law
agitation wrote popular songs, notably "The Voice of the Crowd" and
"There's a Good Time Coming," which (like the far inferior poetry of
Ebenezer Elliot) won the lasting love of the masses for a superior man
who could be "The People's Singer and Friend." He came to the United
States in 1857 as a lecturer, and again in 1862, remaining three years
as war correspondent of the _London Times_. Glasgow University made him
LL.D. in 1847. His numerous songs and poems were collected in a London
edition. Died Dec. 24, 1889.
Isaac Baker Woodbury was born in Beverly, Mass., 1819, and rose from the
station of a blacksmith's apprentice to be a tone-teacher in the church.
He educated himself in Europe, returned and sang his life songs, and
died in 1858 at the age of thirty-nine.
A tune preferred by many as the finer music is the one written to the
words by Mr. Sankey, _Sacred Songs_, No. 2.
"SPEED AWAY! SPEED AWAY!"
This inspiriting song of farewell to departing missionaries was written
in 1890 to Woodbury's appropriate popular melody by Fanny J. Crosby, at
the request of Ira D. Sankey. The key-word and refrain are adapted from
the original song by Woodbury (1848), but in substance and language the
three hymn-stanzas are the new and independent work of this later
writer.
Speed away! speed away on your mission of light,
To the lands that are lying in darkness and night;
'Tis the Master's command; go ye forth in His name,
The wonderful gospel of Jesus proclaim;
Take your lives in your hand, to the work while 'tis day,
Speed away! speed away! speed away!
Speed away, speed away with the life-giving Word,
To the nations that know not the voice of the Lord;
Take the wings of the morning and fly o'er the wave,
In the strength of your Master the lost ones to save;
He is calling once more, not a moment's delay,
Speed away! speed away! speed away!
Speed away, speed away with the message of rest,
To the souls by the tempter in bondage oppressed;
For the Saviour has purchased their ransom from sin,
And the banquet is ready. O gather them in;
To the rescue make haste, there's no time for delay,
Speed away! speed away! speed away!
"ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS!"
Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould, the author of this rousing hymn of Christian
warfare, a rector of the Established Church of England and a writer of
note, was born at Exeter, Eng., Jan. 28, 1834. Educated at Clare
College, Cambridge, he entered the service of the church, and was
appointed Rector of East Mersea, Essex, in 1871. He was the author of
several hymns, original and translated, and introduced into England from
Flanders, numbers of carols with charming old Christmas music. The
"Christian Soldiers" hymn is one of his (original) processionals, and
the most inspiring.
Onward, Christian soldiers,
Marching as to war,
With the cross of Jesus
Going on before.
Christ the Royal Master
Leads against the foe;
Forward into battle,
See, His banners go!
Onward, Christian soldiers, etc.
* * * * *
Like a mighty army
Moves the Church of God;
Brothers, we are treading
Where the saints have trod;
We are not divided,
All one body we,
One in hope, in doctrine,
One in charity.
_THE TUNE._
Sir Arthur Seymour Sullivan, Doctor of Music, who wrote the melody for
this hymn, was born in London, May 13, 1842. He gained the Mendelssohn
Scholarship at the Royal Academy of Music, and also at the Conservatory
of Leipsic. He was a fertile genius, and his compositions included
operettas, symphonies, overtures, anthems, hymn-tunes, an oratorio ("The
Prodigal Son"), and almost every variety of tone production, vocal and
instrumental. Queen Victoria knighted him in 1883.
The grand rhythm of "Onward, Christian Soldiers"--hymn and tune--is
irresistible whether in band march or congregational worship. Sir Arthur
died in London, November 22, 1900.
"O CHURCH ARISE AND SING"
Designed originally for children's voices, the hymn of five stanzas
beginning with this line was written by Hezekiah Butterworth, author of
the _Story of the Hymns_ (1875), _Story of the Tunes_ (1890), and many
popular books of historic interest for the young, the most widely read
of which is _Zigzag Journeys in Many Lands_. He also composed and
published many poems and hymns. He was born in Warren, R.I., Dec. 22,
1839, and for twenty-five years was connected with the _Youth's
Companion_ as regular contributor and member of its editorial staff. He
died in Warren, R.I., Sept. 5, 1905.
The hymn "O Church, arise" was sung in Mason's tune of "Dort" until
Prof. Case wrote a melody for it, when it took the name of the
"Convention Hymn."
Professor Charles Clinton Case, music composer and teacher, was born in
Linesville, Pa., June, 1843. Was a pupil of George F. Root and pursued
musical study in Chicago, Ill., Ashland, O., and South Bend, Ind. He was
associated with Root, McGranahan, and others in making secular and
church music books, and later with D.L. Moody in evangelical work.
As author and compiler he has published numerous works, among them
_Church Anthems_, the _Harvest Song_ and _Case's Chorus Collection_.
O Church! arise and sing
The triumphs of your King,
Whose reign is love;
Sing your enlarged desires,
That conquering faith inspires,
Renew your signal fires,
And forward move!
* * * * *
Beneath the glowing arch
The ransomed armies march,
We follow on;
Lead on, O cross of Light,
From conquering height to height,
And add new victories bright
To triumphs won!
"THE BANNER OF IMMANUEL!"
This hymn, set to music and copyrighted in Buffalo as a floating waif of
verse by an unknown author, and used in Sunday-school work, first
appeared in Dr. F.N. Peloubet's _Select Songs_ (Biglow and Main, 1884)
with a tune by Rev. George Phipps.
The hymn was written by Rev. Theron Brown, a Baptist minister, who was
pastor (1859-1870) of churches in South Framingham and Canton, Mass. He
was born in Willimantic, Ct., April 29, 1832.
Retired from pastoral work, owing to vocal disability, he has held
contributory and editorial relations with the _Youth's Companion_ for
more than forty years, for the last twenty years a member of the office
staff.
Between 1880 and 1890 he contributed hymns more or less regularly to the
quartet and antiphonal chorus service at the Ruggles St. Church, Boston,
the "Banner of Immanuel" being one of the number. _The Blount Family_,
_Nameless Women of the Bible_, _Life Songs_ (a volume of poems), and
several books for boys, are among his published works.
The banner of Immanuel! beneath its glorious folds
For life or death to serve and fight we pledge our loyal souls.
No other flag such honor boasts, or bears so proud a name,
And far its red-cross signal flies as flies the lightning's flame.
* * * * *
Salvation by the blood of Christ! the shouts of triumph ring;
No other watchword leads the host that serves so grand a King.
Then rally, soldiers of the Cross! Keep every fold unfurled,
And by Redemption's holy sign we'll conquer all the world.
The Rev. George Phipps, composer of the tune, "Immanuel's Banner," was
born in Franklin, Mass., Dec. 11, 1838, was graduated at Amherst
College, 1862, and at Andover Theological Seminary, 1865. Settled as
pastor of the Congregational Church in Wellesley, Mass., ten years, and
at Newton Highlands fifteen years.
He has written many Sunday-school melodies, notably the music to "My
Saviour Keeps Me Company."
CHAPTER V.
HYMNS OF SUFFERING AND TRUST.
One inspiring chapter in the compensations of life is the record of
immortal verses that were sorrow-born. It tells us in the most affecting
way how affliction refines the spirit and "the agonizing throes of
thought bring forth glory." Often a broken life has produced a single
hymn. It took the long living under trial to shape the supreme
experience.
--The anguish of the singer
Made the sweetness of the song.
Indeed, if there had been no sorrow there would have been no song.
[Illustration: George James Webb]
"MY LORD, HOW FULL OF SWEET CONTENT."
Jeanne M.B. de la Mothe--known always as Madame Guyon--the lady who
wrote these words in exile, probably sang more "songs in the night" than
any hymn-writer outside of the Dark Ages. She was born at Montargis,
France, in 1648, and died in her seventieth year, 1771, in the ancient
city of Blois, on the Loire.
A convent-educated girl of high family, a wife at the age of fifteen,
and a widow at twenty-eight, her early piety, ridiculed in the dazzling
but corrupt society of Louis XIV's time, blossomed through a long life
in religious ministries and flowers of sacred poetry.
She became a mystic, and her book _Spiritual Torrents_ indicates the
impetuous ardors of her soul. It was the way Divine Love came to her.
She was the incarnation of the spiritualized Book of Canticles. An
induction to these intense subjective visions and raptures had been the
remark of a pious old Franciscan father, "Seek God in your heart, and
you will find Him."
She began to teach as well as enjoy the new light so different from the
glitter of the traditional worship. But her "aggressive holiness" was
obnoxious to the established Church. "Quietism" was the brand set upon
her written works and the offense that was punished in her person.
Bossuet, the king of preachers, was her great adversary. The saintly
Fenelon was her friend, but he could not shield her. She was shut up
like a lunatic in prison after prison, till, after four years of dungeon
life in the Bastile, expecting every hour to be executed for heresy, she
was banished to a distant province to end her days.
Question as we may the usefulness of her pietistic books, the visions of
her excessively exalted moods, and the passionate, almost erotic
phraseology of her _Contemplations_, Madame Guyon has held the world's
admiration for her martyr spirit, and even her love-flights of devotion
in poetry and prose do not conceal the angel that walked in the flame.
Today, when religious persecution is unknown, we can but dimly
understand the perfect triumph of her superior soul under suffering and
the transports of her utter absorption in God that could make the stones
of her dungeon "look like jewels." When we emulate a faith like
hers--with all the weight of absolute certainty in it--we can sing her
hymn:
My Lord, how full of sweet content
I pass my years of banishment.
Where'er I dwell, I dwell with Thee,
In heaven or earth, or on the sea.
To me remains nor place nor time:
My country is in every clime;
I can be calm and free from care
On any shore, since God is there.
And could a dearer _vade mecum_ enrich a Christian's outfit than these
lines treasured in memory?
While place we seek or place we shun,
The soul finds happiness in none;
But, with a God to guide our way,
'Tis equal joy to go or stay.
Cowper, and also Dr. Thomas Upham, translated (from the French) the
religious poems of Madame Guyon. This hymn is Cowper's translation.
_THE TUNE._
A gentle and sympathetic melody entitled "Alsace" well represents the
temper of the words--and in name links the nationalities of writer and
composer. It is a choral arranged from a sonata of the great Ludwig von
Beethoven, born in Bonn, Germany, 1770, and died in Vienna, Mar. 1827.
Like the author of the hymn he felt the hand of affliction, becoming
totally deaf soon after his fortieth year. But, in spite of the
privation, he kept on writing sublime and exquisite strains that only
his soul could hear. His fame rests upon his oratorio, "The Mount of
Olives," the opera of "Fidelio" and his nine wonderful "Symphonies."
"NO CHANGE IN TIME SHALL EVER SHOCK."
Altered to common metre from the awkward long metre of Tate and Brady,
the three or four stanzas found in earlier hymnals are part of their
version (probably Tate's) of the 31st Psalm--and it is worth calling to
mind here that there is no hymn treasury so rich in tuneful faith and
reliance upon God in trouble as the Book of Psalms. This feeling of the
Hebrew poet was never better expressed (we might say, translated) in
English than by the writer of this single verse--
No change of time shall ever shock
My trust, O Lord, in Thee,
For Thou hast always been my Rock,
A sure defense to me.
_THE TUNE._
The sweet, tranquil choral long ago wedded to this hymn is lost from the
church collections, and its very name forgotten. In fact the hymn itself
is now seldom seen. If it ever comes back, old "Dundee" (Guillaume Franc
1500-1570) will sing for it, or some new composer may rise up to put the
spirit of the psalm into inspired notes.
"WHY DO WE MOURN DEPARTED FRIENDS?"
This hymn of holy comfort, by Dr. Watts, was long associated with a
remarkable tune in C minor, "a queer medley of melody" as Lowell Mason
called it, still familiar to many old people as "China." It was composed
by Timothy Swan when he was about twenty-six years of age (1784) and
published in 1801 in the _New England Harmony_. It may have sounded
consolatory to mature mourners, singers and hearers in the days when
religious emotion habitually took a sad key, but its wild and thrilling
chords made children weep. The tune is long out of use--though, strange
to say, one of the most recent hymnals prints the hymn with a _new
minor_ tune.
Why do we mourn departed friends,
Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to His arms.
Are we not tending upward too
As fast as time can move?
Nor should we wish the hours more slow
To keep us from our Love.
The graves of all His saints He blessed
And softened every bed:
Where should the dying members rest
But with their dying Head?
Timothy Swan was born in Worcester, Mass., July 23, 1758, and died in
Suffield, Ct., July 23, 1842. He was a self-taught musician, his only
"course of study" lasting three weeks,--in a country singing school at
Groton. When sixteen years old he went to Northfield, Mass., and learned
the hatter's trade, and while at work began to practice making
psalm-tunes. "Montague," in two parts, was his first achievement. From
that time for thirty years, mostly spent in Suffield, Ct., he wrote and
taught music while supporting himself by his trade. Many of his tunes
were published by himself, and had a wide currency a century ago.
Swan was a genius in his way, and it was a true comment on his work that
"his tunes were remarkable for their originality as well as
singularity--unlike any other melodies." "China," his masterpiece, will
be long kept track of as a curio, and preserved in replicates of old
psalmody to illustrate self-culture in the art of song. But the major
mode will replace the minor when tender voices on burial days sing--
Why do we mourn departed friends?
Another hymn of Watts,--
God is the refuge of His saints
When storms of sharp distress invade,
--sung to Lowell Mason's liquid tune of "Ward," and the priceless
stanza,--
Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
doubly prove the claim of the Southampton bard to a foremost place with
the song-preachers of Christian trust.
The psalm (Amsterdam version), "God is the refuge," etc., is said to
have been sung by John Howland in the shallop of the Mayflower when an
attempt was made to effect a landing in spite of tempestuous weather. A
tradition of this had doubtless reached Mrs. Hemans when she wrote--
Amid the storm they sang, etc.
"FATHER, WHATE'ER OF EARTHLY BLISS."
This hymn had originally ten stanzas, of which the three usually sung
are the three last. The above line is the first of the eighth stanza,
altered from--
And O, whate'er of earthly bliss.
Probably for more than a century the familiar surname "Steele" attached
to this and many other hymns in the hymn-books conveyed to the general
public no hint of a mind and hand more feminine than Cowper's or
Montgomery's. Even intelligent people, who had chanced upon sundry
copies of _The Spectator_, somehow fell into the habit of putting
"Steele" and "Addison" in the same category of hymn names, and Sir
Richard Steele got a credit he never sought. But since stories of the
hymns began to be published--and made the subject of evening talks in
church conference rooms--many have learned what "Steele" in the
hymn-book means. It introduces us now to a very retiring English lady,
Miss Anna Steele, a Baptist minister's daughter. She was born in 1706,
at Broughton, Hampshire, in her father's parsonage, and in her father's
parsonage she spent her life, dying there Nov. 1778.
She was many years a severe sufferer from bodily illness, and a lasting
grief of mind and heart was the loss of her intended husband, who was
drowned the day before their appointed wedding. It is said that this
hymn was written under the recent sorrow of that loss.
In 1760 and 1780 volumes of her works in verse and prose were published
with her name, "Theodosia," and reprinted in 1863 as "_Hymns, Psalms,
and Poems_, by Anna Steele." The hymn "Father, whate'er," etc., is
estimated as her best, though some rank it only next to her--
Dear Refuge of my weary soul.
Other more or less well-known hymns of this devout and loving writer
are,--
Lord, how mysterious are Thy ways,
O Thou whose tender mercy hears,
Thou lovely Source of true delight,
Alas, what hourly dangers rise,
So fades the lovely blooming flower.
--to a stanza of which latter the world owes the tune of "Federal St."
_THE TUNE._
The true musical mate of the sweet hymn-prayer came to it probably about
the time of its hundredth birthday; but it came to stay. Lowell Mason's
"Naomi" blends with it like a symphony of nature.
Father, whate'er of earthly bliss
Thy sovereign will denies,
Accepted at Thy throne of grace
Let this petition rise.
Give me a calm and thankful heart
From every murmer free.
The blessings of Thy grace impart,
And make me live to Thee.
"GUIDE ME, O THOU GREAT JEHOVAH."
This great hymn has a double claim on the name of Williams. We do not
have it exactly in its original form as written by Rev. William
Williams, "The Watts of Wales," familiarly known as "Williams of
Pantycelyn." His fellow countryman and contemporary, Rev. Peter
Williams, or "Williams of Carmarthen," who translated it from Welsh into
English (1771) made alterations and substitutions in the hymn with the
result that only the first stanza belongs indisputably to Williams of
Pantycelyn, the others being Peter's own or the joint production of the
two. As the former, however, is said to have approved and revised the
English translation, we may suppose the hymn retained the name of its
original author by mutual consent.
Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land.
I am weak, but Thou art mighty,
Hold me by Thy powerful hand;
Bread of heaven,
Feed me till I want no more.
Open Thou the crystal Fountain
Whence the healing streams do flow,
Let the fiery cloudy pillar
Lead me all my journey through.
Strong Deliverer,
Be Thou still my Strength and Shield!
When I tread the verge of Jordan
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Death of death, and hell's destruction,
Land me safe on Canaan's side.
Songs of praises
I will ever give to Thee.
Musing on my habitation,
Musing on my heavenly home,
Fills my heart with holy longing;
Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come.
Vanity is all I see,
Lord, I long to be with Thee.
The second and third stanzas have not escaped the touch of critical
editors. The line,--
Whence the healing streams do flow
--becomes,--
Whence the healing waters flow,
--with which alteration there is no fault to find except that it is
needless, and obliterates the ancient mark. But the third stanza,
besides losing its second line for--
Bid the swelling stream divide,
--is weakened by a more needless substitution. Its original third line--
Death of death, and hell's destruction,
--is exchanged for the commonplace--
Bear me through the swelling current.
That is modern taste; but when modern taste meddles with a stalwart old
hymn it is sometimes more nice than wise.
It is probable that the famous hymn was sung in America before it
obtained a European reputation. Its history is as follows: Lady
Huntingdon having read one of Williams' books with much spiritual
satisfaction, persuaded him to prepare a collection of hymns, to be
called the _Gloria in Excelsis_, for special use in Mr. Whitefield's
Orphans' House in America. In this collection appeared the original
stanzas of "Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah." In 1774, two years after
its publication in the _Gloria in Excelsis_, it was republished in
England in Mr. Whitefield's collections of hymns.
The Rev. Peter Williams was born in the parish of Llansadurnen,
Carmarthenshire, Wales, Jan. 7, 1722, and was educated in Carmarthen
College. He was ordained in the Established Church and appointed to a
curacy, but in 1748 joined the Calvinistic Methodists. He was an
Independent of the Independents however, and preached where ever he
chose. Finally he built a chapel for himself on his paternal estate,
where he ministered during the rest of his life. Died Aug. 8, 1796.
_THE TUNE._
If "Sardius," the splendid old choral (triple time) everywhere
identified with the hymn, be not its original music, its age at least
entitles it to its high partnership. _The Sacred Lyre_ (1858) ascribes
it to Ludovic Nicholson, of Paisley, Scotland, violinist and amateur
composer, born 1770; died 1852; but this is not beyond dispute. Of
several names one more confidently referred to as its author is F.H.
Barthelemon (1741-1808).
"PEACE, TROUBLED SOUL"
Is the brave faith-song of a Christian under deep but blameless
humiliation--Sir Walter Shirley[16].
[Footnote 16: See page 127]
_THE TUNE._
Apparently the favorite in several (not recent) hymnals for the subdued
but confident spirit of this hymn of Sir Walter Shirley is Mazzinghi's
"Palestine," appearing with various tone-signatures in different books.
The treble and alto lead in a sweet duet with slur-flights, like an
obligato to the bass and tenor. The melody needs rich and cultured
voices, and is unsuited for congregational singing. So, perhaps, is the
hymn itself.
Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive moan
Hath taught these rocks the notes of woe;
Cease thy complaint--suppress thy groan,
And let thy tears forget to flow;
Behold the precious balm is found,
To lull thy pain, to heal thy wound.
Come, freely come, by sin oppressed,
Unburden here thy weighty load;
Here find thy refuge and thy rest,
And trust the mercy of thy God.
Thy God's thy Saviour--glorious word!
For ever love and praise the Lord.
As now sung the word "scenes" is substituted for "rocks" in the second
line, eliminating the poetry. Rocks give an _echo_; and the vivid
thought in the author's mind is flattened to an unmeaning generality.
Count Joseph Mazzinghi, son of Tommasso Mazzinghi, a Corsican musician,
was born in London, 1765. He was a boy of precocious talent. When only
ten years of age he was appointed organist of the Portuguese Chapel, and
when nineteen years old was made musical director and composer at the
King's Theatre. For many years he held the honor of Music Master to the
Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, and his compositions were
almost numberless. Some of his songs and glees that caught the popular
fancy are still remembered in England, as "The Turnpike Gate," "The
Exile," and the rustic duet, "When a Little Farm We Keep."
Of sacred music he composed only one mass and six hymn-tunes, of which
latter "Palestine" is one. Mazzinghi died in 1844, in his eightieth
year.
"BEGONE UNBELIEF, MY SAVIOUR IS NEAR."
The Rev. John Newton, author of this hymn, was born in London, July 24,
1725. The son of a sea-captain, he became a sailor, and for several
years led a reckless life. Converted, he took holy orders and was
settled as curate of Olney, Buckinghamshire, and afterwards Rector of
St. Mary of Woolnoth, London, where he died, Dec. 21, 1807. It was
while living at Olney that he and Cowper wrote and published the _Olney
Hymns_. His defiance to doubt in these lines is the blunt utterance of a
sailor rather than the song of a poet:
Begone, unbelief, my Saviour is near,
And for my relief will surely appear.
By prayer let me wrestle and He will perform;
With Christ in the vessel I smile at the storm.
_THE TUNE_
Old "Hanover," by William Croft (1677-1727), carries Newton's hymn
successfully, but Joseph Haydn's choral of "Lyons" is more familiar--and
better music.
"Hanover" often accompanies Charles Wesley's lyric,--
Ye servants of God, your Master proclaim.
"HOW FIRM A FOUNDATION."
The question of the author of this hymn is treated at length in Dr.
Louis F. Benson's _Studies of Familiar Hymns_. The utmost that need to
be said here is that two of the most thorough and indefatigable
hymn-chasers, Dr. John Julian and Rev. H.L. Hastings, working
independently of each other, found evidence fixing the authorship with
strong probability upon Robert Keene, a precentor in Dr. John Rippon's
church. Dr. Rippon was pastor of a Baptist Church in London from 1773
to 1836, and in 1787 he published a song-manual called _A Selection of
Hymns from the Best Authors_, etc., in which "How Firm a Foundation"
appears as a new piece, with the signature "K----."
The popularity of the hymn in America has been remarkable, and promises
to continue. Indeed, there are few more reviving or more spiritually
helpful. It is too familiar to need quotation. But one cannot suppress
the last stanza, with its powerful and affecting emphasis on the Divine
promise--
The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose
I will not, I will not, desert to his foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I'll never, no never, no never forsake.
_THE TUNE._
The grand harmony of "Portuguese Hymn" has always been identified with
this song of trust.
One opinion of the date of the music writes it "about 1780." Since the
habit of crediting it to John Reading (1677-1764) has been discontinued,
it has been in several hymnals ascribed to Marco Portogallo (Mark, the
Portuguese), a musician born in Lisbon, 1763, who became a composer of
operas in Italy, but was made Chapel-Master to the Portuguese King. In
1807, when Napoleon invaded the Peninsula and dethroned the royal house
of Braganza, Old King John VI. fled to Brazil and took Marco with him,
where he lived till 1815, but returned and died in Italy, in 1830. Such
is the story, and it is all true, only the man's name was Simao,
instead of Marco. _Grove's Dictionary_ appends to Simao's biography the
single sentence, "His brother wrote for the church." That the Brazilian
episode may have been connected with this brother's history by a
confusion of names, is imaginable, but it is not known that the
brother's name was Marco.
On the whole, this account of the authorship of the "Portuguese
Hymn"--originally written for the old Christmas church song "Adeste
Fideles"--is late and uncertain. Heard (perhaps for the first time) in
the Portuguese Chapel, London, it was given the name which still clings
to it. If proofs of its Portuguese origin exist, they may yet be found.
"How Firm a Foundation" was the favorite of Deborah Jackson, President
Andrew Jackson's beloved wife, and on his death-bed the warrior and
statesman called for it. It was the favorite of Gen. Robert E. Lee, and
was sung at his funeral. The American love and familiar preference for
the remarkable hymn was never more strikingly illustrated than when on
Christmas Eve, 1898, a whole corps of the United States army Northern
and Southern, encamped on the Quemados hills, near Havana, took up the
sacred tune and words--
"Fear not, I am with thee, O be not dismayed."
Lieut. Col. Curtis Guild (since Governor Guild of Massachusetts) related
the story in the Sunday School Times for Dec. 7, 1901, and Dr. Benson
quotes it in his book.
[Illustration: John Wesley]
"WHILE THEE I SEEK, PROTECTING POWER."
Miss Helen Maria Williams, who wrote this gentle hymn of confidence, in
1786, was born in the north of England in 1762. When but a girl she won
reputation by her brilliant literary talents and a mental grasp and
vigor that led her, like Gail Hamilton, "to discuss public affairs,
besides clothing bright fancies and devout thoughts in graceful verse."
Most of her life was spent in London, and in Paris, where she died, Dec.
14, 1827.
While Thee I seek, Protecting Power
Be my vain wishes stilled,
And may this consecrated hour
With better hopes be filled:
* * * * *
When gladness wings my favored hour,
Thy love my thoughts shall fill,
Resigned where storms of sorrow lower
My soul shall meet Thy will.
My lifted eye without a tear
The gathering storm shall see:
My steadfast heart shall know no fear:
My heart will rest on Thee.
_THE TUNES._
Old "Norwich," from _Day's Psalter_, and "Simpson," adapted from Louis
Spohr, are found with the hymn in several later manuals. In the memories
of older worshipers "Brattle-Street," with its melodious choral and duet
arranged from Pleyel by Lowell Mason, is inseparable from Miss
Williams' words; but modern hymnals have dropped it, probably because
too elaborate for average congregational use.
Ignaz Joseph Pleyel was born June 1, 1757, at Ruppersthal, Lower
Austria. He was the _twenty-fourth_ child of a village schoolmaster. His
early taste and talent for music procured him friends who paid for his
education. Haydn became his master, and long afterwards spoke of him as
his best and dearest pupil. Pleyel's work--entirely instrumental--was
much admired by Mozart.
During a few years spent in Italy, he composed the music of his
best-known opera, "Iphigenia in Aulide," and, besides the thirty-four
books of his symphonies and chamber-pieces, the results of his prolific
genius make a list too long to enumerate. Most of his life was spent in
Paris, where he founded the (present) house of Pleyel and Wolfe, piano
makers and sellers. He died in that city, Nov. 14, 1831.
"COME UNTO ME."
Come unto Me, when shadows darkly gather,
When the sad heart is weary and distressed,
Seeking for comfort from your heavenly Father,
Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.
This sweet hymn, by Mrs. Catherine Esling, is well known to many
thousands of mourners, as also is its equally sweet tune of "Henley," by
Lowell Mason. Melody and words melt together like harp and flute.
Large are the mansions in thy Father's dwelling,
Glad are the homes that sorrows never dim,
Sweet are the harps in holy music swelling.
Soft are the tones that raise the heavenly hymn.
Mrs. Catherine Harbison Waterman Esling was born in Philadelphia, Apr.
12, 1812. A writer for many years under her maiden name, Waterman, she
married, in 1840, Capt. George Esling, of the Merchant Marine, and lived
in Rio Janeiro till her widowhood, in 1844.
JOHN WESLEY'S HYMN.
How happy is the pilgrim's lot,
How free from every anxious thought.
These are the opening lines of "John Wesley's Hymn," so called because
his other hymns are mostly translations, and because of all his own it
is the one commonly quoted and sung.
John Wesley, the second son in the famous Epworth family of ministers,
was a man who knew how to endure "hardness as a good soldier of Christ."
He was born June 27, 1703, and studied at Charterhouse, London, and at
Christ Church, Oxford, becoming a Fellow of Lincoln College. After
taking holy orders he went as a missionary to Georgia, U.S., in 1735,
and on his return began his remarkable work in England, preaching a more
spiritual type of religion, and awakening the whole kingdom with his
revival fervor and his brother's kindling songs. The following paragraph
from his itinerant life, gathered probably from a page of his own
journals, gives a glimpse of what the founder of the great Methodist
denomination did and suffered while carrying his Evangelical message
from place to place.
On February 17, 1746, when days were short and weather far from
favorable, he set out on horseback from Bristol to Newcastle, a distance
between three and four hundred miles. The journey occupied ten days.
Brooks were swollen, and in some places the roads were impassable,
obliging the itinerant to go round through the fields. At Aldrige Heath,
in Staffordshire, the rain turned to snow, which the northerly wind
drove against him, and by which he was soon crusted over from head to
foot. At Leeds the mob followed him, and pelted him with whatever came
to hand. He arrived at Newcastle, February 26, "free from every anxious
thought," and "every worldly fear."
How lightly he regarded hardship and molestation appears from his
verses--
Whatever molests or troubles life,
When past, as nothing we esteem,
And pain, like pleasure, is a dream.
And that he actually enjoys the heroic freedom of a rough-rider
missionary life is hinted in his hymn--
Confined to neither court nor cell,
His soul disdains on earth to dwell,
He only sojourns here.
God evidently built John Wesley fire-proof and water-proof with a view
to precisely what he was to undertake and accomplish. His frame was
vigorous, and his spirit unconquerable. Besides all this he had the
divine gift of a religious faith that could move mountains and a
confidence in his mission that became a second nature. No wonder he
could suffer, and _last_. The brave young man at thirty was the brave
old man at nearly ninety. He died in London, March 2, 1791.
Blest with the scorn of finite good,
My soul is lightened of its load
And seeks the things above.
There is my house and portion fair;
My treasure and my heart are there,
And my abiding home.
For me my elder brethren stay,
And angels beckon me away.
And Jesus bids me come.
_THE TUNE._
An air found in the _Revivalist_ (1869), in sextuple time, that has the
real camp-meeting swing, preserves the style of music in which the hymn
was sung by the circuit-preachers and their congregations--ringing out
the autobiographical verses with special unction. The favorite was--
No foot of land do I possess,
No cottage in this wilderness;
A poor wayfaring man,
I lodge awhile in tents below,
Or gladly wander to and fro
Till I my Canaan gain.
More modern voices sing the John Wesley hymn to the tune "Habakkuk," by
Edward Hodges. It has a lively three-four step, and finer melody than
the old.
Edward Hodges was born in Bristol, Eng., July 20, 1796, and died there
Sept. 1876. Organist at Bristol in his youth, he was graduated at
Cambridge and in 1825 received the doctorate of music from that
University. In 1835 he went to Toronto, Canada, and two years later to
New York city, where he was many years Director of Music at Trinity
Church. Returned to Bristol in 1863.
"WHEN GATHERING CLOUDS AROUND I VIEW."
One of the restful strains breathed out of illness and affliction to
relieve one soul and bless millions. It was written by Sir Robert Grant
(1785-1838).
When gathering clouds around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few,
On Him I lean who not in vain
Experienced every human pain.
The lines are no less admirable for their literary beauty than for their
feeling and their faith. Unconsciously, it may be, to the writer, in
this and the following stanza are woven an epitome of the Saviour's
history. He--
Experienced every human pain,
--felt temptation's power,
--wept o'er Lazarus dead,
--and the crowning assurance of Jesus' human sympathy is expressed in
the closing prayer,--
--when I have safely passed
Thro' every conflict but the last,
Still, still unchanging watch beside
My painful bed--for _Thou hast died_.
_THE TUNE._
Of the few suitable six-line long metre part songs, the charming Russian
tone-poem of "St. Petersburg" by Dimitri Bortniansky is borrowed for the
hymn in some collections, and with excellent effect. It accords well
with the mood and tenor of the words, and deserves to stay with it as
long as the hymn holds its place.
Dimitri Bortniansky, called "The Russian Palestrina," was born in 1752
at Gloukoff, a village of the Ukraine. He studied music in Moscow, St.
Petersburg, Vienna, Rome and Naples. Returning to his native land, he
was made Director of Empress Catharine's church choir. He reformed and
systematized Russian church music, and wrote original scores in the
intervals of his teaching labors. His works are chiefly motets and
concertos, which show his genius for rich harmony. Died 1825.
"JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT ONE PLEA."
Charlotte Elliott, of Brighton, Eng., would have been well-known through
her admired and useful hymns,--
My God, my Father, while I stray,
My God, is any hour so sweet,
With tearful eyes I look around,
--and many others. But in "Just as I am" she made herself a voice in the
soul of every hesitating penitent. The currency of the hymn has been too
swift for its authorship and history to keep up with, but it is a
blessed law of influence that good works out-run biographies. This
master-piece of metrical gospel might be called Miss Elliott's
spiritual-birth hymn, for a reply of Dr. Caesar Malan of Geneva was its
prompting cause. The young lady was a stranger to personal religion
when, one day, the good man, while staying at her father's house, in his
gentle way introduced the subject. She resented it, but afterwards,
stricken in spirit by his words, came to him with apologies and an
inquiry that confessed a new concern of mind. "You speak of coming to
Jesus, but how? I'm not fit to come."
"Come just as you are," said Dr. Malan.
The hymn tells the result.
Like all the other hymns bound up in her _Invalid's Hymn-book_, it was
poured from out the heart of one who, as the phrase is, "never knew a
well day"--though she lived to see her eighty-second year.
Illustrative of the way it appeals to the afflicted, a little anecdote
was told by the eloquent John B. Gough of his accidental seat-mate in a
city church service. A man of strange appearance was led by the kind
usher or sexton to the pew he occupied. Mr. Gough eyed him with strong
aversion. The man's face was mottled, his limbs and mouth twitched, and
he mumbled singular sounds. When the congregation sang he attempted to
sing, but made fearful work of it. During the organ interlude he leaned
toward Mr. Gough and asked how the next verse began. It was--
Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind.
"That's it," sobbed the strange man, "I'm blind--God help me!"--and the
tears ran down his face--"and I'm wretched--and paralytic," and then he
tried hard to sing the line with the rest.
"After that," said Mr. Gough, "the poor paralytic's singing was as
sweet to me as a Beethoven symphony."
Charlotte Elliott was born March 18, 1789, and died in Brighton, Sept.
22, 1871. She stands in the front rank of female hymn-writers.
The tune of "Woodworth," by William B. Bradbury, has mostly superseded
Mason's "Elliott," and is now the accepted music of this lyric of
perfect faith and pious surrender.
Just as I am,--Thy love unknown
Hath broken every barrier down,
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
"MY HOPE IS BUILT ON NOTHING LESS."
The Rev. Edward Mote was born in London, 1797. According to his own
testimony his parents were not God-fearing people, and he "went to a
school where no Bible was allowed;" but at the age of sixteen he
received religious impressions from a sermon of John Hyatt in Tottenham
Court Chapel, was converted two years later, studied for the ministry,
and ultimately became a faithful preacher of the gospel. Settled as
pastor of the Baptist Church in Horsham, Sussex, he remained there
twenty-six years--until his death, Nov. 13, 1874. The refrain of his
hymn came to him one Sabbath when on his way to Holborn to exchange
pulpits:
On Christ the solid rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand.
There were originally six stanzas, the first beginning:
Nor earth, nor hell, my soul can move,
I rest upon unchanging love.
The refrain is a fine one, and really sums up the whole hymn, keeping
constantly at the front the corner-stone of the poet's trust.
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But only lean on Jesus' name.
On Christ the solid Rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand.
When darkness veils His lovely face
I trust in His unchanging grace,
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil.
On Christ the solid Rock, etc.
Wm. B. Bradbury composed the tune (1863). It is usually named "The Solid
Rock."
"ABIDE WITH ME! FAST FALLS THE EVENTIDE."
The Rev. Henry Francis Lyte, author of this melodious hymn-prayer, was
born at Ednam, near Kelso, Scotland, June first, 1793. A scholar,
graduated at Trinity College, Dublin; a poet and a musician, the
hard-working curate was a man of frail physique, with a face of almost
feminine beauty, and a spirit as pure and gentle as a little child's.
The shadow of consumption was over him all his life. His memory is
chiefly associated with the district church at Lower Brixham,
Devonshire, where he became "perpetual curate" in 1823. He died at Nice,
France, Nov. 20, 1847.
On the evening of his last Sunday preaching and communion service he
handed to one of his family the manuscript of his hymn, "Abide with me,"
and the music he had composed for it. It was not till eight years later
that Henry Ward Beecher introduced it, or a part of it, to American
Congregationalists, and fourteen years after the author's death it began
to be sung as we now have it, in this country and England.
Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide,
The darkness deepens,--Lord with me abide!
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!
* * * * *
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!
_THE TUNE_
There is a pathos in the neglect and oblivion of Lyte's own tune set by
himself to his words, especially as it was in a sense the work of a
dying man who had hoped that he might not be "wholly mute and useless"
while lying in his grave, and who had prayed--
O Thou whose touch can lend
Life to the dead. Thy quickening grace supply,
And grant me swan-like my last breath to spend
In song that may not die!
His prayer was answered in God's own way. Another's melody hastened his
hymn on its useful career, and revealed to the world its immortal
value.
By the time it had won its slow recognition in England, it was probably
tuneless, and the compilers of _Hymns Ancient and Modern_ (1861)
discovering the fact just as they were finishing their work, asked Dr.
William Henry Monk, their music editor, to supply the want. "In ten
minutes," it is said, "Dr. Monk composed the sweet, pleading chant that
is wedded permanently to Lyte's swan song."
William Henry Monk, Doctor of Music, was born in London, 1823. His
musical education was early and thorough, and at the age of twenty-six
he was organist and choir director in King's College, London. Elected
(1876) professor of the National Training School, he interested himself
actively in popular musical education, delivering lectures at various
institutions, and establishing choral services.
His hymn-tunes are found in many song-manuals of the English Church and
in Scotland, and several have come to America.
Dr. Monk died in 1889.
"COME, YE DISCONSOLATE."
By Thomas Moore--about 1814. The poem in its original form differed
somewhat from the hymn we sing. Thomas Hastings--whose religious
experience, perhaps, made him better qualified than Thomas Moore for
spiritual expression--changed the second line,--
Come, at God's altar fervently kneel,
--to--
Come to the mercy seat,
--and in the second stanza replaced--
Hope when all others die,
--with--
Hope of the penitent;
--and for practically the whole of the last stanza--
Go ask the infidel what boon he brings us,
What charm for aching hearts he can reveal.
Sweet as that heavenly promise hope sings us,
"Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal,"
--Hastings substituted--
Here see the Bread of life, see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above!
Come to the feast Love, come ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove.
Dr. Hastings was not much of a poet, but he could make a _singable_
hymn, and he knew the rhythm and accent needed in a hymn-tune. The
determination was to make an evangelical hymn of a poem "too good to
lose," and in that view perhaps the editorial liberties taken with it
were excusable. It was to Moore, however, that the real hymn-thought and
key-note first came, and the title-line and the sweet refrain are his
own--for which the Christian world has thanked him, lo these many
years.
_THE TUNE._
Those who question why Dr. Hastings' interest in Moore's poem did not
cause him to make a tune for it, must conclude that it came to him with
its permanent melody ready made, and that the tune satisfied him.
The "German Air" to which Moore tells us he wrote the words, probably
took his fancy, if it did not induce his mood. Whether Samuel Webbe's
tune now wedded to the hymn is an arrangement of the old air or wholly
his own is immaterial. One can scarcely conceive a happier yoking of
counterparts. Try singing "Come ye Disconsolate" to "Rescue the
Perishing," for example, and we shall feel the impertinence of divorcing
a hymn that has found its musical affinity.
"JESUS, I MY CROSS HAVE TAKEN."
This is another well-known and characteristic hymn of Henry Francis
Lyte--originally six stanzas. We have been told that, besides his bodily
affliction, the grief of an unhappy division or difference in his church
weighed upon his spirit, and that it is alluded to in these lines--
Man may trouble and distress me,
'Twill but drive me to Thy breast,
Life with trials hard may press me,
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
O, 'tis not in grief to harm me
While Thy love is left to me,
O, 'tis not in joy to charm me
Were that joy unmixed with Thee.
Tunes, "Autumn," by F.H. Barthelemon, or "Ellesdie," (formerly called
"Disciple") from Mozart--familiar in either.
"FROM EVERY STORMY WIND THAT BLOWS."
This is the much-sung and deeply-cherished hymn of Christian peace that
a pious Manxman, Hugh Stowell, was inspired to write nearly a hundred
years ago. Ever since it has carried consolation to souls in both
ordinary and extraordinary trials.
It was sung by the eight American martyrs, Revs. Albert Johnson, John E.
Freeman, David E. Campbell and their wives, and Mr. and Mrs. McMullen,
when by order of the bloody Nana Sahib the captive missionaries were
taken prisoners and put to death at Cawnpore in 1857. Two little
children, Fannie and Willie Campbell, suffered with their parents.
From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes
There is a calm, a sure retreat;
'Tis found beneath the Mercy Seat.
Ah, whither could we flee for aid
When tempted, desolate, dismayed,
Or how the hosts of hell defeat
Had suffering saints no Mercy Seat?
There, there on eagle wings we soar,
And sin and sense molest no more,
And heaven comes down our souls to greet
While glory crowns the Mercy Seat.
[Illustration: John B. Dykes]
Rev. Hugh Stowell was born at Douglas on the Isle of Man, Dec. 3, 1799.
He was educated at Oxford and ordained to the ministry 1823, receiving
twelve years later the appointment of Canon to Chester Cathedral.
He was a popular and effective preacher and a graceful writer.
Forty-seven hymns are credited to him, the above being the best known.
To presume it is "his best," leaves a good margin of merit for the
remainder.
"From every stormy wind that blows" has practically but one tune. It has
been sung to Hastings "Retreat" ever since the music was made.
"CHILD OF SIN AND SORROW."
Child of sin and sorrow, filled with dismay,
Wait not for tomorrow, yield thee today.
Heaven bids thee come, while yet there's room,
Child of sin and sorrow, hear and obey.
Words and music by Thomas Hastings.
"LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT."
John Henry Newman, born in London, Feb. 21, 1801--known in religious
history as Cardinal Newman--wrote this hymn when he was a young
clergyman of the Church of England. "Born within the sound of Bow
bells," says Dr. Benson, "he was an imaginative boy, and so
superstitious, that he used constantly to cross himself when going into
the dark." Intelligent students of the fine hymn will note this habit of
its author's mind--and surmise its influence on his religious musings.
The agitations during the High Church movement, and the persuasions of
Hurrell Froude, a Romanist friend, while he was a tutor at Oxford,
gradually weakened his Protestant faith, and in his unrest he travelled
to the Mediterranean coast, crossed to Sicily, where he fell violently
ill, and after his recovery waited three weeks in Palermo for a return
boat. On his trip to Marseilles he wrote the hymn--with no thought that
it would ever be called a hymn.
When complimented on the beautiful production after it became famous he
modestly said, "It was not the hymn but the _tune_ that has gained the
popularity. The tune is Dykes' and Dr. Dykes is a great master."
Dr. Newman was created a Cardinal of the Church of Rome in the Catholic
Cathedral of London, 1879. Died Aug. 11, 1890.
_THE TUNE._
"Lux Benigna," by Dr. Dykes, was composed in Aug. 1865, and was the tune
chosen for this hymn by a committee preparing the Appendix to _Hymns
Ancient and Modern_. Dr. Dykes' statement that the tune came into his
head while walking through the Strand in London "presents a striking
contrast with the solitary origin of the hymn itself" (Benson).
Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on.
The night is dark and I am far from home;
Lead Thou me on.
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene,--one step enough for me.
* * * * *
So long Thy power hath bless'd me, sure it still
Will lead me on,
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.
"I HEARD THE VOICE OF JESUS SAY."
Few if any Christian writers of his generation have possessed tuneful
gifts in greater opulence or produced more vital and lasting treasures
of spiritual verse than Horatius Bonar of Scotland. He inherited some of
his poetic faculty from his grandfather, a clergyman who wrote several
hymns, and it is told of Horatius that hymns used to "come to" him while
riding on railroad trains. He was educated in the Edinburgh University
and studied theology with Dr. Chalmers, and his life was greatly
influenced by Dr. Guthrie, whom he followed in the establishment of the
Free Church of Scotland.
Born in 1808 in Edinburgh, he was about forty years old when he came
back from a successful pastorate at Kelso to the city of his home and
Alma Mater, and became virtually Chalmers' successor as minister of the
Chalmers Memorial Church.
The peculiar richness of Bonar's sacred songs very early created for
them a warm welcome in the religious world, and any devout lyric or poem
with his name attached to it is sure to be read.
Dr. Bonar died in Edinburgh, July 31, 1889. Writing of the hymn, "I
heard the voice," etc., Dr. David Breed calls it "one of the most
ingenious hymns in the language," referring to the fact that the
invitation and response exactly halve each stanza between them--song
followed by countersong. "Ingenious" seems hardly the right word for a
division so obviously natural and almost automatic. It is a simple art
beauty that a poet of culture makes by instinct. Bowring's "Watchman,
tell us of the night," is not the only other instance of similar
countersong structure, and the regularity in Thomas Scott's little hymn,
"Hasten, sinner, to be wise," is only a simpler case of the way a poem
plans itself by the compulsion of its subject.
I heard the voice of Jesus say,
Come unto me and rest,
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
Thy head upon My breast:
I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary and worn and sad,
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He has made me glad.
_THE TUNE._
The old melody of "Evan," long a favorite; and since known everywhere
through the currency given to it in the _Gospel Hymns_, has been in many
collections connected with the words. It is good congregational
psalmody, and not unsuited to the sentiment, taken line by line, but it
divides the stanzas into quatrains, which breaks the happy continuity.
"Evan" was made by Dr. Mason in 1850 from a song written four years
earlier by Rev. William Henry Havergal, Canon of Worcester Cathedral,
Eng. He was the father of Frances Ridley Havergal.
The more ancient "Athens," by Felice Giardini (1716-1796), author of the
"Italian Hymn," has clung, and still clings lovingly to Bonar's hymn in
many communities. Its simplicity, and the involuntary accent of its
sextuple time, exactly reproducing the easy iambic of the verses,
inevitably made it popular, and thousands of older singers today will
have no other music with "I heard the voice of Jesus say."
"Vox Jesu," from the andante in one of the quartets of Louis Spohr
(1784-1859), is a psalm-tune of good harmony, but too little feeling.
An excellent tune for all the shades of expression in the hymn, is the
arrangement by Hubert P. Main from Franz Abt--in A flat, triple time.
Gentle music through the first fifteen bars, in alternate duet and
quartet, utters the Divine Voice with the true accent of the lines, and
the second portion completes the harmony in glad, full chorus--the
answer of the human heart.
"Vox Dilecti," by Dr. Dykes, goes farther and writes the Voice in B flat
_minor_--which seems a needless substitution of divine sadness for
divine sweetness. It is a tune of striking chords, but its shift of key
to G natural (major) after the first four lines marks it rather for
trained choir performance than for assembly song.
It is possible to make too much of a dramatic perfection or a supposed
indication of structural design in a hymn. Textual equations, such as
distinguish Dr. Bonar's beautiful stanzas, are not necessarily
technical. To emphasize them as ingenious by an ingenious tune seems,
somehow, a reflection on the spontaneity of the hymn.
Louis Spohr was Director of the Court Theatre Orchestra in Cassel,
Prussia, in the first half of the last century. He was an eminent
composer of both vocal and instrumental music, and one of the greatest
violinists of Europe.
Hubert Platt Main was born in Ridgefield, Ct., Aug. 17, 1839. He read
music at sight when only ten years old, and at sixteen commenced writing
hymn-tunes. Was assistant compiler with both Bradbury and Woodbury in
their various publications, and in 1868 became connected with the firm
of Biglow and Main, and has been their book-maker until the present
time. As music editor in the partnership he has superintended the
publication of more than five hundred music-books, services, etc.
"I LOVE TO STEAL AWHILE AWAY."
The burdened wife and mother who wrote this hymn would, at the time,
have rated her history with "the short and simple annals of the poor."
But the poor who are "remembered for what they have done," may have a
larger place in history than many rich who did nothing.
Phebe Hinsdale Brown, was born in Canaan, N.Y., in 1783. Her father,
George Hinsdale, who died in her early childhood, must have been a man
of good abilities and religious feeling, being the reputed composer of
the psalm-tune, "Hinsdale," found in some long-ago collections.
Left an orphan at two years of age, Phebe "fell into the hands of a
relative who kept the county jail," and her childhood knew little but
the bitter fare and ceaseless drudgery of domestic slavery. She grew up
with a crushed spirit, and was a timid, shrinking woman as long as she
lived. She married Timothy H. Brown, a house-painter of Ellington, Ct.,
and passed her days there and in Monson, Mass., where she lived some
twenty-five years.
In her humble home in the former town her children were born, and it was
while caring for her own little family of four, and a sick sister, that
the incident occurred (August 1818), which called forth her tender hymn.
She was a devout Christian, and in pleasant weather, whenever she could
find the leisure, she would "steal away" at sunset from her burdens a
little while, to rest and commune with God. Her favorite place was a
wealthy neighbor's large and beautiful flower garden. A servant reported
her visits there to the mistress of the house, who called the "intruder"
to account.
"If you want anything, why don't you come in?" was the rude question,
followed by a plain hint that no stealthy person was welcome.
Wounded by the ill-natured rebuff, the sensitive woman sat down the next
evening with her baby in her lap, and half-blinded by her tears, wrote
"An Apology for my Twilight Rambles," in the verses that have made her
celebrated.
She sent the manuscript (nine stanzas) to her captious neighbor--with
what result has never been told.
Crude and simple as the little rhyme was, it contained a germ of lyric
beauty and life. The Rev. Dr. Charles Hyde of Ellington, who was a
neighbor of Mrs. Brown, procured a copy. He was assisting Dr. Nettleton
to compile the _Village Hymns_, and the humble bit of devotional verse
was at once judged worthy of a place in the new book. Dr. Hyde and his
daughter Emeline giving it some kind touches of rhythmic amendment,
I love to steal awhile away
From little ones and care,
--became,--
I love to steal awhile away
From _every cumb'ring_ care.
In the last line of this stanza--
In gratitude and prayer
--was changed to--
In humble, grateful prayer,
--and the few other defects in syllabic smoothness or literary grace
were affectionately repaired, but the slight furbishing it received did
not alter the individuality of Mrs. Brown's work. It remained
_hers_--and took its place among the immortals of its kind, another
illustration of how little poetry it takes to make a good hymn. Only
five stanzas were printed, the others being voted redundant by both
author and editor. The second and third, as now sung, are--
I love in solitude to shed
The penitential tear,
And all His promises to plead
Where none but God can hear.
I love to think on mercies past
And future good implore,
And all my cares and sorrows cast
On Him whom I adore.
Phebe Brown died at Henry, Ill., in 1861; but she had made the church
and the world her debtor not only for her little lyric of pious trust,
but by rearing a son, the Rev. Samuel Brown, D.D., who became the
pioneer American missionary to Japan--to which Christian calling two of
her grandchildren also consecrated themselves.
_THE TUNE._
Mrs. Brown's son Samuel, who, besides being a good minister, inherited
his grandfather's musical gift, composed the tune of "Monson," (named in
his mother's honor, after her late home), and it may have been the first
music set to her hymn. It was the fate of his offering, however, to lose
its filial place, and be succeeded by different melodies, though his own
still survives in a few collections, sometimes with Collyer's "O Jesus
in this solemn hour." It is good music for a hymn of _praise_ rather
than for meditative verse. Many years the hymn has been sung to
"Woodstock," an appropriate and still familiar tune by Deodatus Dutton.
Dutton's "Woodstock" and Bradbury's "Brown," which often replaces it,
are worthy rivals of each other, and both continue in favor as fit
choral interpretations of the much-loved hymn.
Deodatus Dutton was born Dec. 22, 1808, and educated at Brown University
and Washington College (now Trinity) Hartford Ct. While there he was a
student of music and played the organ at Dr. Matthews' church. He
studied theology in New York city, and had recently entered the ministry
when he suddenly died, Dec. 16, 1832, a moment before rising to preach a
sermon. During his brief life he had written several hymn-tunes, and
published a book of psalmody. Mrs. Sigourney wrote a poem on his death.
"THERE'S A WIDENESS IN GOD'S MERCY."
Frederick William Faber, author of this favorite hymn-poem, had a
peculiar genius for putting golden thoughts into common words, and
making them sing. Probably no other sample of his work shows better than
this his art of combining literary cleverness with the most reverent
piety. Cant was a quality Faber never could put into his religious
verse.
He was born in Yorkshire, Eng., June 28, 1814, and received his
education at Oxford. Settled as Rector of Elton, in Huntingdonshire, in
1843, he came into sympathy with the "Oxford Movement," and followed
Newman into the Romish Church. He continued his ministry as founder and
priest for the London branch of the Catholic congregation of St. Philip
Neri for fourteen years, dying Sept. 26, 1863, at the age of forty-nine.
His godly hymns betray no credal shibboleth or doctrinal bias, but are
songs for the whole earthly church of God.
There's a wideness in God's mercy
Like the wideness of the sea;
There's a kindness in His justice
Which is more than liberty.
There is welcome for the sinner
And more graces for the good;
There is mercy with the Saviour,
There is healing in His blood.
There's no place where earthly sorrows
Are more felt than up in heaven;
There's no place where earthly failings
Have such kindly judgment given.
There is plentiful redemption
In the blood that has been shed,
There is joy for all the members
In the sorrows of the Head.
For the love of God is broader
Than the measure of man's mind,
And the heart of the Eternal
Is most wonderfully kind.
If our love were but more simple
We should take Him at His word,
And our lives would be all sunshine
In the sweetness of the Lord.
No tone of comfort has breathed itself more surely and tenderly into
grieved hearts than these tuneful and singularly expressive sentences of
Frederick Faber.
_THE TUNE._
The music of S.J. Vail sung to Faber's hymn is one of that composer's
best hymn-tunes, and its melody and natural movement impress the
meaning as well as the simple beauty of the words.
Silas Jones Vail, an American music-writer, was born Oct., 1818, and
died May 20, 1883. Another charming tune is "Wellesley," by Lizzie S.
Tourjee, daughter of the late Dr. Eben Tourjee.
"HE LEADETH ME! OH, BLESSED THOUGHT."
Professor Gilmore, of Rochester University, N.Y., when a young Baptist
minister (1861) supplying a pulpit in Philadelphia "jotted down this
hymn in Deacon Watson's parlor" (as he says) and passed it to his wife,
one evening after he had made "a conference-room talk" on the 23d Psalm.
Mrs. Gilmore, without his knowledge, sent it to the _Watchman and
Reflector_ (now the _Watchman_).
Years after its publication in that paper, when a candidate for the
pastorate of the Second Baptist Church in Rochester, he was turning the
leaves of the vestry hymnal in use there, and saw his hymn in it. Since
that first publication in the _Devotional Hymn and Tune Book_ (1865) it
has been copied in the hymnals of various denominations, and steadily
holds its place in public favor. The refrain added by the tunemaker
emphasizes the sentiment of the lines, and undoubtedly enhances the
effect of the hymn.
"He leadeth me" has the true hymn quality, combining all the simplicity
of spontaneous thought and feeling with perfect accent and liquid
rhythm.
He leadeth me! Oh, blessed thought,
Oh, words with heavenly comfort fraught;
Whate'er I do, where'er I be,
Still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me!
* * * * *
Lord, I would clasp Thy hand in mine,
Nor ever murmur nor repine--
Content, whatever lot I see,
Since 'tis my God that leadeth me.
Professor Joseph Henry Gilmore was born in Boston, April 29, 1834. He
was graduated at Phillips Academy, Andover, at Brown University, and at
the Newton Theological Institution, where he was afterwards Hebrew
instructor.
After four years of pastoral service he was elected (1867) professor of
the English Language and Literature in Rochester University. He has
published _Familiar Chats on Books and Reading_, also several college
text-books on rhetoric, logic and oratory.
_THE TUNE._
The little hymn of four stanzas was peculiarly fortunate in meeting the
eye of Mr. William B. Bradbury, (1863) and winning his musical sympathy
and alliance. Few composers have so exactly caught the tone and spirit
of their text as Bradbury did when he vocalized the gliding measures of
"He leadeth me."
CHAPTER VI.
CHRISTIAN BALLADS.
Echoes of Hebrew thought, if not Hebrew psalmody, may have made their
way into the more serious pagan literature. At least in the more
enlightened pagans there has ever revealed itself more or less the
instinct of the human soul that "feels after" God. St. Paul in his
address to the Athenians made a tactful as well as scholarly point to
preface a missionary sermon when he cited a line from a poem of Aratus
(B.C. 272) familiar, doubtless, to the majority of his hearers.
Dr. Lyman Abbot has thus translated the passage in which the line
occurs:
Let us begin from God. Let every mortal raise
The grateful voice to tune God's endless praise,
God fills the heaven, the earth, the sea, the air;
We feel His spirit moving everywhere,
And we His offspring are.[17] He, ever good,
Daily provides for man his daily food.
To Him, the First, the Last, all homage yield,--
Our Father wonderful, our help, our shield.
[Footnote 17: [Greek: Tou gar kai genos esmen.]]
"RISE, CROWNED WITH LIGHT."
Alexander Pope, a Roman Catholic poet, born in London 1688, died at
Twickenham 1744, was not a hymnist, but passages in his most serious and
exalted flights deserve a tuneful accompaniment. His translations of
Homer made him famous, but his ethical poems, especially his "Essay on
Man," are inexhaustible mines of quotation, many of the lines and
couplets being common as proverbs. His "Messiah," written about 1711, is
a religious anthem in which the prophecies of Holy Writ kindle all the
splendor of his verse.
_THE TUNE._
The closing strain, indicated by the above line, has been divided into
stanzas of four lines suitable to a church hymn-tune. The melody
selected by the compilers of the _Plymouth Hymnal_, and of the
_Unitarian Hymn and Tune Book_ is "Savannah," an American sounding name
for what is really one of Pleyel's chorals. The music is worthy of
Pope's triumphal song.
The seas shall waste, the skies to smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away,
But fixed His Word; His saving power remains:
Thy realm shall last; thy own Messiah reigns.
"OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT?"
This is a sombre poem, but its virile strength and its literary merit
have given it currency, and commended it to the taste of many people,
both weak and strong, who have the pensive temperament. Abraham Lincoln
loved it and committed it to memory in his boyhood. Philip Phillips set
it to music, and sang it--or a part of it--one day during the Civil war
at the anniversary of the Christian Sanitary Commission, when President
Lincoln, who was present, called for its repetition.[18] It was written
by William Knox, born 1789, son of a Scottish farmer.
[Footnote 18: This account so nearly resembles the story of Mrs. Gates'
"Your Mission," sung to a similar audience, on a similar occasion, by
the same man, that a possible confusion by the narrators of the incident
has been suggested. But that Mr. Phillips sang twice before the
President during the war does not appear to be contradicted. To what air
he sang the above verses is uncertain.]
The poem has fourteen stanzas, the following being the first and two
last--
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
He passeth from life to rest in the grave.
* * * * *
Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
Are mingled together like sunshine and rain;
And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other like surge upon surge.
'Tis the wink of an eye; 'tis the draft of a breath
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud,
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Philip Phillips was born in Jamestown, Chautauqua Co., N.Y., Aug. 11,
1834, and died in Delaware, O., June 25, 1895. He wrote no hymns and was
not an educated musician, but the airs of popular hymn-music came to him
and were harmonized for him by others, most frequently by his friends,
S.J. Vail and Hubert P. Main. He compiled and published thirty-one
collections for Sunday-schools and gospel meetings, besides the
_Methodist Hymn and Tune Book_, issued in 1866.
He was a pioneer gospel singer, and his tuneful journeys through
America, England and Australia gave him the name of the "Singing
Pilgrim," the title of his song collection (1867).
"WHEN ISRAEL OF THE LORD BELOVED."
The "Song of Rebecca the Jewess," in "Ivanhoe," was written by Sir
Walter Scott, author of the Waverly Novels, "Marmion," etc., born in
Edinburgh, 1771, and died at Abbotsford, 1832. The lines purport to be
the Hebrew hymn with which Rebecca closed her daily devotions while in
prison under sentence of death.
When Israel of the Lord beloved
Out of the land of bondage came
Her fathers' God before her moved,
An awful Guide in smoke and flame.
* * * * *
Then rose the choral hymn of praise,
And trump and timbrel answered keen,
And Zion's daughters poured their lays.
With priest's and warrior's voice between.
* * * * *
By day along th' astonished lands
The cloudy Pillar glided slow,
By night Arabia's crimson'd sands
Returned the fiery Column's glow.
* * * * *
And O, when gathers o'er our path
In shade and storm the frequent night
Be Thou, long suffering, slow to wrath,
A burning and a shining Light!
The "Hymn of Rebecca" has been set to music though never in common use
as a hymn. Old "Truro", by Dr. Charles Burney (1726-1814) is a grand
Scotch psalm harmony for the words, though one of the Unitarian hymnals
borrows Zeuner's sonorous choral, the "Missionary Chant." Both sound the
lyric of the Jewess in good Christian music.
"WE SAT DOWN AND WEPT BY THE WATERS."
The 137th Psalm has been for centuries a favorite with poets and
poetical translators, and its pathos appealed to Lord Byron when engaged
in writing his _Hebrew Melodies_.
Byron was born in London, 1788, and died at Missolonghi, Western Greece,
1824.
We sat down and wept by the waters
Of Babel, and thought of the day
When the foe, in the hue of his slaughters,
Made Salem's high places his prey,
And ye, Oh her desolate daughters,
Were scattered all weeping away.
--Written April, 1814. It was the fashion then for musical societies to
call on the popular poets for contributions, and tunes were composed for
them, though these have practically passed into oblivion.
Byron's ringing ballad (from II Kings 19:35)--
Th' Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold,
--has been so much a favorite for recitation and declamation that the
loss of its tune is never thought of.
Another poetic rendering of the "Captivity Psalm" is worthy of notice
among the lay hymns not unworthy to supplement clerical sermons. It was
written by the Hon. Joel Barlow in 1799, and published in a pioneer
psalm-book at Northampton, Mass. It is neither a translation nor
properly a hymn but a poem built upon the words of the Jewish lament,
and really reproducing something of its plaintive beauty. Two stanzas of
it are as follows:
Along the banks where Babel's current flows
Our captive bands in deep despondence strayed,
While Zion's fall in deep remembrance rose,
Her friends, her children mingled with the dead.
The tuneless harps that once with joy we strung
When praise employed, or mirth inspired the lay,
In mournful silence on the willows hung,
And growing grief prolonged the tedious day.
Like Pope, this American poet loved onomatope and imitative verse, and
the last line is a word-picture of home-sick weariness. This "psalm"
was the best piece of work in Mr. Barlow's series of attempted
improvements upon Isaac Watts--which on the whole were not very
successful. The sweet cantabile of Mason's "Melton" gave "Along the
banks" quite an extended lease of life, though it has now ceased to be
sung.
Joel Barlow was a versatile gentleman, serving his country and
generation in almost every useful capacity, from chaplain in the
continental army to foreign ambassador. He was born in Redding, Ct.,
1755, and died near Cracow, Poland, Dec. 1812.
"AS DOWN IN THE SUNLESS."
Thomas Moore, the poet of glees and love-madrigals, had sober thoughts
in the intervals of his gaiety, and employed his genius in writing
religious and even devout poems, which have been spiritually helpful in
many phases of Christian experience. Among them was this and the four
following hymns, with thirty-four others, each of which he carefully
labelled with the name of a music composer, though the particular tune
is left indefinite. "The still prayer of devotion" here answers, in
rhyme and reality, the simile of the sea-flower in the unseen deep, and
the mariner's compass represents the constancy of a believer.
As, still to the star of its worship, though clouded,
The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea,
So, dark as I roam in this wintry world shrouded,
The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.
It is sung in _Plymouth Hymnal_ to Barnby's "St. Botolph."
"THE TURF SHALL BE MY FRAGRANT SHRINE"
Is, in part, still preserved in hymn collections, and sung to the noble
tune of "Louvan," Virgil Taylor's piece. The last stanza is especially
reminiscent of the music.
There's nothing bright above, below,
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow;
But in its light my soul can see
Some feature of Thy deity.
"O THOU WHO DRY'ST THE MOURNER'S TEAR"
Is associated in the _Baptist Praise Book_ with Woodbury's "Siloam."
"THE BIRD LET LOOSE IN EASTERN SKIES"
Has been sung in Mason's "Coventry," and the _Plymouth Hymnal_ assigns
it to "Spohr"--a namesake tune of Louis Spohr, while the _Unitarian Hymn
and Tune Book_ unites to it a beautiful triple-time melody from Mozart,
and bearing his name.
"THOU ART, O GOD, THE LIFE AND LIGHT."
This is the best of the Irish poet's sacred songs--always excepting,
"Come, Ye Disconsolate." It is said to have been originally set to a
secular melody composed by the wife of Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan.
It is joined to the tune of "Brighton" in the Unitarian books, and
William Monk's "Matthias" voices the words for the _Plymouth Hymnal_.
The verses have the true lyrical glow, and make a real song of praise as
well a composition of more than ordinary literary beauty.
Thou art, O God, the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night
Are but reflections caught from Thee.
Where'er we turn Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine.
* * * * *
When night with wings of starry gloom
O'ershadows all the earth, and skies
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes,
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord, are Thine.
When youthful spring around us breathes,
Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh,
And every flower the summer wreathes
Is born beneath that kindling eye.
Where'er we turn Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine.
"MOURNFULLY, TENDERLY, BEAR ON THE DEAD."
A tender funeral ballad by Henry S. Washburn, composed in 1846 and
entitled "The Burial of Mrs. Judson." It is rare now in sheet-music form
but the _American Vocalist_, to be found in the stores of most great
music publishers and dealers, preserves the full poem and score.
Its occasion was the death at sea, off St. Helena, of the Baptist
missionary, Mrs. Sarah Hall Boardman Judson, and the solemn committal of
her remains to the dust on that historic island, Sept. 1, 1845. She was
on her way to America from Burmah at the time of her death, and the ship
proceeded on its homeward voyage immediately after her burial. The
touching circumstances of the gifted lady's death, and the strange
romance of her entombment where Napoleon's grave was made twenty-four
years before, inspired Mr. Washburn, who was a prominent layman of the
Baptist denomination, and interested in all its ecclesiastical and
missionary activities, and he wrote this poetic memorial of the event:
Mournfully, tenderly, bear on the dead;
Where the warrior has lain, let the Christian be laid.
No place more befitting, O rock of the sea;
Never such treasure was hidden in thee.
Mournfully, tenderly, solemn and slow;
Tears are bedewing the path as ye go;
Kindred and strangers are mourners today;
Gently, so gently, O bear her away.
Mournfully, tenderly, gaze on that brow;
Beautiful is it in quietude now.
One look, and then settle the loved to her rest
The ocean beneath her, the turf on her breast.
Mrs. Sarah Judson was the second wife of the Rev. Adoniram Judson, D.D.,
the celebrated pioneer American Baptist missionary, and the mother by
her first marriage, of the late Rev. George Dana Boardman, D.D., LL.D.,
of Philadelphia.
The Hon. Henry S. Washburn was born in Providence, R.I., 1813, and
educated at Brown University. During most of his long life he resided in
Massachusetts, and occupied there many positions of honor and trust,
serving in the State Legislature both as Representative and Senator. He
was the author of many poems and lyrics of high merit, some of
which--notably "The Vacant Chair"--became popular in sheet-music and in
books of religious and educational use. He died in 1903.
_THE TUNE._
"The Burial of Mrs. Judson" became favorite parlor music when Lyman
Heath composed the melody for it--of the same name. Its notes and
movement were evidently inspired by the poem, for it reproduces the
feeling of every line. The threnody was widely known and sung in the
middle years of the last century, by people, too, who had scarcely heard
of Mrs. Judson, and received in the music and words their first hint of
her history. The poem prompted the tune, but the tune was the garland of
the poem.
Lyman Heath of Bow, N.H., was born there Aug. 24, 1804. He studied
music, and became a vocalist and vocal composer. Died July 30, 1870.
"TELL ME NOT IN MOURNFUL NUMBERS."
Longfellow's "Psalm of Life" was written when he was a young man, and
for some years it carried the title he gave it, "What the Young Man's
Heart Said to the Psalmist"--a caption altogether too long to bear
currency.
The history of the beloved poet who wrote this optimistic ballad of hope
and courage is too well known to need recounting here. He was born in
Portland, Me., in 1807, graduated at Bowdoin College, and was for more
than forty years professor of Belles Lettres in Harvard University. Died
in Cambridge, March 4, 1882. Of his longer poems the most read and
admired are his beautiful romance of "Evangeline," and his epic of
"Hiawatha," but it is hardly too much to say that for the last sixty
years, his "Psalm of Life" has been the common property of all American,
if not English school-children, and a part of their education. When he
was in London, Queen Victoria sent for him to come and see her at the
palace. He went, and just as he was seating himself in the waiting coach
after the interview, a man in working clothes appeared, hat in hand, at
the coach window.
"Please sir, yer honor," said he, "an' are you Mr. Longfellow?"
"I am Mr. Longfellow," said the poet.
"An' did you write the Psalm of Life?" he asked.
"I wrote the Psalm of Life," replied the poet.
"An', yer honor, would you be willing to take a workingman by the hand?"
Mr. Longfellow gave the honest Englishman a hearty handshake, "And"
(said he in telling the story) "I never in my life received a compliment
that gave me more satisfaction."
The incident has a delightful democratic flavor--and it is perfectly
characteristic of the amiable author of the most popular poem in the
English language. The "Psalm of Life" is a wonderful example of the
power of commonplaces put into tuneful and elegant verse.
The thought of setting the poem to music came to the compiler of one of
the Unitarian church singing books. Some will question, however, whether
the selection was the happiest that could have been made. The tune is
"Rathbun," Ithamar Conkey's melody that always recalls Sir John
Bowring's great hymn of praise.
"BUILD THEE MORE NOBLE MANSIONS."
This poem by Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, known among his works as "The
Chambered Nautilus," was considered by himself as his worthiest
achievement in verse, and his wish that it might live is likely to be
fulfilled. It is stately, and in character and effect a rhythmic sermon
from a text in "natural theology." The biography of one of the little
molluscan sea-navigators that continually enlarges its shell to adapt it
to its growth inspired the thoughtful lines. The third, fourth and
fifth stanzas are as follows:
Year after year beheld the silent toil
That spread the lustrous coil;
Still, as the spiral grew,
He left the last year's dwelling for the new,
Stole with soft step the shining archway through,
Built up its idle door,
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
Child of the wand'ring sea,
Cast from her lap forlorn!
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!
While on my ear it rings
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings,
"Build thee more noble mansions, O my soul.
As the swift seasons roll:
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thy outgrown shell by life's unresting sea."
Dr. Frederic Hedge included the poem in his hymn-book but without any
singing-supplement to the words.
WHITTIER'S SERVICE SONG.
It may not be our lot to wield
The sickle in the harvest field.
If this stanza and the four following do not reveal all the strength of
John G. Whittier's spirit, they convey its serious sweetness. The
verses were loved and prized by both President Garfield and President
McKinley. On the Sunday before the latter went from his Canton, O., home
to his inauguration in Washington the poem was sung as a hymn at his
request in the services at the Methodist church where he had been a
constant worshipper.
The second stanza is the one most generally recognized and oftenest
quoted:
Yet where our duty's task is wrought
In unison with God's great thought,
The near and future blend in one,
And whatsoe'er is willed, is done.
John Greenleaf Whittier, the poet of the oppressed, was born in
Haverhill, Mass., 1807, worked on a farm and on a shoe-bench, and
studied at the local academy, until, becoming of age, he went to
Hartford, Conn., and began a brief experience in editorial life. Soon
after his return to Massachusetts he was elected to the Legislature, and
after his duties ended there he left the state for Philadelphia to edit
the _Pennsylvania Freeman_. A few years later he returned again, and
established his home in Amesbury, the town with which his life and works
are always associated.
He died in 1892 at Hampton Falls, N.H., where he had gone for his
health.
_THE TUNE._
"Abends," the smooth triple-time choral joined to Whittier's poem by the
music editor of the new _Methodist Hymnal_, speaks its meaning so well
that it is scarcely worth while to look for another. Sir Herbert Stanley
Oakeley, the composer, was born at Ealing, Eng., July 22, 1830, and
educated at Rugby and Oxford. He studied music in Germany, and became a
superior organist, winning great applause by his recitals at Edinburgh
University, where he was elected Musical Professor.
Archbishop Tait gave him the doctorate of music at Canterbury in 1871,
and he was knighted by Queen Victoria in 1876.
Besides vocal duets, Scotch melodies and student songs, he composed many
anthems and tunes for the church--notably "Edina" ("Saviour, blessed
Saviour") and "Abends," originally written to Keble's "Sun of my Soul."
"THE BIRD WITH THE BROKEN PINION."
This lay of a lost gift, with its striking lesson, might have been
copied from the wounded bird's own song, it is so natural and so
clear-toned. The opportune thought and pen of Mr. Hezekiah Butterworth
gave being to the little ballad the day he heard the late Dr. George
Lorimer preach from a text in the story of Samson's fall (Judges 16:21)
"The Philistines took him, and put out his eyes, and brought him down to
Gaza ... and he did grind in the prison-house." A sentence in the
course of the doctor's sermon, "The bird with a broken pinion never
soars as high again," was caught up by the listening author, and became
the refrain of his impressive song. Rev. Frank M. Lamb, the tuneful
evangelist, found it in print, and wrote a tune to it, and in his voice
and the voices of other singers the little monitor has since told its
story in revival meetings, and mission and gospel services throughout
the land.
I walked through the woodland meadows
Where sweet the thrushes sing,
And found on a bed of mosses
A bird with a broken wing.
I healed its wound, and each morning
It sang its old sweet strain,
But the bird with a broken pinion
Never soared as high again.
I found a young life broken
By sin's seductive art;
And, touched with a Christ-like pity,
I took him to my heart.
He lived--with a noble purpose,
And struggled not in vain;
But the life that sin had stricken
Never soared as high again.
But the bird with a broken pinion
Kept another from the snare,
And the life that sin had stricken
Saved another from despair.
Each loss has its compensation,
There is healing for every pain
But the bird with a broken pinion
Never soars as high again.
In the tune an extra stanza is added--as if something conventional were
needed to make the poem a hymn. But the professional tone of the
appended stanza, virtually all in its two lines--
Then come to the dear Redeemer,
He will cleanse you from every stain,
--is forced into its connection. The poem told the truth, and stopped
there; and should be left to fasten its own impression. There never was
a more solemn warning uttered than in this little apologue. It promises
"compensation" and "healing," but not perfect rehabilitation. Sin will
leave its scars. Even He who "became sin for us" bore them in His
resurrection body.
Rev. Frank M. Lamb, composer and singer of the hymn-tune, was born in
Poland, Me., 1860, and educated in the schools of Poland and Auburn. He
was licensed to preach in 1888, and ordained the same year, and has
since held pastorates in Maine, New York, and Massachusetts.
Besides his tune, very pleasing and appropriate music has been written
to the little ballad of the broken wing by Geo. C. Stebbins.
[Illustration: Ellen M.H. Gates]
UNDER THE PALMS.
In the cantata, "Under the Palms" ("Captive Judah in Babylon")--the
joint production of George F. Root[19] and Hezekiah Butterworth, several
of the latter's songs detached themselves, with their music, from the
main work, and lingered in choral or solo service in places where the
sacred operetta was presented, both in America and England. One of these
is an effective solo in deep contralto, with a suggestion of recitative
and chant--
By the dark Euphrates' stream,
By the Tigris, sad and lone
I wandered, a captive maid;
And the cruel Assyrian said,
"Awake your harp's sweet tone!"
I had heard of my fathers' glory from the lips of holy men,
And I thought of the land of my fathers; I thought of my fathers'
land then.
Another is--
O church of Christ! our blest abode,
Celestial grace is thine.
Thou art the dwelling-place of God,
The gate of joy divine.
Whene'er I come to thee in joy,
Whene'er I come in tears,
Still at the Gate called Beautiful
My risen Lord appears.
--with the chorus--
Where'er for me the sun may set,
Wherever I may dwell,
My heart shall nevermore forget
Thy courts, Immanuel!
[Footnote 19: See page 316.]
"IF YOU CANNOT ON THE OCEAN."
This popular Christian ballad, entitled "Your Mission," was written one
stormy day in the winter of 1861-2 by Miss Ellen M. Huntington (Mrs.
Isaac Gates), and made her reputation as one of the few didactic poets
whose exquisite art wins a hearing for them everywhere. In a moment of
revery, while looking through the window at the falling snow, the words
came to her:
If you cannot on the ocean
Sail among the swiftest fleet.
She turned away and wrote the lines on her slate, following with verse
after verse till she finished the whole poem. "It wrote itself," she
says in her own account of it.
Reading afterwards what she had written, she was surprised at her work.
The poem had a meaning and a "mission." So strong was the impression
that the devout girl fell on her knees and consecrated it to a divine
purpose. Free copies of it went to the Cooperstown, N.Y., local paper,
and to the New York _Examiner_, and appeared in both. From that time the
history and career of "Your Mission" presents a marked illustration of
"catenal influence," or transmitted suggestion.
In the later days of the Civil War Philip Phillips, who had a
wonderfully sweet tenor voice, was invited to sing at a great meeting of
the United States Christian Commission in the Senate Chamber at
Washington, February, 1865, President Lincoln and Secretary Seward
(then president of the commission) were there, and the hall was crowded
with leading statesmen, army generals, and friends of the Union. The
song selected by Mr. Phillips was Mrs. Gates' "Your Mission":
If you cannot on the ocean
Sail among the swiftest fleet,
Rocking on the highest billows,
Laughing at the storms you meet,
You can stand among the sailors
Anchored yet within the bay;
You can lend a hand to help them
As they launch their boats away.
The hushed audience listened spell-bound as the sweet singer went on,
their interest growing to feverish eagerness until the climax was
reached in the fifth stanza:
If you cannot in the conflict
Prove yourself a soldier true,
If where fire and smoke are thickest
There's no work for you to do,
When the battlefield is silent
You can go with careful tread;
You can bear away the wounded,
You can cover up the dead.
In the storm of enthusiasm that followed, President Lincoln handed a
hastily scribbled line on a bit of paper to Chairman Seward,
"Near the close let us have 'Your Mission' repeated."
Mr. Phillips' great success on this occasion brought him so many calls
for his services that he gave up everything and devoted himself to his
tuneful art. "Your Mission" so gladly welcomed at Washington made him
the first gospel songster, chanting round the world the divine message
of the hymns. It was the singing by Philip Phillips that first impressed
Ira D. Sankey with the amazing power of evangelical solo song, and
helped him years later to resign his lucrative business as a revenue
officer and consecrate his own rare vocal gift to the Christian ministry
of sacred music. Heaven alone can show the birth-records of souls won to
God all along the journeys of the "Singing Pilgrims," and the rich
succession of Mr. Sankey's melodies, that can be traced back by a chain
of causes to the poem that "wrote itself" and became a hymn. And the
chain may not yet be complete. In the words of that providential poem--
Though they may forget the singer
They will not forget the song.
Mrs. Ellen M.H. Gates, whose reputation as an author was made by this
beautiful and always timely poem, was born in Torrington, Ct., and is
the youngest sister of the late Collis P. Huntington. Her
hymns--included in this volume and in other publications--are much
admired and loved, both for their sweetness and elevated religious
feeling, and for their poetic quality. Among her published books of
verse are "Night," "At Noontide," and "Treasures of Kurium." Her address
is New York City.
_THE TUNE._
Sidney Martin Grannis, author of the tune, was born Sept. 23, 1827, in
Geneseo, Livingston county, N.Y. Lived in Leroy, of the same state, from
1831 to 1884, when he removed to Los Angeles, Cal., where several of his
admirers presented him a cottage and grounds, which at last accounts he
still occupies. Mr. Grannis won his first reputation as a popular
musician by his song "Do They Miss Me at Home," and his "Only Waiting,"
"Cling to the Union," and "People Will Talk You Know," had an equally
wide currency. As a solo singer his voice was remarkable, covering a
range of two octaves, and while travelling with members of the "Amphion
Troupe," to which he belonged, he sang at more than five thousand
concerts. His tune to "Your Mission" was composed in New Haven, Ct., in
1864.
"TOO LATE! TOO LATE! YE CANNOT ENTER NOW."
"Too Late" is a thrilling fragment or side-song of Alfred Tennyson's,
representing the vain plea of the five Foolish Virgins. Its tune bears
the name of a London lady, "Miss Lindsay" (afterwards Mrs. J.
Worthington Bliss). The arrangement of air, duo and quartet is very
impressive[20].
[Footnote 20: _Methodist Hymnal_, No. 743.]
"Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill:
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still."
"Too late! too late! ye cannot enter now!"
"No light! so late! and dark and chill the night--
O let us in that we may find the light!"
"Too late! too late! ye cannot enter now!"
* * * * *
"Have we not heard the Bridegroom is so sweet?
O let us in that we may kiss his feet!"
"No, No--! too late! ye cannot enter now!"
The words are found in "Queen Guinevere," a canto of the "Idyls of the
King."
"OH, GALILEE, SWEET GALILEE."
This is the chorus of a charming poem of three stanzas that shaped
itself in the mind of Mr. Robert Morris while sitting over the ruins on
the traditional site of Capernaum by the Lake of Genneseret.
Each cooing dove, each sighing bough,
That makes the eve so blest to me,
Has something far diviner now,
It bears me back to Galilee.
CHORUS
Oh, Galilee, sweet Galilee,
Where Jesus loved so much to be;
Oh, Galilee, blue Galilee,
Come sing thy song again to me.
Robert Morris, LL.D., born Aug. 31, 1818, was a scholar, and an expert
in certain scientific subjects, and wrote works on numismatics and the
"Poetry of Free Masonry." Commissioned to Palestine in 1868 on historic
and archaeological service for the United Order, he explored the scenes
of ancient Jewish and Christian life and event in the Holy Land, and
being a religious man, followed the Saviour's earthly footsteps with a
reverent zeal that left its inspiration with him while he lived. He died
in the year 1888, but his Christian ballad secured him a lasting place
in every devout memory.
_THE TUNE._
The author wrote out his hymn in 1874 and sent it to his friend, the
musician, Mr. Horatio R. Palmer,[21] and the latter learned it by heart,
and carried it with him in his musings "till it floated out in the
melody you know," (to use his own words.)
[Footnote 21: See page 311.]
CHAPTER VII.
OLD REVIVAL HYMNS.
The sober churches of the "Old Thirteen" states and of their successors
far into the nineteenth century, sustained evening prayer-meetings more
or less commonly, but necessity made them in most cases "cottage
meetings" appointed on Sunday and here and there in the scattered homes
of country parishes. Their intent was the same as that of "revival
meetings," since so called, though the method--and the music--were
different. The results in winning sinners, so far as they owed anything
to the hymns and hymn-tunes, were apt to be a new generation of
Christian recruits as sombre as the singing. "Lebanon" set forth the
appalling shortness of human life; "Windham" gave its depressing story
of the great majority of mankind on the "broad road," and other minor
tunes proclaimed God's sovereignty and eternal decrees; or if a psalm
had His love in it, it was likely to be sung in a similar melancholy
key. Even in his gladness the good minister, Thomas Baldwin, of the
Second Baptist Church, at Boston, North End, returning from Newport,
N.H., where he had happily harmonized a discordant church, could not
escape the strait-lace of a C minor for his thankful hymn--
From whence doth this union arise,
That hatred is conquered by love.
"The Puritans took their pleasures seriously," and this did not cease to
be true till at least two hundred years after the Pilgrims landed or
Boston was founded.
Time, that covered the ghastly faces on the old grave-stones with moss,
gradually stole away the unction of minor-tune singing.
The songs of the great revival of 1740 swept the country with positive
rather than negative music. Even Jonathan Edwards admitted the need of
better psalm-books and better psalmody.
Edwards, during his life, spent some time among the Indians as a
missionary teacher; but probably neither he nor David Brainerd ever saw
a Christian hymn composed by an Indian. The following, from the early
years of the last century, is apparently the first, certainly the only
surviving, effort of a converted but half-educated red man to utter his
thoughts in pious metre. Whoever trimmed the original words and measure
into printable shape evidently took care to preserve the broken English
of the simple convert. It is an interesting relic of the Christian
thought and sentiment of a pagan just learning to prattle prayer and
praise:
In de dark wood, no Indian nigh,
Den me look heaben, send up cry,
Upon my knees so low.
Dat God on high, in shinee place,
See me in night, with teary face,
De priest, he tell me so.
God send Him angel take me care;
Him come Heself and hear um prayer,
If Indian heart do pray.
God see me now, He know me here.
He say, poor Indian, neber fear,
Me wid you night and day.
So me lub God wid inside heart;
He fight for me, He take my part,
He save my life before.
God lub poor Indian in de wood;
So me lub God, and dat be good;
Me pray Him two times more.
When me be old, me head be gray,
Den He no lebe me, so He say:
Me wid you till you die.
Den take me up to shinee place,
See white man, red man, black man's face,
All happy 'like on high.
Few days, den God will come to me,
He knock off chains, He set me free,
Den take me up on high.
Den Indian sing His praises blest,
And lub and praise Him wid de rest,
And neber, neber cry.
The above hymn, which may be found in different forms in old New England
tracts and hymn-books, and which used to be sung in Methodist conference
and prayer-meetings in the same way that old slave-hymns and the
"Jubilee Singers" refrains are sometimes sung now, was composed by
William Apes, a converted Indian, who was born in Massachusetts, in
1798. His father was a white man, but married an Indian descended from
the family of King Philip, the Indian warrior, and the last of the
Indian chiefs. His grandmother was the king's granddaughter, as he
claimed, and was famous for her personal beauty. He caused his
autobiography and religious experience to be published. The original
hymn is quite long, and contains some singular and characteristic
expressions.
The authorship of the tune to which the words were sung has been claimed
for Samuel Cowdell, a schoolmaster of Annapolis Valley, Nova Scotia,
1820, but the date of the lost tune was probably much earlier.
In the early days of New England, before the Indian missions had been
brought to an end by the sweeping away of the tribes, several fine hymns
were composed by educated Indians, and were used in the churches. The
best known is that beginning--
When shall we all meet again?
It was composed by three Indians at the planting of a memorial pine on
leaving Dartmouth College, where they had been studying. The lines
indicate an expectation of missionary life and work.
When shall we all meet again?
When shall we all meet again?
Oft shall glowing hope expire,
Oft shall wearied love retire,
Oft shall death and sorrow reign
Ere we all shall meet again.
Though in distant lands we sigh,
Parched beneath a burning sky,
Though the deep between us rolls,
Friendship shall unite our souls;
And in fancy's wide domain,
There we all shall meet again.
When these burnished locks are gray,
Thinned by many a toil-spent day,
When around this youthful pine
Moss shall creep and ivy twine,
(Long may this loved bower remain!)
Here may we all meet again.
When the dreams of life are fled,
When its wasted lamps are dead,
When in cold oblivion's shade
Beauty, health, and strength are laid,
Where immortal spirits reign,
There we all shall meet again.
This parting piece was sung in religious meetings as a hymn, like the
other once so common, but later,--
"When shall we meet again,
Meet ne'er to sever?"
--to a tune in B flat minor, excessively plaintive, and likely to sadden
an emotional singer or hearer to tears. The full harmony is found in the
_American Vocalist_, and the air is reprinted in the _Revivalist_
(1868). The fact that minor music is the natural Indian tone in song
makes it probable that the melody is as ancient as the hymn--though no
date is given for either.
Tradition says that nearly fifty years later the same three Indians were
providentially drawn to the spot where they parted, and met again, and
while they were together composed and sang another ode. Truth to tell,
however, it had only one note of gladness, and that was in the first
stanza:
Parted many a toil-spent year,
Pledged in youth to memory dear,
Still to friendship's magnet true,
We our social joys renew;
Bound by love's unsevered chain,
Here on earth we meet again.
The remaining three stanzas dwell principally on the ravages time has
made. The reunion ode of those stoical college classmates of a stoical
race could have been sung in the same B flat minor.
"AWAKED BY SINAI'S AWFUL SOUND."
The name of the Indian, Samson Occum, who wrote this hymn (variously
spelt Ockom, Ockum, Occam, Occom) is not borne by any public
institution, but New England owes the foundation of Dartmouth College to
his hard work. Dartmouth College was originally "Moore's Indian Charity
School," organized (1750) in Lebanon, Ct., by Rev. Eleazer Wheelock and
endowed (1755) by Joshua Moore (or More). Good men and women who had at
heart the spiritual welfare of a fading race contributed to the school's
support and young Indians resorted to it from both New England and the
Middle States, but funds were insufficient, and it was foreseen that the
charity must inevitably outgrow its missionary purpose and if continued
at all must depend on a wider and more liberal patronage.
Samson Occum was born in Mohegan, New London Co., Ct., probably in the
year 1722. Converted from paganism in 1740 (possibly under the preaching
of Whitefield, who was in this country at that time) he desired to
become a missionary to his people, and entered Eleazer Wheelock's
school. After four years study, then a young man of twenty-two, he began
to teach and preach among the Montauk Indians, and in 1759 the
Presbytery of Suffolk Co., L.I., ordained him to the ministry. A
benevolent society in Scotland, hearing of, his ability and zeal, gave
him an appointment, under its auspices, among the Oneidas in 1761, where
he labored four years. The interests of the school at Lebanon, where he
had been educated, were dear to him, and he was tireless in its cause,
procuring pupils for it, and working eloquently as its advocate with
voice and pen. In 1765 he crossed the Atlantic to solicit funds for the
Indian school, and remained four years in England and Scotland,
lecturing in its behalf, and preaching nearly four hundred sermons. As a
result he raised ten thousand pounds. The donation was put in charge of
a Board of Trustees of which Lord Dartmouth was chairman. When it was
decided to remove the school from Lebanon, Ct., the efforts of Governor
Wentworth, of New Hampshire, secured its location at Hanover in that
state. It was christened after Lord Dartmouth--and the names of Occum,
Moore and Wheelock retired into the encyclopedias.
The Rev. Samson Occum died in 1779, while laboring among the Stockbridge
(N.Y.) Indians. Several hymns were written by this remarkable man, and
also "An Account of the Customs and Manners of the Montauks." The hymn,
"Awaked by Sinai's Awful Sound," set to the stentorian tune of "Ganges,"
was a tremendous sermon in itself to old-time congregations, and is
probably as indicative of the doctrines which converted its writer as of
the contemporary belief prominent in choir and pulpit.
Awaked by Sinai's awful sound,
My soul in bonds of guilt I found,
And knew not where to go,
Eternal truth did loud proclaim
"The sinner must be born again.
Or sink in endless woe."
When to the law I trembling fled,
It poured its curses on my head:
I no relief could find.
This fearful truth increased my pain,
"The sinner must be born again,"
And whelmed my troubled mind.
* * * * *
But while I thus in anguish lay,
Jesus of Nazareth passed that way;
I felt His pity move.
The sinner, once by justice slain,
Now by His grace is born again,
And sings eternal Love!
The rugged original has been so often and so variously altered and
"toned down," that only a few unusually accurate aged memories can
recall it. The hymn began going out of use fifty years ago, and is now
seldom seen.
The name "S. Chandler," attached to "Ganges," leaves the identity of the
composer in shadow. It is supposed he was born in 1760. The tune
appeared about 1790.
"WHERE NOW ARE THE HEBREW CHILDREN?"
This quaint old unison, repeating the above three times, followed by the
answer (thrice repeated) and climaxed with--
Safely in the Promised Land,
--was a favorite at ancient camp-meetings, and a good leader could keep
it going in a congregation or a happy group of vocalists, improvising a
new start-line after every stop until his memory or invention gave out.
They went up from the fiery furnace,
They went up from the fiery furnace,
They went up from the fiery furnace,
Safely to the Promised Land.
Sometimes it was--
Where now is the good Elijah?
--and,--
He went up in a chariot of fire;
--and again,--
Where now is the good old Daniel?
He went up from the den of lions;
--and so on, finally announcing--
By and by we'll go home for to meet him, [three times]
Safely in the Promised Land.
The enthusiasm excited by the swinging rhythm of the tune sometimes rose
to a passionate pitch, and it was seldom used in the more controlled
religious assemblies. If any attempt was ever made to print the song[22]
the singers had little need to read the music. Like the ancient runes,
it came into being by spontaneous generation, and lived in phonetic
tradition.
[Footnote 22: Mr. Hubert P. Main believes he once saw "The Hebrew
Children" in print in one of Horace Waters' editions of the _Sabbath
Bell_.]
A strange, wild paean of exultant song was one often heard from Peter
Cartwright, the muscular circuit-preacher. A remembered fragment shows
its quality:
Then my soul mounted higher
In a chariot of fire,
And the moon it was under my feet.
There is a tradition that he sang it over a stalwart blacksmith while
chastising him for an ungodly defiance and assault in the course of one
of his gospel journeys--and that the defeated blacksmith became his
friend and follower.
Peter Cartwright was born in Amherst county, Va., Sept. 1, 1785, and
died near Pleasant Plains, Sangamon county, Ill., Sept., 1872.
"THE EDEN OF LOVE."
This song, written early in the last century, by John J. Hicks, recalls
the name of the eccentric traveling evangelist, Lorenzo Dow, born in
Coventry, Ct., October 16, 1777; died in Washington, D.C., Feb. 2,
1834. It was the favorite hymn of his wife, the beloved Peggy Dow, and
has furnished the key-word of more than one devotional rhyme that has
uplifted the toiling souls of rural evangelists and their greenwood
congregations:
How sweet to reflect on the joys that await me
In yon blissful region, the haven of rest,
Where glorified spirits with welcome shall greet me,
And lead me to mansions prepared for the blest.
There, dwelling in light, and with glory enshrouded,
My happiness perfect, my mind's sky unclouded,
I'll bathe in the ocean of pleasure unbounded,
And range with delight through the Eden of love.
The words and tune were printed in _Leavitt's Christian Lyre_, 1830.
The same strain in the same metre is continued in the hymn of Rev. Wm.
Hunter, D.D., (1842) printed in his _Minstrel of Zion_ (1845). J.W.
Dadmun's _Melodian_ (1860) copied it, retaining, apparently, the
original music, with an added refrain of invitation, "Will you go? will
you go?"
We are bound for the land of the pure and the holy,
The home of the happy, the kingdom of love;
Ye wand'rers from God on the broad road of folly,
O say, will you go to the Eden above?
The old hymn-tune has a brisk out-door delivery, and is full of revival
fervor and the ozone of the pines.
"O CANA-AN, BRIGHT CANA-AN"
Was one of the stimulating melodies of the old-time awakenings, which
were simply airs, and were sung unisonously. "O Cana-an" (pronounced in
three syllables) was the chorus, the hymn-lines being either improvised
or picked up miscellaneously from memory, the interline, "I am bound for
the land of Cana-an," occurring between every two. John Wesley's "How
happy is the pilgrim's lot" was one of the snatched stanzas swept into
the current of the song. An example of the tune-leader's improvisations
to keep the hymn going was--
If you get there before I do,--
_I am bound for the land of Cana-an!_
Look out for me, I'm coming too--
_I am bound for the land of Cana-an!_
And then hymn and tune took possession of the assembly and rolled on in
a circle with--
O Cana-an, bright Cana-an!
I am bound for the land of Cana-an;
O Cana-an it is my hap-py home,
I am bound for the land of Cana-an
--till the voices came back to another starting-line and began again.
There was always a movement to the front when that tune was sung,
and--with all due abatement for superficial results in the sensation of
the moment--it is undeniable that many souls were truly born into the
kingdom of God under the sound of that rude woodland song.
Both its words and music are credited to Rev. John Maffit, who probably
wrote the piece about 1829.
"A CHARGE TO KEEP I HAVE."
This hymn of Charles Wesley was often heard at the camp grounds, from
the rows of tents in the morning while the good women prepared their
pancakes and coffee, and
_THE TUNE._
was invariably old "Kentucky," by Jeremiah Ingalls. Sung as a solo by a
sweet and spirited voice, it slightly resembled "Golden Hill," but
oftener its halting bars invited a more drawling style of execution
unworthy of a hymn that merits a tune like "St. Thomas."
Old "Kentucky" was not field music.
"CHRISTIANS, IF YOUR HEARTS ARE WARM."
Elder John Leland, born in Grafton, Mass., 1754, was not only a
strenuous personality in the Baptist denomination, but was well known
everywhere in New England, and, in fact, his preaching trip to
Washington (1801) with the "Cheshire Cheese" made his fame national. He
is spoken of as "the minister who wrote his own hymns"--a peculiarity in
which he imitated Watts and Doddridge. When some natural shrinking was
manifest in converts of his winter revivals, under his rigid rule of
immediate baptism, he wrote this hymn to fortify them:
Christians, if your hearts are warm,
Ice and cold can do no harm;
If by Jesus you are prized
Rise, believe and be baptized.
He found use for the hymn, too, in rallying church-members who staid
away from his meetings in bad weather. The "poetry" expressed what he
wanted to say--which, in his view, was sufficient apology for it. It was
sung in revival meetings like others that he wrote, and a few hymnbooks
now long obsolete contained it; but of Leland's hymns only one survives.
Gray-headed men and women remember being sung to sleep by their mothers
with that old-fashioned evening song to Amzi Chapin's[23] tune--
The day is past and gone,
The evening shades appear,
O may we all remember well
The night of death draws near;
--and with all its solemnity and other-worldness it is dear to
recollection, and its five stanzas are lovingly hunted up in the few
hymnals where it is found. Bradbury's "Braden," (_Baptist Praise Book_,
1873,) is one of its tunes.
[Footnote 23: Amzi Chapin has left, apparently, nothing more than the
record of his birth, March 2, 1768, and the memory of his tune. It
appeared as early as 1805.]
Elder Leland was a remarkable revival preacher, and his prayers--as was
said of Elder Jabez Swan's fifty or sixty years later--"brought heaven
and earth together." He traveled through the Eastern States as an
evangelist, and spent a season in Virginia in the same work. In 1801 he
revisited that region on a curious errand. The farmers of Cheshire,
Mass., where Leland was then a settled pastor, conceived the plan of
sending "the biggest cheese in America" to President Jefferson, and
Leland (who was a good democrat) offered to go to Washington on an
ox-team with it, and "preach all the way"--which he actually did.
The cheese weighed 1450 lbs.
Elder Leland died in North Adams, Mass., Jan. 14, 1844. Another of his
hymns, which deserved to live with his "Evening Song," seemed to be
answered in the brightness of his death-bed hope:
O when shall I see Jesus
And reign with Him above,
And from that flowing fountain
Drink everlasting love?
"AWAKE, MY SOUL, TO JOYFUL LAYS."
This glad hymn of Samuel Medley is his thanksgiving song, written soon
after his conversion. In the places of rural worship no lay of
Christian praise and gratitude was ever more heartily sung than this at
the testimony meetings.
Awake, my soul, to joyful lays,
And sing thy great Redeemer's praise;
He justly claims a song from me:
His loving-kindness, oh, how free!
Loving-kindness, loving-kindness,
His loving-kindness, oh, how free!
_THE TUNE,_
With its queer curvet in every second line, had no other name than
"Loving-Kindness," and was probably a camp-meeting melody in use for
some time before its publication. It is found in _Leavitt's Christian
Lyre_ as early as 1830. The name "William Caldwell" is all that is known
of its composer, though he is supposed to have lived in Tennessee.
"THE LORD INTO HIS GARDEN COMES."
Was a common old-time piece sure to be heard at every religious rally,
and every one present, saint and sinner, had it by heart, or at least
the chorus of it--
Amen, amen, my soul replies,
I'm bound to meet you in the skies,
And claim my mansion there, etc.
The anonymous[24] "Garden Hymn, as old, at least, as 1800," has nearly
passed out of reach, except by the long arm of the antiquary; but it
served its generation.
[Footnote 24: A "Rev." Mr. Campbell, author of "The Glorious Light of
Zion," "There is a Holy City," and "There is a Land of Pleasure," has
been sometimes credited with the origin of the Garden Hymn.]
Its vigorous tune is credited to Jeremiah Ingalls (1764-1838).
The Lord into His garden comes;
The spices yield a rich perfume,
The lilies grow and thrive,
The lilies grow and thrive.
Refreshing showers of grace divine
From Jesus flow to every vine,
Which makes the dead revive,
Which makes the dead revive.
"THE CHARIOT! THE CHARIOT!"
Henry Hart Milman, generally known as Dean Milman, was born in 1791, and
was educated at Oxford. In 1821 he was installed as university professor
of poetry at Oxford, and it was while filling this position that he
wrote this celebrated hymn, under the title of "The Last Day." It is not
only a hymn, but a poem--a sublime ode that recalls, in a different
movement, the tones of the "Dies Irae."
Dean Milman (of St Paul's), besides his many striking poems and learned
historical works, wrote at least twelve hymns, among which are--
Ride on, ride on in majesty,
O help us Lord; each hour of need
Thy heavenly succor give,
When our heads are bowed with woe,
--which last may have been written soon after he laid three of his
children in one grave, in the north aisle of Westminster Abbey. He
lived a laborious and useful life of seventy-seven years, dying Sept.
24, 1868.
There were times in the old revivals when the silver clarion of the
"Chariot Hymn" must needs replace the ruder blast of Occum in old
"Ganges" and sinners unmoved by the invisible God of Horeb be made to
behold Him--in a vision of the "Last Day."
The Chariot! the Chariot! its wheels roll in fire
When the Lord cometh down in the pomp of His ire,
Lo, self-moving, it drives on its pathway of cloud,
And the heavens with the burden of Godhead are bowed.
* * * * *
The Judgment! the Judgment! the thrones are all set,
Where the Lamb and the white-vested elders are met;
There all flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord,
And the doom of eternity hangs on His word.
The name "Williams" or "J. Williams" is attached to various editions of
the trumpet-like tune, but so far no guide book gives us location, date
or sketch of the composer.
"COME, MY BRETHREN."
Another of the "unstudied" revival hymns of invitation.
Come, my brethren, let us try
For a little season
Every burden to lay by,
Come and let us reason.
What is this that casts you down.
What is this that grieves you?
Speak and let your wants be known;
Speaking may relieve you.
This colloquial rhyme was apt to be started by some good brother or
sister in one of the chilly pauses of a prayer-meeting. The air (there
was never anything more to it) with a range of only a fifth, slurred the
last syllable of every second line, giving the quaint effect of a bent
note, and altogether the music was as homely as the verse. Both are
anonymous. But the little chant sometimes served its purpose wonderfully
well.
"BRETHREN, WHILE WE SOJOURN HERE."
This hymn was always welcome in the cottage meetings as well as in the
larger greenwood assemblies. It was written by Rev. Joseph Swain, about
1783.
Brethren, while we sojourn here
Fight we must, but should not fear.
Foes we have, but we've a Friend,
One who loves us to the end;
Forward then with courage go;
Long we shall not dwell below,
Soon the joyful news will come,
"Child, your Father calls, 'Come home.'"
The tune was sometimes "Pleyel's Hymn," but oftener it was sung to a
melody now generally forgotten of much the same movement but slurred in
peculiarly sweet and tender turns. The cadence of the last tune gave
the refrain line a melting effect:
Child, your Father calls, "Come home."
Some of the spirit of this old tune (in the few hymnals where the hymn
is now printed) is preserved in Geo. Kingsley's "Messiah" which
accompanies the words, but the modulations are wanting.
Joseph Swain was born in Birmingham, Eng. in 1761. Bred among mechanics,
he was early apprenticed to the engraver's trade, but he was a boy of
poetic temperament and fond of writing verses. After the spiritual
change which brought a new purpose into his life, he was baptized by Dr.
Rippon and studied for the ministry. At the age of about twenty-five, he
was settled over the Baptist church in Walworth, where he remained till
his death, April 16, 1796.
For more than a century his hymns have lived and been loved in all the
English-speaking world. Among those still in use are--
How sweet, how heavenly is the sight,
Pilgrims we are to Canaan bound,
O Thou in whose presence my soul takes delight.
"HAPPY DAY."
O happy day that fixed my choice.
--_Doddridge_.
O how happy are they who the Saviour obey.
--_Charles Wesley_.
These were voices as sure to be heard in converts' meetings as the
leader's prayer or text, the former sung inevitably to Rimbault's tune,
"Happy Day," and the latter to a "Western Melody" quite as closely akin
to Wesley's words.
Edward Francis Rimbault, born at Soho, Eng., June 13, 1816, was at
sixteen years of age organist at the Soho Swiss Church, and became a
skilled though not a prolific composer. He once received--and
declined--the offer of an appointment as professor of music in Harvard
College. Died of a lingering illness Sept, 26, 1876.
"COME, HOLY SPIRIT, HEAVENLY DOVE."
--_Watts_.
This was the immortal song-litany that fitted almost anywhere into every
service. The Presbyterians and Congregationalists sang it in Tansur's
"St. Martins," the Baptists in William Jones' "Stephens" and the
Methodists in Maxim's "Turner" (which had the most music), but the hymn
went about as well with one as with another.
The Rev. William Jones (1726-1800) an English rector, and Abraham Maxim
of Buckfield, Me., (1773-1829) contributed quite a liberal share of the
"continental" tunes popular in the latter part of the 18th century.
Maxim was eccentric, but the tradition that an unfortunate affair of the
heart once drove him into the woods to make away with himself, but a
bird on the roof of a logger's hut, making plaintive sounds,
interrupted him, and he sat down and wrote the tune "Hallowell," on a
strip of white birch bark, is more likely legendary. The following
words, said to have inspired his minor tune, are still set to it in the
old collections:
As on some lonely building's top
The sparrow makes her moan,
Far from the tents of joy and hope
I sit and grieve alone.[25]
[Footnote 25: Versified by Nahum Tate from Ps. 102:7.]
Maxim was fond of the minor mode, but his minors, like "Hallowell," "New
Durham," etc., are things of the past. His major chorals and fugues,
such as "Portland," "Buckfield," and "Turner" had in them the spirit of
healthier melody and longer life. He published at least two collections,
_The Oriental Harmony_, in 1802, and _The Northern Harmony_, in 1805.
William Tansur (Tans-ur), author of "St. Martins" (1669-1783), was an
organist, composer, compiler, and theoretical writer. He was born at
Barnes, Surrey, Eng., (according to one account,) and died at St.
Neot's.
"COME, THOU FOUNT OF EVERY BLESSING."
This hymn of Rev. Robert Robinson was almost always heard in the tune of
"Nettleton," composed by John Wyeth, about 1812. The more wavy melody of
"Sicily" (or "Sicilian Hymn") sometimes carried the verses, but never
with the same sympathetic unction. The sing-song movement and accent of
old "Nettleton" made it the country favorite.
Robert Robinson, born in Norfolk, Eng., Sept. 27, 1735, was a poor boy,
left fatherless at eight years of age, and apprenticed to a barber, but
was converted by the preaching of Whitefield and studied till he
obtained a good education, and was ordained to the Methodist ministry.
He is supposed to have written his well-known hymn in 1758. A certain
unsteadiness of mind, however, caused him to revise his religious
beliefs too often for his spiritual health or enjoyment, and after
preaching as a Methodist, a Baptist, and an Independent, he finally
became a Socinian. On a stage-coach journey, when a lady
fellow-passenger began singing "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing," to
relieve the monotony of the ride, he said to her, "Madam, I am the
unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago; and I would give a
thousand worlds, if I had them, if I could feel as I felt then."
Robinson died June 9, 1790.
John Wyeth was born in Cambridge, Mass., 1792, and died at Harrisburg,
Pa., 1858. He was a musician and publisher, and issued a Music Book,
_Wyeth's Repository of Sacred Music_.
"A POOR WAYFARING MAN OF GRIEF,"
Written by James Montgomery, Dec., 1826, was a hymn of tide and headway
in George Coles' tune of "Duane St.," with a step that made every heart
beat time. The four picturesque eight-line stanzas made a practical
sermon in verse and song from Matt. 25:35, telling how--
A poor wayfaring man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer nay.
I had no power to ask his name,
Whither he went or whence he came,
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love, I knew not why;
--and in the second and third stanzas the narrator relates how he
entertained him, and this was the sequel--
Then in a moment to my view
The stranger started from disguise
The token in His hand I knew;
My Saviour stood before my eyes.
When once that song was started, every tongue took it up, (and it was
strange if every foot did not count the measure,) and the coldest
kindled with gospel warmth as the story swept on.[26]
[Footnote 26: Montgomery's poem, "The Stranger," has seven stanzas. The
full dramatic effect of their connection could only be produced by a set
piece.]
"WHEN FOR ETERNAL WORLDS I STEER."
It was no solitary experience for hearers in a house of prayer where the
famous Elder Swan held the pulpit, to feel a climactic thrill at the
sudden breaking out of the eccentric orator with this song in the very
middle of his sermon--
When for eternal worlds I steer,
And seas are calm and skies are clear,
And faith in lively exercise,
And distant hills of Canaan rise,
My soul for joy then claps her wings,
And loud her lovely sonnet sings,
"Vain world, adieu!"
With cheerful hope her eyes explore
Each landmark on the distant shore,
The trees of life, the pastures green,
The golden streets, the crystal stream,
Again for joy, she claps her wings,
And loud her lovely sonnet sings,
"Vain world, adieu!"
Elder Jabez Swan was born in Stonington, Ct., Feb. 23, 1800, and died
1884. He was a tireless worker as a pastor (long in New London, Ct.,)
and a still harder toiler in the field as an evangelist and as a helper
eagerly called for in revivals; and, through all, he was as happy as a
boy in vacation. He was unlearned in the technics of the schools, but
always eloquent and armed with ready wit; unpolished, but poetical as a
Hebrew prophet and as terrible in his treatment of sin. Scoffers and
"hoodlums" who interrupted him in his meetings never interrupted him but
once.
[Illustration: James Montgomery]
The more important and canonical hymnals and praise-books had no place
for "Sonnet," as the bugle-like air to this hymn was called. Rev.
Jonathan Aldrich, about 1860, harmonized it in his _Sacred Lyre_, but
this, and the few other old vestry and field manuals that contain it,
were compiled before it became the fashion to date and authenticate
hymns and tunes. In this case both are anonymous. Another (and probably
earlier) tune sung to the same words is credited to "S. Arnold," and
appears to have been composed about 1790.
"I'M A PILGRIM, AND I'M A STRANGER."
This hymn still lives--and is likely to live, at least in collections
that print revival music. Mrs. Mary Stanley (Bunce) Dana, born in
Beaufort, S.C., Feb. 15, 1810, wrote it while living in a northern
state, where her husband died. By the name Dana she is known in
hymnology, though she afterwards became Mrs. Shindler. The tune
identified with the hymn, "I'm a Pilgrim," is untraced, save that it is
said to be an "Italian Air," and that its original title was "Buono
Notte" (good night).
No other hymn better expresses the outreaching of ardent faith. Its very
repetitions emphasize and sweeten the vision of longed-for fruition.
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night,
Do not detain me, for I am going.
* * * * *
There the sunbeams are ever shining,
O my longing heart, my longing heart is there.
* * * * *
Of that country to which I'm going,
My Redeemer, my Redeemer is the light.
There is no sorrow, nor any sighing,
Nor any sin there, nor any dying,
I'm a pilgrim, etc.
The same devout poetess also wrote (1840) the once popular consolatory
hymn,--
O sing to me of heaven
When I'm about to die,
--sung to the familiar tune by Rev. E.W. Dunbar; also to a melody
composed 1854 by Dr. William Miller.
The line was first written--
When _I am called_ to die,
--in the author's copy. The hymn (occasioned by the death of a pious
friend) was written Jan. 15, 1840.
Mrs. Dana (Shindler) died in Texas, Feb. 8, 1883.
"JOYFULLY, JOYFULLY ONWARD I MOVE."
The maker of this hymn has been confounded with the maker of its
tune--partly, perhaps, from the fact that the real composer of the tune
also wrote hymns. The author of the words was the Rev. William Hunter,
D.D., an Irish-American, and a Methodist minister. He was born near
Ballymoney, County Antrim, Ire., May, 1811, and was brought to America
when a child six years old. He received his education in the common
schools and at Madison College, Hamilton, N.Y., (now Madison
University), and was successively a pastor, editor and Hebrew professor.
Besides his work in these different callings, he wrote many helpful
hymns--in all one hundred and twenty-five--of which "Joyfully,
Joyfully," dated 1842, is the best. It began originally with the line--
Friends fondly cherished have passed on before,
--and the line,--
Home to the land of delight I will go.
--was written,--
Home to the land of bright spirits I'll go.
Dr. Hunter died in Ohio, 1877.
_THE TUNE._
Rev. Abraham Dow Merrill, the author of the music to this triumphal
death-song, was born in Salem, N.H., 1796, and died April 29, 1878. He
also was a Methodist minister, and is still everywhere remembered by the
denomination to which he belonged in New Hampshire and Vermont. He rode
over these states mingling in revival scenes many years. His picture
bears a close resemblance to that of Washington, and he was somewhat
famous for this resemblance. His work was everywhere blessed, and he
left an imperishable influence in New England. The tune, linked with Dr.
Hunter's hymn, formed the favorite melody which has been the dying song
of many who learned to sing it amid the old revival scenes:
Death, with thy weapons of war lay me low;
Strike, king of terrors; I fear not the blow.
Jesus has broken the bars of the tomb,
Joyfully, joyfully haste to thy home.
"TIS THE OLD SHIP OF ZION, HALLELUJAH!"
This may be found, vocalized with full harmony, in the _American
Vocalist_. With all the parts together (more or less) it must have made
a vociferous song-service, but the hymn was oftener sung simply in
soprano unison; and there was sound enough in the single melody to
satisfy the most zealous.
All her passengers will land on the bright eternal shore,
O, glory hallelujah!
She has landed many thousands, and will land as many more,
O, glory hallelujah!
Both hymn and tune have lost their creators' names, and, like many
another "voice crying in the wilderness," they have left no record of
their beginning of days.
"MY BROTHER, I WISH YOU WELL."
My brother, I wish you well,
My brother, I wish you well;
When my Lord calls I trust you will
Be mentioned in the Promised Land.
Echoes that remain to us of those fervid and affectionate, as well as
resolute and vehement, expressions of religious life as sung in the
early revivals of New England, in parts of the South, and especially in
the Middle West, are suggestive of spontaneous melody forest-born, and
as unconscious of scale, clef or tempo as the song of a bird. The above
"hand-shaking" ditty at the altar gatherings apparently took its tune
self-made, inspired in its first singer's soul by the feeling of the
moment--and the strain was so simple that the convert could join in at
once and chant--
When my Lord comes I trust _I shall_
--through all the loving rotations of the crude hymn-tune. Such
song-births of spiritual enthusiasm are beyond enumeration--and it is
useless to hunt for author or composer. Under the momentum of a
wrestling hour or a common rapture of experience, counterpoint was
unthought of, and the same notes for every voice lifted pleading and
praise in monophonic impromptu. The refrains--
O how I love Jesus,
O the Lamb, the Lamb, the loving Lamb,
I'm going home to die no more,
Pilgrims we are to Canaan's land,
O turn ye, O turn ye, for why will you die,
Come to Jesus, come to Jesus, just now,
--each at the sound of its first syllable brought its own music to every
singer's tongue, and all--male and female--were sopranos together. This
habit in singing those rude liturgies of faith and fellowship was
recognized by the editors of the _Revivalist_, and to a multitude of
them space was given only for the printed melody, and of this sometimes
only the three or four initial bars. The tunes were the church's rural
field-tones that everybody knew.
Culture smiles at this unclassic hymnody of long ago, but its history
should disarm criticism. To wanderers its quaint music and "pedestrian"
verse were threshold call and door-way welcome into the church of the
living God. Even in the flaming days of the Second Advent following, in
1842-3, they awoke in many hardened hearts the spiritual glow that never
dies. The delusion passed away, but the grace remained.
The church--and the world--owe a long debt to the old evangelistic
refrains that rang through the sixty years before the Civil War, some of
them flavored with tuneful piety of a remoter time. They preached
righteousness, and won souls that sermons could not reach. They opened
heaven to thousands who are now rejoicing there.
CHAPTER VIII.
SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS.
_SHEPHERD OF TENDER YOUTH._
[Greek: Stomion polon adaon]
We are assured by repeated references in the patristic writings that the
primitive years of the Christian Church were not only years of suffering
but years of song. That the despised and often persecuted "Nazarenes,"
scattered in little colonies throughout the Roman Empire, did not forget
to mingle tones of praise and rejoicing with their prayers could readily
be believed from the much-quoted letter of a pagan lawyer, written about
as long after Jesus' death, as from now back to the death of John Quincy
Adams--the letter of Pliny the younger to the Emperor Trajan, in which
he reports the Christians at their meetings singing "hymns to Christ as
to a god."
Those disciples who spoke Greek seem to have been especially tuneful,
and their land of poets was doubtless the cradle of Christian hymnody.
Believers taught their songs to their children, and it is as certain
that the oldest Sunday-school hymn was written somewhere in the classic
East as that the Book of Revelation was written on the Isle of Patmos.
The one above indicated was found in an appendix to the _Tutor_, a book
composed by Titus Flavius Clemens of Alexandria, a Christian philosopher
and instructor whose active life began late in the second century. It
follows a treatise on Jesus as the Great Teacher, and, though his own
words elsewhere imply a more ancient origin of the poem, it is always
called "Clement's Hymn." The line quoted above is the first of an
English version by the late Rev. Henry Martyn Dexter, D.D. It does not
profess to be a translation, but aims to transfer to our common tongue
the spirit and leading thoughts of the original.
Shepherd of tender youth,
Guiding in love and truth
Through devious ways;
Christ, our triumphant King,
We come Thy name to sing,
Hither our children bring
To shout Thy praise.
The last stanza of Dr. Dexter's version represents the sacred song
spirit of both the earliest and the latest Christian centuries:
So now, and till we die
Sound we Thy praises high,
And joyful sing;
Infants, and the glad throng
Who to Thy church belong
Unite to swell the song
To Christ our King.
While they give us the sentiment and the religious tone of the old hymn,
these verses, however, recognize the extreme difficulty of anything like
verbal fidelity in translating a Greek hymn, and in this instance there
are metaphors to avoid as being strange to modern taste. The first
stanza, literally rendered and construed, is as follows:
Bridle of untaught foals,
Wing of unwandering birds,
Helm and Girdle of babes,
Shepherd of royal lambs!
Assemble Thy simple children
To praise holily,
To hymn guilelessly
With innocent mouths
Christ, the Guide of children.
Figures like--
Catching the chaste fishes,
Heavenly milk, etc.
--are necessarily avoided in making good English of the lines, and the
profusion of adoring epithets in the ancient poem (no less than
twenty-one different titles of Christ) would embarrass a modern song.
Dr. Dexter might have chosen an easier metre for his version, if (which
is improbable) he intended it to be sung, since a tune written to sixes
and fours takes naturally a more decided lyrical movement and emphasis
than the hymn reveals in his stanzas, though the second and fifth
possess much of the hymn quality and would sound well in Giardini's
"Italian Hymn."
More nearly a translation, and more in the cantabile style, is the
version of a Scotch Presbyterian minister, Rev. Hamilton M. Macgill,
D.D., two of whose stanzas are these:
Thyself, Lord, be the Bridle
These wayward wills to stay;
Be Thine the Wing unwand'ring,
To speed their upward way.
* * * * *
Let them with songs adoring
Their artless homage bring
To Christ the Lord, and crown Him
The children's Guide and King.
The Dexter version is set to Monk's slow harmony of "St. Ambrose" in the
_Plymouth Hymnal_ (Ed. Dr. Lyman Abbott, 1894) without the writer's
name--which is curious, inasmuch as the hymn was published in the
_Congregationalist_ in 1849, in _Hedge and Huntington's_ (Unitarian)
_Hymn-book_ in 1853, in the _Hymnal of the Presbyterian Church_ in 1866,
and in Dr. Schaff's _Christ in Song_ in 1869.
Clement died about A.D. 220.
Rev. Henry Martyn Dexter, D.D., for twenty-three years the editor of the
_Congregationalist_, was born in Plymouth, Mass., Aug. 13, 1821. He was
a graduate of Yale (1840) and Andover Divinity School (1844), a
well-known antiquarian writer and church historian. Died Nov. 13, 1890.
"HOW HAPPY IS THE CHILD WHO HEARS."
This hymn was quite commonly heard in Sunday-schools during the
eighteen-thirties and forties, and, though retained in few modern
collections, its Sabbath echo lingers in the memory of the living
generation. It was written by Michael Bruce, born at Kinneswood,
Kinross-shire, Scotland, March 27, 1746. He was the son of a weaver, but
obtained a good education, taught school, and studied for the ministry.
He died, however, while in preparation for his expected work, July 5,
1767, at the age of twenty-one years, three months and eight days.
Young Bruce wrote hymns, and several poems, but another person wore the
honors of his work. John Logan, who was his literary executor,
appropriated the youthful poet's Mss. verses, and the hymn above
indicated--as well as the beautiful poem, "To the Cuckoo,"[27] still a
classic in English literature,--bore the name of Logan for more than a
hundred years. In _Julian's Dictionary of Hymnology_ is told at length
the story of the inquiry and discussion which finally exposed the long
fraud upon the fame of the rising genius who sank, like Henry Kirke
White, in his morning of promise.
[Footnote 27:
Hail, beauteous stranger of the wood,
Attendant on the Spring;
Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat,
And woods thy welcome ring.]
_THE TUNE._
Old "Balerma" was so long the musical mouth-piece of the pious
boy-schoolmaster's verses that the two became one expression, and one
could not be named without suggesting the other.
"Balerma" (Palermo) was ages away in style and sound from the later type
of Sunday-school tunes, resembling rather one of Palestrina's chorals
than the tripping melodies that took its place; but in its day juvenile
voices enjoyed it, and it suited very well the grave but winning words.
How happy is the child who hears
Instruction's warning voice,
And who celestial Wisdom makes
His early, only choice!
For she hath treasures greater far
Than East and West unfold,
And her rewards more precious are
Than all their stores of gold.
She guides the young with innocence
In pleasure's path to tread,
A crown of glory she bestows
Upon the hoary head.
Robert Simpson, author of the old tune,[28] was a Scottish composer of
psalmody; born, about 1722, in Glasgow; and died, in Greenock, June,
1838.
[Footnote 28: The tune was evidently reduced from the still older
"Sardius" (or "Autumn")--_Hubert P. Main_.]
"O DO NOT BE DISCOURAGED."
Written about 1803, by the Rev. John A. Grenade, born in 1770; died
1806.
O do not be discouraged, }
For Jesus is your Friend; } _bis_
He will give you grace to conquer,
And keep you to the end.
Fight on, ye little soldiers, }
The battle you shall win, } _bis_
For the Saviour is your Captain,
And He has vanquished sin.
And when the conflict's over, }
Before Him you shall stand, } _bis_
You shall sing His praise forever
In Canaan's happy land.
_THE TUNE._
The hymn was made popular thirty or more years ago in a musical
arrangement by Hubert P. Main, with a chorus,--
I'm glad I'm in this army,
And I'll battle for the school.
Children took to the little song with a keen relish, and put their whole
souls--and bodies--into it.
"LITTLE TRAVELLERS ZIONWARD"
Belongs to a generation long past. Its writer was an architect by
occupation, and a man whose piety equalled his industry. He was born in
London 1791, and his name was James Edmeston. He loved to compose
religious verses--so well, in fact, that he is said to have prepared a
new piece every week for Sunday morning devotions in his family and in
this way accumulated a collection which he published and called
_Cottager's Hymns_. Besides these he is credited with a hundred
Sunday-school hymns.
Little travellers Zionward,
Each one entering into rest
In the Kingdom of your Lord,
In the mansions of the blest,
There to welcome Jesus waits,
Gives the crown His followers win,
Lift your heads, ye golden gates,
Let the little travellers in.
The original tune is lost--and the hymn is vanishing with it; but the
felicity of its rhyme and rhythm show how easily it adapted itself to
music.
"I'M BUT A STRANGER HERE."
The simple beauty of this hymn, and the sympathetic sweetness of its
tune made children love to sing it, and it found its way into a few
Sunday-school collections, though not composed for such use.
A young Congregational minister. Rev. Thomas Rawson Taylor, wrote it on
the approach of his early end. He was born at Osset, near Wakefield,
Yorkshire, Eng., May 9, 1807, and studied in Bradford, where his father
had taken charge of a large church, and at Manchester Academy and
Airesdale College. Sensible of a growing ailment that might shorten his
days, he hastened to the work on which his heart was set, preaching in
surrounding towns and villages while a student, and finally quitting
college to be ordained to his sacred profession. He was installed as
pastor of Howard St. Chapel, Sheffield, July, 1830, when only
twenty-three. But in less than three years his strength failed, and he
went back to Bradford, where he occasionally preached for his father,
when able to do so, during his last days. He died there March 15, 1835.
Taylor was a brave and lovely Christian--and his hymn is as sweet as his
life.
I'm but a stranger here,
Heaven is my home;
Earth is a desert drear,
Heaven is my home.
Dangers and sorrows stand
Round me on every hand;
Heaven is my Fatherland--
Heaven is my home.
What though the tempest rage,
Heaven is my home;
Short is my pilgrimage,
Heaven is my home.
And time's wild, wintry blast
Soon will be overpast;
I shall reach home at last--
Heaven is my home.
In his last attempt to preach, young Taylor uttered the words, "I want
to die like a soldier, sword in hand." On the evening of the same
Sabbath day he breathed his last. His words were memorable, and
Montgomery, who loved and admired the man, made them the text of a poem,
part of which is the familiar hymn "Servant of God, well done."[29]
[Footnote 29: See page 498]
_THE TUNE._
Sir Arthur Sullivan put the words into classic expression, but, to
American ears at least, the tune of "Oak," by Lowell Mason, is the
hymn's true sister. It was composed in 1854.
"DEAR JESUS, EVER AT MY SIDE."
One of Frederick William Faber's sweet and simple lyrics. It voices that
temper and spirit in the human heart which the Saviour first looks for
and loves best. None better than Faber could feel and utter the real
artlessness of Christian love and faith.
Dear Jesus, ever at my side,
How loving must Thou be
To leave Thy home in heaven to guard
A sinful child like me.
Thy beautiful and shining face
I see not, tho' so near;
The sweetness of Thy soft low voice
I am too deaf to hear.
I cannot feel Thee touch my hand
With pressure light and mild,
To check me as my mother did
When I was but a child;
But I have felt Thee in my thoughts
Fighting with sin for me,
And when my heart loves God I know
The sweetness is from Thee.
[Illustration: Fanny J. Crosby (Mrs. Van Alstyne)]
_THE TUNE._
"Audientes" by Sir Arthur Sullivan is a gentle, emotional piece,
rendering the first quatrain of each stanza in E flat unison, and the
second in C harmony.
"TIS RELIGION THAT CAN GIVE."
This simple rhyme, which has been sung perhaps in every Sunday-school in
England and the United States, is from a small English book by Mary
Masters. In the preface to the work, we read, "The author of the
following poems never read a treatise of rhetoric or an art of poetry,
nor was ever taught her English grammar. Her education rose no higher
than the spelling-book or her writing-master,"
'Tis religion that can give
Sweetest pleasure while we live;
'Tis religion can supply
Solid comfort when we die.
After death its joys shall be
Lasting as eternity.
Save the two sentences about herself, quoted above, there is no
biography of the writer. That she was good is taken for granted.
The tune-sister of the little hymn is as scant of date or history as
itself. No. 422 points it out in _The Revivalist_, where the name and
initial seem to ascribe the authorship to Horace Waters.[30]
[Footnote 30: From his _Sabbath Bell_. Horace Waters, a prominent
Baptist layman, was born in Jefferson, Lincoln Co., Me., Nov. 1, 1812,
and died in New York City, April 22, 1893. He was a piano-dealer and
publisher.]
"THERE IS A HAPPY LAND FAR, FAR AWAY"
This child's hymn was written by a lover of children, Mr. Andrew Young,
head master of Niddrey St. School, Edinburgh, and subsequently English
instructor at Madras College, E.I. He was born April 23, 1807, and died
Nov. 30, 1899, and long before the end of the century which his
life-time so nearly covered his little carol had become one of the
universal hymns.
_THE TUNE._
A Hindoo air or natural chanson, that may have been hummed in a pagan
temple in the hearing of Mr. Young, was the basis of the little melody
since made familiar to millions of prattling tongues.
Such running tone-rhythms create themselves in the instinct of the ruder
nations and tribes, and even the South African savages have their
incantations with the provincial "clicks" that mark the singers' time.
With an ear for native chirrups and trills, the author of our pretty
infant-school song succeeded in capturing one, and making a Christian
tune of it.
The musician, Samuel Sebastian Wesley, sometime in the eighteen-forties,
tried to substitute another melody for the lines, but "There is a happy
land" needs its own birth-music.
"I HAVE A FATHER IN THE PROMISED LAND."
Another cazonet for the infant class. Instead of a hymn, however, it is
only a refrain, and--like the ring-chant of the "Hebrew Children," and
even more simple--owes its only variety to the change of one word. The
third and fourth lines,--
My father calls me, I must go
To meet Him in the Promised Land,
--take their cue from the first, which may sing,--
I have a Saviour----
I have a mother----
I have a brother----
--and so on ad libitum. But the little ones love every sound and
syllable of the lisping song, for it is plain and pleasing, and when a
pinafore school grows restless nothing will sooner charm them into quiet
than to chime its innocent unison.
Both words and tune are nameless and storyless.
"I THINK WHEN I READ THAT SWEET STORY"
While riding in a stage-coach, after a visit to a mission school for
poor children, this hymn came to the mind of Mrs. Jemima Thompson Luke,
of Islington, England. It speaks its own purpose plainly enough, to
awaken religious feeling in young hearts, and guide and sanctify the
natural childlike interest in the sweetest incident of the Saviour's
life.
I think when I read that sweet story of old
When Jesus was here among men,
How He called little children as lambs to His fold,
I should like to have been with them then.
I wish that His hands had been laid on my head,
And I had been placed on His knee,
And that I might have seen His kind look when He said,
"Let the little ones come unto me."
This is not poetry, but it phrases a wish in a child's own way, to be
melodized and fixed in a child's reverent and sensitive memory.
Mrs. Luke was born at Colebrook Terrace, near London, Aug. 19, 1813. She
was an accomplished and benevolent lady who did much for the education
and welfare of the poor. Her hymn--of five stanzas--was first sung in a
village school at Poundford Park, and was not published until 1841.
_THE TUNE._
It is interesting, not to say curious, testimony to the vital quality of
this meek production that so many composers have set it to music, or
that successive hymn-book editors have kept it, and printed it to so
many different harmonies. All the chorals that carry it have
substantially the same movement--for the spondaic accent of the long
lines is compulsory--but their offerings sing "to one clear harp in
divers tones."
The appearance of the words in one hymnal with Sir William Davenant's
air (full scored) to Moore's love-song, "Believe me, if all those
endearing young charms," now known as the tune of "Fair Harvard," is
rather startling at first, but the adoption is quite in keeping with the
policy of Luther and Wesley.
"St. Kevin" written to it forty years ago by John Henry Cornell,
organist of St. Paul's, New York City, is sweet and sympathetic.
The newest church collection (1905) gives the beautiful air and harmony
of "Athens" to the hymn, and notes the music as a "Greek Melody."
But the nameless English tune, of uncertain authorship[31] that
accompanies the words in the smaller old manuals, and which delighted
Sunday-schools for a generation, is still the favorite in the memory of
thousands, and may be the very music first written.
[Footnote 31: Harmonized by Hubert P. Main.]
"WE SPEAK OF THE REALMS OF THE BLEST."
Mrs. Elizabeth Mills, wife of the Hon. Thomas Mills, M.P., was born at
Stoke Newington, Eng., 1805. She was one of the brief voices that sing
one song and die. This hymn was the only note of her minstrelsy, and it
has outlived her by more than three-quarters of a century. She wrote it
about three weeks before her decease in Finsbury Place, London, April
21, 1839, at the age of twenty-four.
We speak of the land of the blest,
A country so bright and so fair,
And oft are its glories confest,
But what must it be to be there!
* * * * *
We speak of its freedom from sin,
From sorrow, temptation and care,
From trials without and within,
But what must it be to be there!
_THE TUNE._
The hymn, like several of the Gospel hymns besides, was carried into the
Sunday-schools by its music. Mr. Stebbins' popular duet-and-chorus is
fluent and easily learned and rendered by rote; and while it captures
the ear and compels the voice of the youngest, it expresses both the
pathos and the exaltation of the words.
George Coles Stebbins was born in East Carleton, Orleans Co., N.Y., Feb.
26, 1846. Educated at common school, and an academy in Albany, he turned
his attention to music and studied in Rochester, Chicago, and Boston. It
was in Chicago that his musical career began, while chorister at the
First Baptist Church; and while holding the same position at Clarendon
St. Church, Boston, (1874-6), he entered on a course of evangelistic
work with D.L. Moody as gospel singer and composer. He was co-editor
with Sankey and McGranahan of _Gospel Hymns_.
"ONLY REMEMBERED."
This hymn, beginning originally with the lines,--
Up and away like the dew of the morning,
Soaring from earth to its home in the sun,
--has been repeatedly altered since it left Dr. Bonar's hands. Besides
the change of metaphors, the first personal pronoun singular is changed
to the plural. There was strength, and a natural vivacity in--
So let _me_ steal away gently and lovingly,
Only remembered for what _I_ have done.
As at present sung the first stanza reads--,
Fading away like the stars of the morning
Losing their light in the glorious sun,
Thus would _we_ pass from the earth and its toiling
Only remembered for what _we_ have done.
The idea voiced in the refrain is true and beautiful, and the very
euphony of its words helps to enforce its meaning and make the song
pleasant and suggestive for young and old. It has passed into popular
quotation, and become almost a proverb.
_THE TUNE._
The tune (in _Gospel Hymns No. 6_) is Mr. Sankey's.
Ira David Sankey was born in Edinburgh, Lawrence Co., Pa., Aug. 28,
1840. He united with the Methodist Church at the age of fifteen, and
became choir leader, Sunday-school superintendent and president of the
Y.M.C.A., all in his native town. Hearing Philip Phillips sing impressed
him deeply, when a young man, with the power of a gifted solo vocalist
over assembled multitudes, but he did not fully realize his own
capability till Dwight L. Moody heard his remarkable voice and
convinced him of his divine mission to be a gospel singer.
The success of his revival tours with Mr. Moody in America and England
is history.
Mr. Sankey has compiled at least five singing books, and has written the
_Story of the Gospel Hymns_. Until overtaken by blindness, in his later
years he frequently appeared as a lecturer on sacred music. The
manuscript of his story of the _Gospel Hymns_ was destroyed by accident,
but, undismayed by the ruin of his work, and the loss of his eye-sight,
like Sir Isaac Newton and Thomas Carlyle, he began his task again. With
the help of an amanuensis the book was restored and, in 1905, given to
the public. (See page 258.)
"SAVIOUR, LIKE A SHEPHERD LEAD US."
Mrs. Dorothy Ann Thrupp, of Paddington Green, London, the author of this
hymn, was born June 20, 1799, and died, in London, Dec. 14, 1847. Her
hymns first appeared in Mrs. Herbert Mayo's _Selection of Poetry and
Hymns for the Use of Infant and Juvenile Schools_, (1838).
We are Thine, do Thou befriend us,
Be the Guardian of our way:
Keep Thy flock, from sin defend us,
Seek us when we go astray;
Blessed Jesus,
Hear, O hear us when we pray.
The tune everywhere accepted and loved is W.B. Bradbury's; written in
1856.
"YIELD NOT TO TEMPTATION"
A much used and valued hymn, with a captivating tune and chorus for
young assemblies. Both words and music are by H.R. Palmer, composed in
1868.
Yield not to temptation,
For yielding is sin;
Each vict'ry will help you
Some other to win.
Fight manfully onward,
Dark passions subdue;
Look ever to Jesus,
He will carry you through.
Horatio Richmond Palmer was born in Sherburne, N.Y., April 26. 1834, of
a musical family, and sang alto in his father's choir when only nine. He
studied music unremittingly, and taught music at fifteen. Brought up in
a Christian home, his religious life began in his youth, and he
consecrated his art to the good of man and the glory of God.
He became well-known as a composer of sacred music, and as a
publisher--the sales of his _Song Queen_ amounting to 200,000 copies. As
a leader of musical conventions and in the Church Choral Union, his
influence in elevating the standard of song-worship has been widely
felt.
"THERE ARE LONELY HEARTS TO CHERISH."
"While the days are going by" is the refrain of the song, and the line
by which it is recognized. The hymn or poem was written by George
Cooper. He was born in New York City, May 14, 1840--a writer of poems
and magazine articles,--composed "While the days are going by" in 1870.
There are lonely hearts to cherish
While the days are going by.
There are weary souls who perish
While the days are going by.
Up! then, trusty hearts and true,
Though the day comes, night comes, too:
Oh, the good we all may do
While the days are going by!
There are few more practical and always-timely verses than this
three-stanza poem.
_THE TUNE._
A very musical tune, with spirited chorus, (in _Gospel Hymns_) bears the
name of the refrain, and was composed by Mr. Sankey.
A sweet and quieter harmony (uncredited) is mated with the hymn in the
old _Baptist Praise Book_ (p. 507) and this was long the fixture to the
words, in both Sunday-school and week-day school song-books.
"JESUS THE WATER OF LIFE WILL GIVE."
This Sunday-school lyric is the work of Fanny J. Crosby (Mrs. Van
Alstyne). Like her other and greater hymn, "Jesus keep me near the
Cross," (noted on p. 156,) it reveals the habitual attitude of the pious
author's mind, and the simple earnestness of her own faith as well as
her desire to win others.
Jesus the water of life will give
Freely, freely, freely;
Jesus the water of life will give
Freely to those who love Him.
The Spirit and the Bride say "Come
Freely, freely, freely.
And he that is thirsty let him come
And drink the water of life."
Full chorus,--
The Fountain of life is flowing,
Flowing, freely flowing;
The Fountain of life is flowing,
Is flowing for you and for me.
_THE TUNE._
The hymn must be sung as it was _made_ to be sung, and the composer
being many years _en rapport_ with the writer, knew how to put all her
metrical rhythms into sweet sound. The tune--in Mr. Bradbury's _Fresh
Laurels_ (1867)--is one of his sympathetic interpretations, and, with
the duet sung by two of the best singers of the middle class
Sunday-school girls, is a melodious and impressive piece.
"WHEN HE COMETH, WHEN HE COMETH."
The Rev. W.O. Cushing, with the beautiful thought in Malachi 3:17
singing in his soul, composed this favorite Sunday-school hymn, which
has gone round the world.
When He cometh, when He cometh
To make up His jewels,
All the jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.
Like the stars of the morning,
His bright brow adorning
They shall shine in their beauty
Bright gems for His crown.
He will gather, He will gather
The gems for His Kingdom,
All the pure ones, all the bright ones,
His loved and His own.
Like the stars, etc.
Little children, little children
Who love their Redeemer,
Are the jewels, precious jewels
His loved and His own,
Like the stars, etc.
Rev. William Orcutt Cushing of Hingham, Mass., born Dec. 31, 1823, wrote
this little hymn when a young man (1856), probably with no idea of
achieving a literary performance. But it rings; and even if it is a
"ringing of changes" on pretty syllables, that is not all. There is a
thought in it that _sings_. Its glory came to it, however, when it got
its tune--and he must have had a subconsciousness of the tune he wanted
when he made the lines for his Sunday-school. He died Oct. 19, 1902.
_THE TUNE._
The composer of the music for the "Jewel Hymn"[32] was George F. Root,
then living in Reading, Mass.
[Footnote 32: Comparison of the "Jewel Hymn" tune with the old glee of
"Johnny Schmoker" gives color to the assertion that Mr. Root caught up
and adapted a popular ditty for his Christian melody--as was so often
done in Wales, and in the Lutheran and Wesleyan reformations. He
baptized the comic fugue, and promoted it from the vaudeville stage to
the Sunday School.]
A minister returning from Europe on an English steamer visited the
steerage, and after some friendly talk proposed a singing service--it
something could be started that "everybody" knew--for there were
hundreds of emigrants there from nearly every part of Europe.
"It will have to be an American tune, then," said the steerage-master;
"try 'His jewels.'"
The minister struck out at once with the melody and words,--
When He cometh, when He cometh,
--and scores of the poor half-fare multitude joined voices with him.
Many probably recognized the music of the old glee, and some had heard
the sweet air played in the church-steeples at home. Other voices chimed
in, male and female, catching the air, and sometimes the words--they
were so easy and so many times repeated--and the volume of song
increased, till the singing minister stood in the midst of an
international concert, the most novel that he ever led.
He tried other songs in similar visits during the rest of the voyage
with some success, but the "Jewel Hymn" was the favorite; and by the
time port was in sight the whole crowd of emigrants had it by heart.
The steamer landed at Quebec, and when the trains, filled with the new
arrivals, rolled away, the song was swelling from nearly every car,--
When He cometh, when He cometh,
To make up His jewels.
The composer of the tune--with all the patriotic and sacred
master-pieces standing to his credit--never reaped a richer triumph than
he shared with his poet-partner that day, when "Precious Jewels" came
back to them from over the sea. More than this, there was missionary joy
for them both that their tuneful work had done something to hallow the
homes of alien settlers with an American Christian psalm.
George Frederick Root, Doctor of Music, was born in Sheffield, Mass.,
1820, eldest of a family of eight children, and spent his youth on a
farm. His genius for music drew him to Boston, where he became a pupil
of Lowell Mason, and soon advanced so far as to teach music himself and
lead the choir in Park St. church. Afterwards he went to New York as
director of music in Dr. Deems's Church of the Strangers. In 1852,
after a year's absence and study in Europe, he returned to New York,
and founded the Normal Musical Institute. In 1860, he removed to Chicago
where he spent the remainder of his life writing and publishing music.
He died Aug. 6, 1895, in Maine.
In the truly popular sense Dr. Root was the best-known American
composer; not excepting Stephen C. Foster. Root's "Hazel Dell," "There's
Music in the Air," and "Rosalie the Prairie Flower" were universal
tunes--(words by Fanny Crosby,)--as also his music to Henry Washburn's
"Vacant Chair." The songs in his cantata, "The Haymakers," were sung in
the shops and factories everywhere, and his war-time music, in such
melodies as "Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom" and "Tramp, Tramp,
Tramp, the Boys are Marching" took the country by storm.
"SCATTER SEEDS OF KINDNESS."
This amiable and tuneful poem, suggested by Rom. 12:10, is from the pen
of Mary Louise Riley (Mrs. Albert Smith) of New York City. She was born
in Brighton, Monroe Co., N.Y. May 27, 1843.
Let us gather up the sunbeams
Lying all along our path;
Let us keep the wheat and roses
Casting out the thorns and chaff.
CHORUS.
Then scatter seeds of kindness (_ter_)
For our reaping by and by.
Silas Jones Vail, the tune-writer, for this hymn, was born Oct. 1818,
and died May 20, 1883. For years he worked at the hatter's trade, with
Beebe on Broadway, N.Y. and afterwards in an establishment of his own.
His taste and talent led him into musical connections, and from time to
time, after relinquishing his trade, he was with Horace Waters, Philip
Phillips, W.B. Bradbury, and F.J. Smith, the piano dealer. He was a
choir leader and a good composer.
"BY COOL SILOAM'S SHADY RILL."
This hymn of Bp. Heber inculcates the same lesson as that in the stanzas
of Michael Bruce before noted, with added emphasis for the young on the
briefness of time and opportunity even for them.
How fair the lily grows,
--is answered by--
The lily must decay,
--but, owing to the sweetness of the favorite melody, it was never a
saddening hymn for children.
_THE TUNE._
Though George Kingsley's "Heber" has in some books done service for the
Bishop's lines, "Siloam," easy-flowing and finely harmonized, is knit
to the words as no other tune can be. It was composed by Isaac Baker
Woodbury on shipboard during a storm at sea. A stronger illustration of
tranquil thought in terrible tumult was never drawn.
"O Galilee, Sweet Galilee," whose history has been given at the end of
chapter six, was not only often sung in Sunday-schools, but chimed (in
the cities) on steeple-bells--nor is it by any means forgotten today--on
the Sabbath and in social singing assemblies. Like "Precious Jewels," it
has been, in many places, taken up by street boys with a relish, and
often displaced the play-house ditties in the lips of little newsboys
and bootblacks during a leisure hour or a happy mood.
"I AM SO GLAD"
This lively little melody is still a welcome choice to many a lady
teacher of fluttering five-year-olds, when both vocal indulgence and
good gospel are needed for the prattlers in her class. It has been as
widely sung in Scotland as in America. Mr. Philip P. Bliss, hearing one
day the words of the familiar chorus--
O, how I love Jesus,
--suddenly thought to himself,--
"I have sung long enough of my poor love to Christ, and now I will sing
of His love for me." Under the inspiration of this thought, he wrote--
I am so glad that our Father in heaven
Tells of His love in the book He has given
Wonderful things in the Bible I see,
This is the dearest--that Jesus loves me.
Both words and music are by Mr. Bliss.
The history of modern Sunday-school hymnody--or much of it--is so nearly
identified with that of the _Gospel Hymns_ that other selections like
the last, which might be appropriate here, may be considered in a later
chapter, where that eventful series of sacred songs receives special
notice.
CHAPTER IX.
PATRIOTIC HYMNS.
The ethnic anthologies growing out of love of country are a mingled
literature of filial and religious piety, ranging from war-like paeans to
lyric prayers. They become the cherished inheritance of a nation, and,
once fixed in the common memory and common heart, the people rarely let
them die. The "Songs of the Fathers" have perennial breath, and in every
generation--
The green woods of their native land
Shall whisper in the strain;
The voices of their household band
Shall sweetly speak again.
--_Felicia Hemans_.
ULTIMA THULE.
American pride has often gloried in Seneca's "Vision of the West," more
than eighteen hundred years ago.
Venient annis
Saecula seris, quibus Oceanus
Vincula rerum laxet, et ingens
Pateat tellus, Typhisque novos
Detegat orbes, nec sit terris
Ultima Thule.
A time will come in future ages far
When Ocean will his circling bounds unbar.
And, opening vaster to the Pilot's hand,
New worlds shall rise, where mightier kingdoms are,
Nor Thule longer be the utmost land.
This poetic forecast, of which Washington Irving wrote "the predictions
of the ancient oracles were rarely so unequivocal," is part of the
"chorus" at the end of the second act of Seneca's "Medea," written near
the date of St. Paul's first Epistle to the Thessalonians.
Seneca, the celebrated Roman (Stoic) philosopher, was born at or very
near the time of our Saviour's birth. There are legends of his
acquaintance with Paul, at Rome, but though he wrote able and quotable
treatises _On Consolation_, _On Providence_, _On Calmness of Soul_, and
_On the Blessed Life_, there is no direct evidence that the savor of
Christian faith ever qualified his works or his personal principles. He
was a man of grand ideas and inspirations, but he was a time server and
a flatterer of the Emperor Nero, who, nevertheless, caused his death
when he had no further use for him.
His compulsory suicide occurred A.D. 65, the year in which St. Paul is
supposed to have suffered martyrdom.
"THE BREAKING WAVES DASHED HIGH."
Sitting at the tea-table one evening, near a century ago, Mrs. Hemans
read an old account of the "Landing of the Pilgrims," and was inspired
to write this poem, which became a favorite in America--like herself,
and all her other works.
The ballad is inaccurate in details, but presents the spirit of the
scene with true poet insight. Mr. James T. Fields, the noted Boston
publisher, visited the lady in her old age, and received an autograph
copy of the poem, which is seen in Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth, Mass.
The breaking waves dashed high, on a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky, their giant branches tossed,
And the heavy night hung dark, the hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moored their bark on the wild New England
shore.
Not as the conqueror comes, they, the true-hearted, came;
Not with the roll of stirring drums, and the trumpet that sings
of fame;
Not as the flying come, in silence and in fear,--
_They_ shook the depths of the desert's gloom with their hymns of
lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang, and the stars heard, and the sea!
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang to the anthem of the
free!
The ocean eagle soared from his nest by the white waves' foam,
And the rocking pines of the forest roared,--this was their welcome
home!
There were men with hoary hair amidst that pilgrim band,--
Why had _they_ come to wither there, away from their childhood's
land?
There was woman's fearless eye, lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow, serenely high, and the fiery heart of
youth.
What sought they thus afar? bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas? the spoils of war?--They sought a faith's pure
shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground, the soil where first they trod;
They left unstained what there they found,--freedom to worship God!
Felicia Dorothea Browne (Mrs. Hemans) was born in Liverpool, Eng., 1766,
and died 1845.
_THE TUNE._
The original tune is not now accessible. It was composed by Mrs. Mary E.
(Browne) Arkwright, Mrs. Hemans' sister, and published in England about
1835. But the words have been sung in this country to "Silver St.," a
choral not entirely forgotten, credited to an English composer, Isaac
Smith, born, in London, about 1735, and died there in 1800.
"WESTWARD THE COURSE OF EMPIRE."
Usually misquoted "Westward the _Star_ of Empire," etc. This poem of
Bishop Berkeley possesses no lyrical quality but, like the ancient
Roman's words, partakes of the prophetic spirit, and has always been
dear to the American heart by reason of the above line. It seems to
formulate the "manifest destiny" of a great colonizing race that has
already absorbed a continent, and extended its sway across the Pacific
ocean.
Not such as Europe breeds in her decay;
Such as she bred when fresh and young,
When heavenly flame did animate her clay,
By future poets shall be sung.
Westward the course of empire takes its way;
The four first acts already past,
The fifth shall close the drama of the day:
Time's noblest offspring is the last.
George Berkeley was born March 12, 1684, and educated at Trinity
College, Dublin. A remarkable student, he became a remarkable man, as
priest, prelate, and philosopher. High honors awaited him at home, but
the missionary passion seized him. Inheriting a small fortune, he sailed
to the West, intending to evangelize and educate the Indians of the
"Summer Islands," but the ship lost her course, and landed him at
Newport, R.I., instead of the Bermudas. Here he was warmly welcomed, but
was disappointed in his plans and hopes of founding a native college by
the failure of friends in England to forward funds, and after a
residence of six years he returned home. He died at Cloyne, Ireland,
1753.
The house which Bishop Berkeley built is still shown (or was until very
recently) at Newport after one hundred and seventy-eight years. He wrote
the _Principles of Human Knowledge_, the _Minute Philosopher_, and many
other works of celebrity in their time, and a scholarship in Yale bears
his name; but he is best loved in this country for his _Ode to America_.
Pope in his list of great men ascribes--
To Berkeley every virtue under heaven.
"SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL."
One would scarcely guess that this bravura hymn of victory and "Come, ye
disconsolate," were written by the same person, but both are by Thomas
Moore. The song has all the vigor and vivacity of his "Harp That Once
Through Tara's Halls," without its pathos. The Irish poet chose the song
of Miriam instead of the song of Deborah doubtless because the sentiment
and strain of the first of these two great female patriots lent
themselves more musically to his lyric verse--and his poem is certainly
martial enough to convey the spirit of both.
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
Jehovah hath triumphed, His people are free!
Sing, for the pride of the tyrant is broken;
His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave--
How vain was their boasting, the Lord hath but spoken,
And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.
_THE TUNE._
Of all the different composers to whose music Moore's "sacred songs"
were sung--Beethoven, Mozart, Stevenson, and the rest--Avison seems to
be the only one whose name and tune have clung to the poet's words; and
we have the man and the melody sent to us, as it were, by the lyrist
himself. The tune is now rarely sung except at church festivals and
village entertainments, but the life and clamor of the scene at the Red
Sea are in it, and it is something more than a mere musical curiosity.
Its style, however, is antiquated--with its timbrel beat and its
canorous harmony and "coda fortis"--and modern choirs have little use in
religious service for the sonata written for viols and horns.
It was Moore's splendid hymn that gave it vogue in England and Ireland,
and sent it across the sea to find itself in the house of its friends
with the psalmody of Billings and Swan. Moore was the man of all men to
take a fancy to it and make language to its string-and-trumpet concert.
He was a musician himself, and equally able to adapt a tune and to
create one. As a festival performance, replete with patriotic noise, let
Avison's old "Sound the Timbrel" live.
Charles Avison was born at Newcastle-on-Tyne, 1710. He studied in Italy,
wrote works on music, and composed sonatas and concertos for stringed
orchestras. For many years he was organist of St. Nicholas' Kirk in his
native town.
The tune to "Sound the Loud Timbrel" is a chorus from one of his longer
compositions. He died in 1770.
"THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS."
This is the only one of Moore's patriotic "Irish Melodies" that lives
wherever sweet tones are loved and poetic feeling finds answering
hearts. The exquisite sadness of its music and its text is strangely
captivating, and its untold story beckons from its lines.
Tara was the ancient home of the Irish kings. King Dermid, who had
apostatized from the faith of St. Patrick and his followers, in A.D.,
554, violated the Christian right of sanctuary by taking an escaped
prisoner from the altar of refuge in Temple Ruadan (Tipperary) and
putting him to death. The patron priest and his clergy marched to Tara
and solemnly pronounced a curse upon the King. Not long afterwards
Dermid was assassinated, and superstition shunned the place "as a castle
under ban." The last human resident of "Tara's Hall" was the King's
bard, who lingered there, forsaken and ostracized, till he starved to
death. Years later one daring visitor found his skeleton and his broken
harp.
Moore utilized this story of tragic pathos as a figure in his song for
"fallen Erin" lamenting her lost royalty--under a curse that had lasted
thirteen hundred years.
The harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er,
And hearts that once beat high for praise
Now feel that pulse no more.
No one can read the words without "thinking" the tune. It is supposed
that Moore composed them both.
THE MARSEILLAISE HYMN.
Ye sons of France, awake to glory!
Hark! hark! what millions bid you rise!
The "Marseillaise Hymn" so long supposed to be the musical as well as
verbal composition of Roget de Lisle, an army engineer, was proved to be
only his words set to an air in the "Credo" of a German mass, which was
the work of one Holzman in 1726. De Lisle was known to be a poet and
musician as well as a soldier, and, as he is said to have played or sung
at times in the churches and convents, it is probable that he found and
copied the manuscript of Holzman's melody. His haste to rush his fiery
"Hymn" before the public in the fever of the Revolution allowed him no
time to make his own music, and he adapted the German's notes to his
words and launched the song in the streets of Strasburg. It was first
sung in Paris by a band of chanters from Marseilles, and, like the
trumpets blown around Jericho, it shattered the walls of the French
monarchy to their foundations.
The "Marseillaise Hymn" is mentioned here for its patriotic birth and
associations. An attempt to make a religious use of it is recorded in
the Fourth Chapter.
ODE ON SCIENCE.
This is a "patriotic hymn," though a queer production with a queer name,
considering its contents; and its author was no intimate of the Muses.
Liberty is supposed to be somehow the corollary of learning, or vice
versa--whichever the reader thinks.
The morning sun shines from the East
And spreads his glories to the West.
* * * * *
So Science spreads her lucid ray
O'er lands that long in darkness lay;
She visits fair Columbia,
And sets her sons among the stars.
Fair Freedom, her attendant, waits, etc.
_THE TUNE_
Was the really notable part of this old-time "Ode," the favorite of
village assemblies, and the inevitable practice-piece for amateur
violinists. The author of the crude symphony was Deacon Janaziah (or
Jazariah) Summer, of Taunton, Mass., who prepared it--music and probably
words--for the semi-centennial of Simeon Dagget's Academy in 1798. The
"Ode" was subsequently published in Philadelphia, and also in Albany. It
was a song of the people, and sang itself through the country for fifty
or sixty years, always culminating in the swift crescendo chorus and
repeat--
The British yoke and Gallic chain
Were urged upon our necks in vain;
All haughty tyrants we disdain,
And shout "Long live America!"
The average patriot did not mind it if "Columbi-_ay_" and "Ameri-_kay_"
were not exactly classic orthoepy.
"HAIL COLUMBIA."
This was written (1798) by Judge Joseph Hopkinson, born, in
Philadelphia, 1770, and died there, 1843. He wrote it for a friend in
that city who was a theatre singer, and wanted a song for Independence
Day. The music (to which it is still sung) was "The President's March,"
by a composer named Fyles, near the end of the 18th century.
There is nothing hymn-like in the words, which are largely a
glorification of Gen. Washington, but the tune, a concerted piece better
for band than voices, has the drum-and-anvil chorus quality suitable for
vociferous mass singing--and a zealous Salvation Army corps on field
nights could even fit a processional song to it with gospel words.
OLD "CHESTER."
Let tyrants shake their iron rod,
And slavery clank her galling chains:
We'll fear them not; we trust in God;
New England's God forever reigns.
Old "Chester," both words and tune the work of William Billings, is
another of the provincial freedom songs of the Revolutionary period, and
of the days when the Republic was young. Billings was a zealous patriot,
and (says a writer in Moore's _Cyclopedia of Music_) "one secret, no
doubt, of the vast popularity his works obtained was the patriotic ardor
they breathed. The words above quoted are an example, and 'Chester,' it
is said, was frequently heard from every fife in the New England ranks.
The spirit of the Revolution was also manifest in his 'Lamentation over
Boston,' his 'Retrospect,' his 'Independence,' his 'Columbia,' and many
other pieces."
William Billings was born, in Boston, Oct. 7, 1746. He was a man of
little education, but his genius for music spurred him to study the
tuneful art, and enabled him to learn all that could be learned without
a master. He began to make tunes and publish them, and his first book,
the _New England Psalm-singer_ was a curiosity of youthful crudity and
confidence, but in considerable numbers it was sold, and sung--and
laughed at. He went on studying and composing, and compiled another
work, which was so much of an improvement that it got the name of
_Billings' Best_. A third singing-book followed, and finally a fourth
entitled the _Psalm Singer's Amusement_, both of which were popular in
their day. His "Majesty" has tremendous capabilities of sound, and its
movement is fully up to the requirements of Nahum Tate's verses,--
And on the wings of mighty winds
Came flying all abroad.
William Billings died in 1800, and his remains lie in an unmarked grave
in the old "Granary" Burying Ground in the city of his birth.
National feeling has taken maturer speech and finer melody, but it was
these ruder voices that set the pitch. They were sung with native pride
and affection at fireside vespers and rural feasts with the adopted
songs of Burns and Moore and Mrs. Hemans, and, like the lays of Scotland
and Provence, they breathed the flavor of the country air and soil, and
taught the generation of home-born minstrelsy that gave us the
Hutchinson family, Ossian E. Dodge, Covert with his "Sword of Bunker
Hill," and Philip Phillips, the "Singing Pilgrim."
THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER.
Near the close of the last war with England, Francis Scott Key, of
Baltimore, the author of this splendid national hymn, was detained under
guard on the British flag-ship at the mouth of the Petapsco, where he
had gone under a flag of truce to procure the release of a captured
friend, Dr. William Beanes of Upper Marlboro, Md.
The enemy's fleet was preparing to bombard Fort McHenry, and Mr. Key's
return with his friend was forbidden lest their plans should be
disclosed. Forced to stay and witness the attack on his country's flag,
he walked the deck through the whole night of the bombardment until the
break of day showed the brave standard still flying at full mast over
the fort. Relieved of his patriotic anxiety, he pencilled the exultant
lines and chorus of his song on the back of a letter, and, as soon as he
was released, carried it to the city, where within twenty-four hours it
was printed on flyers, circulated and sung in the streets to the air of
"Anacreon in Heaven"--which has been the "Star Spangled Banner" tune
ever since.
O say, can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleam |
