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OR 



HYMNS THAT HAVE A HISTORY. 



AN ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN OF HYMNS OF PERSONAL RELIGIOUS 

EXPERIENCE. 



BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH. 




AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 




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[^•*7j 



EntbrbDi according to Act of G)ngress, in the year 1875, by 

THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



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Preface page 7 

/. TONES IN THE CHURCH. 



M 



All hail the Power of Jesus' Name." Perronet 13 

"A Mighty Fortress is our God." Luther 15 

" Praise God, from whom all Blessings flow," Ken 17 

"Glory to Thee, my God, this night" Ken 22 

" Rock of Ages, cleft for me." Toplady 24 

"A Debtor to Mercy alone." Toplady 29 

" Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah." Williams 30 

" Lord of the Sabbath, hear our Vows." Doddridge 34 

** Come, ye Sinners, poor and needy." Hart 35 

•• Blest be the Tie that binds." Fawcett 37 

" From Greenland's Icy Mountains." Heber 40 

"Mighty God, while Angels bless Thee." Robinson 42 

" Far from the World, O Lord, I flee." Cowper 44 

" God moves in a Mysterious Way." Cowper - 47 

" I love to steal a while away." Brown 48 

" When All thy Mercies, O my God." Addison 50 

" O thou, my Soul, forget no more." Krishnu-Pal 52 

"Jesus, my All, to Heaven is gone." Cennick - 54 

" Father, whatever of Earthly Bliss." Steele 58 

"Jesus, and shall it ever be?" Grigg 60 

"Vital Spark of Heavenly Flame," Pope 62 



4 CONTENTS, 

II. HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 

King Robert's Hymn 67 

St. Fulbcrt of Chartrcs* II>'mn 69 

Hymn of Gustavus Adolphus 70 

St Francis Xavier*s Hymn * — 71 

Thomas k Kempis' Hymn «.-—•-- 73 

Sir Walter Raleigh's Hymn 78 

Gerhardt's Hymn of Trust 80 

Klopstock's Hymn -- - 86 

Samuel Rutherford - 92 

Addison's Traveller's Hymn 98 

Count Zinzendorfs Hymn 99 

Lady Huntingdon's Hymn - - loi 

John Wesley's Hymn in the Itinerancy 104 

Charles Wesley's Watch-night Hymns 107 

" " H>Tnn in Time of Trouble no 

Langhorn's "It is told me I must die" 114 



-•- 



///. SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 

"Lord, dismiss us with thy Blessing." Shirley 123 

"Peace, troubled Soul." Shirley 126 

" Sweet the moments rich in blessing." Shirley 127 

" Watchman, tell us of the Night" Bowring 128 

"While Thee I seek, protecting Power." Miss Williams 129 

" Hark, the Voice of Love and Mercy." Evans 131 

" When, marshalled on the nightly Plain." White - 132 

" While with ceaseless Course the Sun." Newton 134 

" On the^Mountain-top appearing." Kelly 135 

"If I must die, oh, let me die." Beddome 138 

"Awake, my Soul, in joyful Lajs." Medley - 139 

IV. ORIGIN OF FA VORITE SUNDA Y^SCHOOL HYMNS. 

" Shepherd of tender Youth." Anon. 145 

" There is a Happy Land." Young 146 

"I think when I read that Sweet Story of Old." Mrs. Luke 146 



I 



CONTENTS. 



5 



* We speak of the Realms of the Blest." Mrs. Miles 148 

" Now I lay me down to sleep." Watts 148 

" Golden Head so lowly bending." Putnam's Magazine 148 

"*Now I lay,*— repeat it, darling." Lutheran Monthly 149 

" I want to be an Angel." Mrs. Gill iqo 

"Tis Religion that can give." Miss Martin 152 

"Stand up for Jesus." Duffield 152 

"Daily, daily sing the Praises." Gould 154 

"Just as I am." Elliott ^ iqc 

" By cool Siloam's shady Rill." Heber 155 

"O Mother dear, Jerusalem." Baker --.. 156 

"Jerusalem, my happy Home" 158 

" Heaven is my Home." Taylor 159 

" God calling yet." Tersteegen 162 

"Little Travellers Zionward." Edmeston 165 

"Land ahead, its Fruits are waving" 166 

" He Icadeth me ! oh, blessed Thought." Gilmore 167 

"I am so glad that our Father in Heaven." Bliss 169 

" I gave my Life for thee." Bliss - 169 



-•- 



V, SEAMEN'S HYMNS, 

" Fierce was the wild Billow." Anatolius - 173 

"Jesus, Lover of my Soul." Charles Wesley - 174 

" When through the torn Sail." Heber 175 

" *Listed in the Cause of Sin." Charles Wesley 176 

" I hear the Tempest's awful Sound." John Newton 177 

♦ 

VL INDIAN HYMNS. 

"In de dark wood, no Indian nigh." Apes - 181 

"When shall we three meet again" 182 

"t*arted many a toil-spent year " 183 

♦ ■ ■ ■ 

VIL RECENT HYMN-WRITERS AND THEIR HYMNS. 

Frederick William Faber 187 

Rev. John Kcble 190 

1* 



6 CONTENTS. 

Horatius Bonar, D. D. 194 

Charlotte Elliott 197 

Sarah Flower Adams 201 

Phoebe Gary : 205 

Ray Palmer, D.D. 209 

Rev. Henry Francis Lyte - 211 

Rev. John Henry Newman * 215 

^ 

VIIL AUTO-BIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 

Dr. Watt's Personal Hymns 219 

Charles Wesley's Hymns for Special Occasions 225 

James Montgomery's Hymns of Personal Experience 227 

Thomas Olivers' "The God of Abram praise " 234 

The Hymns of Madame Guyon 237 



-•- 



IX. FAMIUAR HYMNS, A UTHORS, DA TES, ETC 245 




PREFACE. 



In preparing the " Story of the Hymns" the writer does 
not aim, like Miller, in his " Songs and Singers of the Church," 
to give a complete or nearly complete history of the origin of 
all hymns in common use, but only of such as are the result of 
some peculiar circumstance or special religious experience. 
The hymns that the church best loves, and most carefully 
preserves, are, for the most part, the fruit of eventful lives, 
luminous religious experiences, severe discipline, or unusual 
sorrow. It is the writer's object to associate such hymns with 
the peculiar circumstances that inspired them, and to explain 
the personal and local allusions that enter largely into their 
composition. The volume might properly have been called 
"The Origin of Hymns of Religious Experience." 

Confidence adds largely to the enjoyment of what we read, 
and nothing more tends to increase our confidence in any 
literary composition than to know that the author wrote as he 
felt, and teaches what he himself has experienced. Nearly 
all works, written merely for effect, are ephemeral. The 
tinsel of fancy and mere sentiment fades, while words coined 
from the heart's pure gold live with the ages: 

The sacred writers were careful to preserve the history of 



8 PREFACE. 

nearly every psalm, from that of Miriam, when Pharaoh and 
his host were destroyed, to those of Mary in the presence of 
Elizabeth and Simeon in the Temple. We better understand 
the awful and shadowy grandeur of the ninetieth psalm, when 
it is explained to us that it is the " prayer which Moses the 
man of God prayed" after the people had sinned in the wilder- 
ness. We can enter into the spirit of the eighth psalm, which 
describes fhe sublimity of the celestial scenery at night, with a 
clearer insight when we are told that it was written by the 
shepherd of Bethlehem, after he had proved himself victorious 
over the melancholy of Saul at home, and over the champion 
of the Philistines in the field. It interests us to know that the 
first psalm was written for the jubilant assembly of King Asa, 
that the forty-fifth connects itself with the splendors of the 
reign of Jehoshaphat, that the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth 
celebrate the removal of the ark after the conquest of Jerusa- 
lem, and that the thirtieth was written for the dedication of 
the House of David. So also in regard to the psalms that 
belong to the reign of Hezekiah, and refer to the destruction 
of the Assyrians ; and the great Hebrew choral, or one hundred 
and seventh psalm, sung at the Feast of the Tabernacles. 

Poets are the song-birds of human nature, the interpreters 
ot human feeling ; and they only are worthy of the name, in 
whose interpretations we find our own unexpressed thoughts 
and feelings and experiences. The sacred poet, like the Levite 
of old, is still a minister in the temple ; he still kindles the 
altar fires of holy feeling, and from his own spiritual indwell- 
ing, insight, and inner communings, he puts into language for 



^ 



PREFACE, 9 

us those emotions, dispositions, desires, that our hearts recog- 
nize and yet our lips fail of uttering. He takes us to moun- 
tain tops of feeling, into valleys of shadow, and leads by 
streams of refreshing, and into solitudes of restfulness and 
calm. But to understand him best, we must know the ways 
by which he himself has been led, and have the assurance that 
it is a trusty guide with whom we enter into holy companion- 
ship. 

The essential marks of a good hymn, remarks Earl Nelson, 
are, "i. It must be full of Scripture. 2. Full of individual 
life and reality. 3. It must have the acceptance of the use 
of the church. 4. It must be pure in its English, in its rhyme 
and its rhythm." He adds: "A hymn coming from a deep 
communing with God, and from the special experience of the 
human heart, at once fulfils, and only can fulfil, the tests I 
have ventured to lay down." 

The number of hymns in the language is very large. Sir 
Roundell Palmer estimates that the hymns of Watts, Browne, 
Doddridge, Charles Wesley, Newton, Beddome, Kelly, and 
Montgomery, number 6,500; and Mr. Sedgwick, an English 
writer on hymns, published in 186 1 a catalogue of 618 authors 
who are represented in various English hymn-books. 

Of these hymns, only the fittest survive, and the most help- 
ful stand the test of time. It usually happens that the most 
painstaking and elaborate productions of the Christian lyrist 
• are the first to perish, while some minor expression of sincere 
religious feeling is the surest to live, and take its place 
among the recognized lyrics of the church. 



lo PREFACE. 

The larger portion of the hymns whose history is given in 
this volume is familiar to all who have had the training of the 
Christian church. The religious experiences out of which 
these hymns grew are not as familiar to those who have not 
made a special study of the subject That the book may lead 
some to better know the guides of their spiritual journey, whose 
experiences almost daily mingle with their own in the sweet 
sympathies of song, is the devout wish of the author. 




^ 



I. TONES IN THE CHURCH. 



1. ALL HAIL THE POWER OF JESUS' NAME, 

2. A MIGHTY FORTRESS IS OUR GOD, 

3. PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW. 

4. KEN'S MORNING HYMN 

5. KENS EVENING HYMN 

6. ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME I 

7. FULL ASSURANCE, 

8. GUIDE MEy O THOU GREAT JEHOVAH, 

9. LORD OF THE SABBATH, HEAR OUR VOWS. 

0. COME, YE SINNERS, POOR AND NEEDY, 

1. BLEST BE THE TIE THA T BINDS, 

2. FROM GREENLAND'S ICY MOUNTAINS, 

3. MIGHTY GOD, WHILE ANGELS BLESS THEE. 

4. FAR FROM THE WORLD, 

5. GOD MOVES IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY. 

6. I LOVE TO STEAL A WHILE AWAY, 

7. WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD. 

8. O THOU, MY SOUL, FORGET NO MORE, 

9. JESUS, MY ALL, TO HE A VEN IS GONE, 

20. FATHER, WHATEVER OF EARTHLY BLISS. 

21. JESUS, AND SHALL IT EVER BE! 

22. VITAL SPARK OF HE A VENL Y FLAME, 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 



''ALL HAIL THE POWER OF JESUS' NAME,^ 

Edward Perronet, the author of the most inspiring 
and triumphant hymn in the English language, is a bene- 
factor whose history is but little known. He was a man 
of great humility of character, but was sustained amid 
many vicissitudes of life by an all-victorious faith. 

He was the son of Rev. Vincent Perronet, an excel- 
lent English clergyman of the old school, who was vicar 
of Shoreham for fifty years. He left the established 
church in early life, and became a Methodist. He was a 
bosom friend of Rev. Charles Wesley, in whose diary 
mention of him may be found, beginning about the year 
1750. He was one of the preachers appointed under the 
patronage of the Countess of Huntingdon, and, adding 
an ardent zeal to a humble and sympathetic nature, his 
labors in the ministry were for a time attended with 
marked success. But Perronet was at heart an oppo- 
nent of the union of church and state, and at last pro- 
duced an anonymous poem entitled the " Mitre," a keen 

satire on the national establishment. This hostility 

2 



14 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

brought him under the displeasure of the countess. He 
severed his connection with her society, and became the 
pastor of a small congregation of Dissenters, to whom 
he preached till his death, which took place in January, 
1792. 

His death was triumphant, and is an evidence of the 
sincerity of the piety which inspired his rapturous hymn. 
His majestic faith seemed to lift his soul above the world, 
and to antedate that coronation day when the cherubic 
hosts and the redeemed shall 

" Bring forth the royal diadem, 
And crown Him Lord of all !" 

His dying testimony was : 

" Glory to God in the height of his divinity ! 
Glory to God in the depth of his humanity ! 
Glory to God in his all-sufl5ciency ! 
Unto his hands I commend my spirit." 

The following is the original version of Perronet's 
jubilant hymn, which has become one of the grandest as 
well as the most familiar tones of the church : 

All hail the power of Jesus' name ! 

Let angels prostrate fall ; 
Bring forth the royal diadem, 

To crown him Lord of all. 

Crown him, ye martyrs of your God, 

Who from his altar call ; 
Extol the Stem of Jesse's rod, 

And crown him Lord of all. 

Hail him, ye heirs of David's line. 

Whom David "Lord" did call; 
The God incarnate ! Man divine ! 

And crown him Lord of all ! 



THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 15 

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. 



"^ MIGHTY FORTRESS IS OUR GOD:' 

S. T. Coleridge says that Martin Luther did as much 
for the Reformation by his hymns, as by his translation 
of the Bible. The hymns of Luther were indeed the 
battle-cry and trumpet-call of the Reformation: "The 
children learned them in the cottage, and martyrs sung 
them on the scaffold." 

The hymn beginning 

" Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott," 

is the grandest of Luther's hymns, and 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 



1 6 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

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, when his affectionate coadju- 
tor Melancthon was at Weimar with his banished friends 
Jonas and Creuziger, he heard a little maid singing this 
psalm in the street, and said, ' Sing on, my little girl, you 
little know whom you comfort* The first line of this 
hymn is inscribed on Luther's tomb at Wittenburg." 

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. 

Did we in our own strength confide, 

Our stri\dng would be losing — 
Were not the right man on our side. 

The man of God's own choosing. 
Dost ask, who that may be ? 
Christ Jesus, it is he ; 
His name Lord Sabaoth, 
Our God and Saviour both. 

He shall our souls deliver. 

And though this world, with devils filled, 

Should threaten to undo us, 
We will not fear, for God hath willed 

His truth to triumpli through us. 






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THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 17 

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 tlie 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. 



« praise god from whom all blessings 

flow:' 

The grand doxology, beginning, 

" Be thou, O God, exalted high," 

is suited to all religious occasions, to all Christian de- 
nominations, to all times, places, and conditions of men, 
and has been .translated into all civilized tongues, and 
adopted by the church universal. Written more than 
two hundred years ago, it has become the grandest tone 
in the anthem of earth's voices continually rising to 
heaven. As England's drum-call follows the sun, so the 
tongues that take up this grateful ascription of praise 
are never silent, but incessantly encircle the earth with 
their melody. 

Thomas Ken, (Kenn,) the writer of the hymns that 

first contained this magnificent stanza, in the form that 

2* 



i8 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

it is now used, was bom at Berkhamstead, England, in 
1637, 3.nd was educated at Oxford. He early in life con- 
secrated himself to God, and became a prelate. He was 
a lover of holy music. The organists and choristers be- 
ing silenced by the rigid rule of Cromwell, musical socie- 
ties were formed, in one of which Ken played the lute 
with admirable skill. This society was accustomed to 
meet in the college chambers. 

The Morning and the Evening Hymn, which end 
with this doxology, were originally written for the use 
of the students in Winchester College, and were append- 
ed to a devotional work which he himself prepared, en- 
titled " The Manual of Prayers." In this latter work he 
thus counsels the young men of the college : " Be sure 
to sing the Morning and Evening Hymns in your cham- 
ber, devoutly remembering that the Psalmist upon happy 
experience assures you that it is a good thing to tell of 
the loving kindness of the Lord early in the morning and 
of his truth in the night season." These hymns were 
probably at first printed on broad sheets of paper and 
sent to each student's room. They were added to the 
Manual for Prayer in 1697. The work was now entitled, 
" A Manual of Prayers for the Use of Scholars in Win- 
chester College and all other devout Christians; to 
which are added Three Hymns, Morning, Evening, and 
Midnight, not in former editions, by the same author." 

In 1679, Ken was appointed chaplain to Mary, 
Princess of Orange, and in 1680 chaplain to Charles II. 
In the latter capacity he fearlessly did his duty, as one 
accountable to God alone, and not to any man. He 



THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 19 

reproved the "merry monarch" for his vices, in the 
plainest and most direct manner. " I must go and hear 
Ken tell me my faults," the king used to say good-hu- 
moredly. In 1684, Charles raised him to the see of Bath 
and Wells. 

" Before he became a bishop," says Macaulay, " he 
had maintained the honor of his gown by refusing, when 
ithe court was at Winchester, to let Nell Gwynn, the 
king's mistress, lodge at the house which he occupied as 
prebendary. The king had sense enough to respect so 
manly a spirit. Of all the prelates he liked Ken best." 
Charles once spoke of him as the " good little man that 
refused his lodgings to poor little Nell." 

He was the faithful spiritual adviser of Charles II. on 
his death-bed, and attended the Duke of Monmouth at 
his execution. He resisted the reestablishment of popery 
under James, and was one of the famous " seven bishops" 
who were tried for treason and acquitted. Having sworn 
allegiance to James, he was too conscientious to break his 
oath on the ascension of William III., Prince of Orange, 
and was deprived of his bishopric as a non-juror at the 
coronation. 

He was now reduced to poverty, a condition not un- 
acceptable to him, for he was not allured by the false 
glitter of the courts of kings. Like Fenelon, in reti- 
ring from places of splendor and power, he loved to be 
alone with his God, and let the world play its drama 
without being an actor. He was invited by Lord Vis- 
count Weymouth to spend the remainder of his days 
in his mansion at Longleat, near Frome, in Somerset- 



20 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

shire. There, enjoying the hospitality of a small suite of 
rooms, he lived in happy retirement for twenty years, 
universally respected and beloved. Queen Anne offered 
to restore him to the see of Bath and Wells, but he de- 
clined the position, " with grateful thanks for her majes- 
ty's gracious remembrance of him, having long since 
determined to remain in privacy." 

He died in March, 1710, and was buried in the church- 
yard of Frome. He had requested that six of the poor- 
est men of the parish might carry him to his grave, and 
that he might be interred without pomp or ceremony. 
This accordingly was the manner of his burial. 

"The moral character of Ken," says Lord Macaulay, 
" when impartially reviewed, sustains a comparison with 
any in ecclesiastical history, and seems to approach, as 
near as any human infirmity permits, to the ideal of 
Christian perfection." 

KEN'S MORNING HYMN. 

ORIGINAL TEXT OF 1 697. 

Awake, my soul, and with the sun 
Thy daily stage of duty run ; 
Shake off dull sloth, and early rise 
To pay thy morning sacrifice. 

Redeem thy misspent time that 's past, 
And live this day as if thy last ; 
Improve thy talent with due care, 
'Gainst the great day thyself prepare. 

Let all thy converse be sincere. 
Thy conscience as the noonday clear; 
Think how all-seeing God thy ways 
And all thy secret thoughts surveys. 



THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 21 

Influenced of the Light divine 
Let thine own light in good works shine ; 
Reflect all heaven's propitious rays 
In ardent love and cheerful praise. 

Wake and lift up thyself, my heart, 
And with the angels bear thy part, 
Who all night long unwearied sing 
Glory to the Eternal King. 

I wake, I wake, ye heavenly choir, 
May your devotion me inspire, 
That I like you my age may spend, 
Like you may on my God attend. 

May I like you in God delight, 
Have all day long my God in sight, 
Perform like you my Maker's will, 
Oh may I never more do ill. 

Had I your wings to heaven I 'd fly ; 
But God shall that defect supply. 
And my soul, winged with warm desire, 
Shall all day long to heaven aspire. 

Glory to thee who safe hast kept, 
And hast refreshed me while I slept ; 
Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake, 
I may of endless light partake. 

I would not wake, nor rise again, 
E'en heaven itself I would disdain, 
Wert not thou there to be enjoyed, 
And I in hymns to be employed. 

Heaven is, dear Lord, where'er thou art ; 
Oh never then from me depart ; 
For to my soul 't is hell to be. 
But for a moment without thee. 



23 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Lord, I my vows to thee renew ; 
Scatter my sins as morning dew ; 
Guard my first springs of thought and will, 
And with thyself my spirit filL 

Direct, control, suggest this day. 
All I design, or do, or say ; 
That all my powers, Mrith all their might 
In thy sole glory may unite. 

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow : 
Praise Him, all creatiu^es here below; 
Praise Him above, ye angelic host. 
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost 



KEN'S EVENING HYMN 

ORIGINAL TEXT OF 1 697. 

Glory to Thee, my God, this night 
For all the blessings of the light ; 
Keep me, oh keep me, King of kings, 
Under thine own Almighty wings. 

Forgiiffi^ej Lord, for thy dear Son, 
The ilE that I this day have done. 
That with the world, myself, and thee, 
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be. 

Teach me to live, that I may dread 
The grave as little as my bed ; 
Teach me to die, that so I may 
Triumphing rise at the last day. 

Oh may my soul on thee repose, 
And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close, 
Sleep that shall me more vigorous make 
To serve my God when I awake. 



THE STOR y OF THE HYMNS. 23 

When in the night I sleepless lie, 
My soul with heavenly thoughts supply ; 
Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, 
No powers of darkness me molest. 

Dull sleep, of sense me to deprive I 
I am but half my days alive ; 
Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are grieved 
To lie so long of thee bereaved. 

But though sleep o*er my frailty reigns, 
Let it not hold me long in chains. 
And now and then let loose my heart, 
Till it a hallelujah dart. 

The faster sleep the sense does bind, 
The more unfettered is the mind, 
Oh may my soul, from matter free, 
Thy unveiled goodness waking see. 

Oh when shall I, in endless day. 

For ever chase dark sleep away. 

And endless praise with the heavenly choir 

Incessant sing, and never tire ? 

You, my blest guardian, whilst I sleep, 
Close to my bed your vigils keep. 
Divine love into me instil, 
Stop all the avenues of ill. 

Thought to thought with my soul converse, 
Celestial joys to me rehearse, 
And in my stead all the night long, 
Sing to my God a grateful song. 

Praise God from whom all blessings flow : 
Praise Him all creatures here below : 
Praise Him above, ye angelic host : 
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 



24 THE STOR y OF THE HYMNS. 

'' ROCK OF ages:' 

The hymn beginning, 

" Rock of Ages, cleft for me," 

may well be esteemed one of the brightest gems of 
Christian psalmody. It holds a place in the affections 
of the church, second, perhaps, only to Charies Wesley's 
deep spiritual petition, 

" Jesus, lover of my soul." 

It is a grand tone that nerves and strengthens faith, that 
associates the sublime imagery of the Hebrew Scriptures 
with the all-protecting love of Christ, and that has con- 
soled thousands of Christians in the dying hour. The 
late Prince Consort repeated the first stanza on his bed of 
death, and found in it the perfect interpretation of the 
sentiment of his hopeful Christian experience. 

Augustus Montague Toplady, the author, was bom at 
Farnham, Surrey, England in 1740. His father fell at 
the battle of Carthagena, and he was brought up in 
charge of an exemplary and pious mother. He was 
educated at Westminster school. 

At the age of sixteen, Toplady chanced to go into a 
barn at an obscure place, called Codymain, Ireland, to 
hear an illiterate layman preach. The sermon made up- 
on him an unexpected impression and led to his imme- 
diate conversion. He thus speaks of this interesting 
experience in his diary : " That sweet text, * Ye who some- 
time were afar off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.* 
was particularly delightful and refreshing to my soul. 
It was from that passage that Mr. Morris preached on the 




I 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 25 

memorable evening of my effectual call by the grace of 
God, under the ministry of that dear messenger, under 
that sermon, I was, I trust, brought nigh by the blood of 
Christ, in August, 1756. 

" Strange that I, who had so long been under the means 
of grace in England, should be brought nigh to God in 
an obscure part of Ireland, amidst a handful of God's 
people met together in a barn, and under the ministry 
of one who could scarcely spell his name. The excel- 
lency of such power must be of God and cannot be of 



men." 



He became a minister of the church of England, 
maintained the Calvinistic doctrines in opposition to the 
Wesleys, and preached and wrote with self-consuming 
zeal. The only blemish of his high character was heated 
language and intolerance in controversy. 

In the year 1775 his health began to fail. It was 
evident that the sword was too sharp for the scabbard. 
His physical energies were being destroyed by the fiery 
ardor of soul that over-taxed them. His physician com- 
manded him to go to London. Here a new field opened 
before him, and he became pastor of the French Calvinist 
Reformed Church. 

On the year of his settlement in London, he published 
in the Gospel Magazine (March, 1 776) an article, entitled 
" Questions and Answers Relative to the National Debt," 
in which he adverts to the debt of sin, and shows how 
multitudinous are the sins of mankind. By numerical 
calculations, he exhibits the enormity of the debt of the 
redeemed soul, which Christ has cancelled, and impresses 

Sftor:^ or HTmiM. 3 



26 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

the reader with the transcendent love and value of Christ's 
atonement. With these thoughts glowing like a vision 
in his mind, he then added : 

Rock of ages, cleft for me, 

Let me hide myself in thee ; 

Ixit 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. 

The above is the original version, from which it will 
be seen that the hymn in common use has been greatly- 
transposed and altered. 

It was composed in Toplady's last years, when he 
already felt that he was beginning to lose his hold on 



i 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 27 

Hie, and that his feet were already standing on celestial 
altitudes. Some two years afterwards, when he was yet 
but thirty-eight years of age, the full time of his depart- 
ure came, and he found the prayer in the last stanza of 
his hymn fully and sweetly answered in the revelation of 
Divine love to his soul. He seemed to walk in Beulah» 
to breathe immortal airs and to hear the tuning of un- 
seen harps, and by faith to discover what the Protomar- 
tyr saw and the Revelator described. 

" Your pulse," said the doctor, " is becoming weaker." 

" That is a good sign," said Toplady, " that my death 
is fast approaching, and I can add that my heart beats 
every day stronger and stronger for glory." 

As his end drew immediately near, tears of joy filled 
his eyes, before which already seemed to pass visions of 
Paradise, and he exclaimed : " It will not be long before 
God takes me, for no mortal can live after the glories 
God has manifested to my soul." 

The following hymn, which furnishes a picture of his 
religious consolations, confidence and hope, was written 
during one of these periods of illness, that gradually 
wasted his strength, and brought him constantly in face 
with death and the eternal world : 

When languor and disease invade 

This trembling house of clay, 
*T is sweet to look beyond my pains. 

And long to fly away ; 

Sweet to look inward, and attend 

The whispers of his love ; 
Sweet to look upward, to the place 

Where Jesus pleads above ; 



28 THE STORY OF TJIE HYMNS. 

Sweet to look back, and see my name 
In lifers fair book set down ; 

Sweet to look forward, and behold 
Eternal joys my own ; 

Sweet to reflect how grace divine 

My sins on Jesus laid ; 
Sweet to remember that his blood 

My debt of suffering paid ; 

Sweet to rejoice in lively hope, 
That, when my change shall come, 

Angels shall hover round my bed, 
And waft my spirit home. 

If such the sweetness of the stream, 
What must the fountain be. 

Where saints and angels draw their bliss 
Directly, Lord, from thee. 



The following Latin version of Rock of Ages, is by 
Rt. Hon. W. E. 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 nee Justus forem 
Quamvis tota vi laborem. 
Nee si fide nunquam cesso, 
Fletu stillans indefesso ; 
Tibi soli tantum munus^- 
Salv^ me, Salvatou Unus ! 



% 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 29 

Nil in manu mccum fero, 

Sed me versus crucem gero : 

Vestimenta nudus oro, 

Opem debilis imploro, 

Fontem Christi quacro immundus, 

Nisi laves, moribundus. 

Dum hos artus vita regit, 
Ouando nox sepiilcro tegit; 
Mortuos quum stare jubes, 
Scdens Judex inter nubes ; — 
Jesus, pro me perforatus, 
Condar intra tuum latus ! 



— ♦- 



The following hymn, by Toplady, is not found in 
many of the standard hymn-books : 

FULL ASSURANCE. 

A DEBTOR to mercy alone, 

Of covenant mercy I sing, 
Nor fear, with thy righteousness on, 

My person and offering to bring. 

The terrors of law and of God 
With me can have nothing to do, 

My Saviour's obedience and blood 
Hide all my transgressions from view. 

The work which his goodness began. 
The arm of his strength will complete; 

His promise is yea and amen. 
And never was forfeited yet. 

Things future, nor things that are now, 

Nor all things below nor above. 
Can make him his purpose forego. 

Or sever my soul from his love. 

3* 



30 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

My name from the palms of his hands 

Eternity cannot erase, 
Impressed on his heart it remains, 

In marks of indelible grace. 

Yes, I to the end shall endure, 
As sure as the earnest is given ; 

More happy, but not more secure, 
The glorified spirits in heaven. 



"^ GUIDE ME, O THOU GREAT JEHOVAH.'' 

The much-used hymn, beginning, 

" Guide me, O thou great Jehovah !" 

is attributed to Olivers in neariy all American collections 
of hymns. We find it so credited in some of the more 
careful compilations, among them, " Hymns for the 
Church Militant." It was written by William Williams, 
a Welsh preacher in the Welsh Calvinist-Methodist con- 
nection, in the times of Whitefield and Lady Hunting- 
don. Olivers, who was a musician as well as a poet, and 
himself a Welshman, supplied the music, and so his name 
became accidentally associated with the authorship of the 
hymn. 

William Williams, or Williams of Pantycelyn, who 
has been called the Watts of Wales, was born in 171 7, 
in the parish of Llanfair-ar-y-bryn, in Carmarthenshire. 

His conversion forms an interesting part of his stu- 
dent-history. He was awakened to the importance of 
personal religion while listening to the words of the once 
famous preacher, Howel Harris, in Talgarth churchyard. 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 31 

His experience was a clear one, and the duty of becom- 
ing a preacher was made plain to him. He received 
deacon's orders at the age of twenty-three. At the age 
of thirty-two he left the Established Church and became 
an itinerant Methodist preacher. 

He possessed the warm heart and glowing imagina- 
tion of a true Welshman, and his sermons abounded 
with vivid picturing, and, always radiant with the pres- 
ence of his Divine Master, they produced an extraordi- 
nary effect on susceptible Welshmen. 

Working in connection with such zealous ministers 
as Harris and Rowlands, he became a very popular 
preacher, and his local fame greatly increased when to 
Welsh eloquence he added the choicest gifts of song, 
and began to publish his highly experimental hymns. 
The inspiring words of 

" O'er the gloomy hills of darkness," 

were written long before the beginning of foreign mis- 
sionary enterprises, while Williams, its popular author, was 
yet traversing the lonely mountains of Wales, and look- 
ing for the dawn of a brighter religious day. Welshmen 
sung the hymn as a prophecy, and felt their hearts glad- 
dened with hope, years and years before the church 
begun her aggressive march into pagan and heathen 
lands. 

His first Welsh hymn-book was entitled the " Alle- 
luia," and was printed in Bristol in six parts in i745-*47. 
His second book was called " The Sea of Glass," and the 
third, "Visible Farewell; Welcome to Invisible Things." 



32 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

In 1 77 1 he wrote an elegy on Whitefield, which he dedi- 
cated to the Countess of Huntingdon. He died in 1791. 
It is probable that the famous hymn, beginning, 
" Guide me, O thou great Jehovah," was sung in Ameri- 
ca before it obtained a European reputation. Its history 
is as follows : Lady Huntingdon having read one of Will- 
iams' books with much spiritual satisfaction, persuaded 
him to prepare a collection of hymns, to be called the 
" Gloria in Excelsis," for especial use in Mr. Whitefield's 
Orphans' House in America. In this collection appear- 
ed the original stanzas of " Guide me, O thou great Je- 
hovah." In 1774, two years after its publication in the 
" Gloria in Excelsis," it was republished in England in 
Mr. Whitefield's collections of hymns. Its rendering 
from the Welsh into English is attributed to W. Evans, 
who gives a rendering similar to that found in the pres- 
ent collections of hymns. The hymn was taken up by 
the Calvinist-Methodists, embodying as it did a metrical 
prayer for God's overcoming strength and victorious de- 
liverance in life's hours of discipline and trial, expressed 
in truly majestic language, in harmony with a firm reli- 
gious reliance and trust, and a lofty experimental faith. 
It immediately became popul?r among all denominations 
of Christians, holding a place in the affections of the 
church with Robinson's " Come, thou Fount of every 
blessing." It is now usually sung to " Greenville," th^ 
music of which is nearly identical with Rousseau's 
"Dream," and which was composed by Rousseau. Its 
original music, as we have said, was written by Thomas 
Olivers. 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. ^ 

The original hymn had four stanzas, and was some- 
what stronger in the choice of words than the present 
popular verses. It was as follows : 

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 ROW the crystal fountain. 
Whence the healing streams do flow ; 

Let the fiery, cloudy pillar 
Guide 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. 

Most versions read in the second line of the second 
stanza, "Whence the crystal waters flow," which pre- 
sents to the mind a picture inferior to the original. In 
the third stanza the third line usually reads, " Bear me 
through the swelling current," which is also an 'nferior 



34 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

picture for the singer, whatever it may be to the rhetori- 
cian. The last stanza is fervent, confident, and strong, 
lifting the soul on the wings of aspiration and faith, and 
it seems rather remarkable that it should be so com- 
monly omitted. 

''LORD OF THE SABBATH, HEAR OUR VOWSP 

When Dr. Doddridge, during his useful ministry, had 
finished the preparation of a pulpit discourse that strong- 
ly 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 preach- 
ing of the sermon. At the close of a discourse preached 
in Jan. 2, 1736, from the text, "There remaineth there- 
fore a rest to the people of God," he read the beautiful 
hymn, containing the following almost unequalled stan- 
zas: 

Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love, 

But there's a nobler rest above ; 

To that our labormg souls aspire, 

With ardent hope and strong desire. 

No more fatigue, no more distress, 
Nor sin nor hell shall reach the place ; 
No sighs shall mingle with the songs 
Which warble from immortal tongues. 

No rude alarms of raging foes ; 
No cares to break the long repose ; 
No midnight shade, no clouded sun, 
But sacred, high, eternal noon. 



TONES IN THE CHURCH, 35 

O long-expected day, begin ; 
Dawn on these realms of woe and sin : 
Fain would we leave this weary road^ 
And sleep in death, to rest with God. 

Dr. Doddridge, in his last years, seemed to have a 
spiritual foretaste of the heavenly joy and rest. Em- 
barking for Lisbon, in the hope of benefit from warmer 
air, he was able to say to his wife in his cabin, when con- 
scious that his life was almost ended, these cheerful and 
triumphant words : " I cannot express to you what a 
morning I have had. Such delightful and transporting 
views of the heavenly world as my Father is now indul- 
ging me with, no words can express." He died at Lisbon 
of consumption, at the age of fifty. He anticipated to 
the last the glorious rest he sings in his hymn. 



""COME, YE SINNERS, POOR AND NEEDY:' 

Few hymns for the last hundred years have been 
more frequently sung, at times of special spiritual re- 
freshing, than that beginning, 

" Come, ye sinners, poor and needy." 

It was written under the inspiration of a somewhat 
remarkable religious experience. Joseph Hart, its au- 
thor, was bom in London in 171 2. He was liberally 
educated, and commenced life as a teacher. At times, 
in early manhood, he was deeply interested in the sub- 
ject of religion, and led a restrained and prayerful life. 
But he fell a victim to temptation, engaged in many evil 
practices, and gained an unenviable notoriety for his dis- 




36 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

regard of decency and religious truth. " I was," he said, 
" in an abominable state, a loose backslider, and an 
audacious apostate." He published heathen translations 
of a pernicious tendency, and a skeptical work, entitled, 
" The Unreasonableness of Religion." 

His conscious errors and lapses were followed by 
terrible compunctions of conscience, and these inward 
tortures, which gave him no peace, led at last to his ref- 
ormation. He now began in earnest to seek the Saviour. 
After a period of great mental distress, he met with a 
change of heart, and experienced an abiding sense of the 
pardoning love of God. This happy change was wrought 
by his receiving a profound impression of the sufferings 
of Christ He says, "The week before Easter, 1757, I 
had such an amazing view of the agony of Christ in the 
garden as I know not how well to describe. I was lost 
in wonder and adoration, and the impression was too 
deep, I believe, ever to be obliterated. I believe that no 
one can know anything of the sufferings of Jesus, but by 
the Holy Ghost." Under the influence of this experience 
he composed the first part of the hymn beginning, 

" Come, all ye chosen saints of God." 

This experience he has very vividly impressed upon 
his well-known hymn, " Come, ye sinners, poor and needy." 

ORIGINAL. 

Come, ye sinners, poor and wretched, 
Weak and wounded, sick and sore ; 

Jesus ready stands to save you. 
Full of pity joined with power ; 

He is able, 
He is willing ; doubt no more. 



TONES IN THE CHURCIL j; 

Come, ye needy, come and welcome, 

God's free bounty glorify : 
True belief and true repentance, 

Every grace that brings you nigh, 
Without money. 

Come to Jesus Christ and buy. 

Come, ye weary, heavy-laden, 

Bruised and broken by the fall. 
If you tarry till you 're better. 

You will never come at all : 
Not the righteous. 

Sinners Jesus came to call. 

View him grov'ling in the garden ; 

Lo, your Maker prostrate lies ; 
On the bloody tree behold him I 

Hear him cry, before he dies, 
« It is finished !" 

Sinners, will not this suffice ? 

Lo ! the incarnate God, ascended, 

Pleads the merit of his blood ; 
Venture on him — ^venture wholly, 

Let no other trust intrude ; 
None but Jesus 

Can do helpless sinners good. 



''BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS?' 

Perhaps the best poetical expression of the senti- 
ment of Christian brotherhood in the English language 
is found in the hymn beginning, 

" Blest be the tie that binds 

Our hearts in Christian love." 

John Fawcett, D. D., the author of this hymn, a 
name that finds frequent place in Baptist collections of 

4 



i 



38 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

church psalmody, was bom near Bradford, Yorkshu-e, 
January 6, 1739. At the age of sixteen, while an appren- 
tice, he heard Mr. Whitefield preach. The sermon was 
instrumental in his conversion, and he joined the Meth- 
odist Society. In 1758 he became a member of the 
newly-formed Baptist church in Bradford. Here his 
activity and usefulness were so great, that his brethren 
advised him " to go beyond private exhortation," and " to 
stand forth and preach the gospel." After much pray- 
ing and many inward conflicts, he decided to follow their 
advice. In the summer of 1765, he was ordained minis- 
ter of the Baptist Society at Wainsgate. His work here 
was hard ; but his zeal and far-reaching sympathies won 
the hearts of his people, and opened the way of pastoral 
success. In 1772, after a pastorate of seven years, in 
which he had steadily grown in the attachment of a 
prosperous society, he went to London to preach for Dr. 
Gill, who was about resigning his ministerial office on 
* account of his age and infirmities. Dr. Gill's people 
were so much pleased with his deportment and discour- 
ses, that they gave him a call to become their pastor. 

His church in Wainsgate was scattered and poor; 
that in London was large, with ample resources, and 
presented a most promising field for a man with grow- 
ing capacities. His goods were loaded for removal to 
London, and his parishioners assembled to bid him a 
final adieu. An affecting scene followed, the poor peo- 
ple he had so long instructed and befriended entreating 
him with tears to remain. The voice of love prevailed ; 
he was convinced that it was his duty to remain here, 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 39 

and that this was the field Providence had allotted 
him. 

" I will stay," he said. " You may unpack my goods, 
and we will live for the Lord lovingly together." 

The affectionate expression of regard on the part of 
his parishioners made a deep impression upon his mind, 
and inspired him to pen in return, under an impulse of 
true poetic feeling, his well-known hymn : 

Blest be the tie that binds 

Our hearts in Christian love : 
The fellowship of kindred minds 

Is like to that above. 

Before our Father's throne 

We pour our ardent prayers : 
Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one— 

Our comforts and our cares. 

We share our mutual woes ; 

Our mutual burdens bear 
And often for each other flows 

The sympathizing tear. 

When we asunder part, 

It gives us inward pain; 
But we shall still be joined in heart, 

And hope to meet again. 

This glorious hope revives 

Our courage by the way: 
While each in expectation lives, 

And longs to see the day. 

From sorrow, toil, and pain, 

And sin we shall be free ; 
And perfect love and friendship reign 

Through all eternity. 



40 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

Dr. Fawcett was a great sufferer towards the close of 
his life ; but he seemed to dwell, as it were, on the con- 
fines of a better world, with the celestial country full in 
view. His last words were, " Come, Lord Jesus ; come 
quickly." 

''FROM GREENLAND'S ICY MOUNTAINS:' 

The origin of this hymn is given in Bishop Heber's 
memoirs, and retold in the annotations to the HymnaL 
We find in an American religious magazine a somewhat 
elegant version of the incident, which is as follows : 

" It does not necessarily take a lifetime to accom- 
plish immortality. A brave act done in a moment, a 
courageous word spoken at the fitting time, a few lines 
which can be written on a sheet of note-paper, may give 
one a deathless name. Such was the case with Reginald 
Heber, known far and wide, wherever the Christian reli- 
gion has penetrated, by his unequalled missionary hymn, 
'From Greenland's icy mountains.' These lines, so 
dear to every heart, so certain to live, while a benighted 
man remains to whom Christ's story has not yet been 
wafted, were written in a parlor, with conversation going 
on around its author, and in a few minutes' time. 

" Reginald Heber, then thirty-five years old, was vis- 
iting his father-in-law, Dr. Shipley, in Wrexham, having 
left his own charge at Hodnet a short time in order to 
deliver some lectures in Dr. Shipley's church. Half a 
dozen friends were gathered in the little rectory parlor 
one Saturday afternoon, when Dr. Shipley turned to 
Heber, knowing the ease with which he composed, and 



TO:VES IN THE CHURCH. 41 

asked him if he could not write some missionary lines 
for his church to sing the next morning, as he was going 
to preach upon the subject of Missions. This was not 
very long notice to give to a man to achieve the distin- 
guishing work of his life, and in the few moments which 
followed, Heber builded better than he knew. Retiring 
to a corner of the room, he wrote three verses of his 
hymn, and returning read them to his companions, only 
altering the one word, savage, to heathen in the second 
verse. 

"'There, there,' said Dr. Shipley, 'that will do very 
well' But Heber, replying that the sense was not quite 
complete, retired for a few moments, and then returned 
with the glorious bugle-blast of the fourth verse : 

" * Waft, waft, ye winds, His story, 

And you, ye waters, roll. 
Till like a sea of glory 

It spreads from pole to pole ; 
Till o'er our ransomed nature 

The Lamb, for sinners slain. 
Redeemer, King, Creator, 

In bliss returns to reign. Amen.' 

"It was printed that evening, and sung the next 
morning by the people of Wrexham church." 

From Greenland's icy mountains, 

From India's coral strand, 
Where Afric's sunny fountains 

Roll down their golden sand, 
From many an ancient river, 

From many a palmy plain, 
They call us to deliver 

Their land from error's chain. 

4* 



J 



THE STOJtar OF THE HYMNS. 

What though the spicy breezes 

Blow soft o'er Java's isle, 
Though every prospect pleases, 

And only man is vile ; - 
In vain, with lavish kindness, 

The gifts of God are strewn ; 
The heathen, in his blindness. 

Bows down to wood and stone. 

Can we, whose souls are lighted 

By wisdom from on high, 
Can we to man benighted 

The lamp of life deny ? 
Salvation ! O salvation ! 

The joyful sound proclaim. 
Till earth's remotest nation 

Has learned Messiah's name. 

Waft, waft, ye winds. His story, 

And you, ye waters, roll, 
Till, like a sea of glory, 

It spreads from pole to pole ; 
Till o'er our ransomed nature 

The Lamb, for sinners slain, 
Redeemer, King, Creator, 

In bliss returns to reign. 



** MIGHTY GOD, WHILE ANGELS BLESS THEE.^ 

Robert Robinson, the author of the well-known 
hymn beginning, 

" Come, thou Fount of every blessing," 

was a man of genius and impressible feelings, but was 
easily influenced by the force of association or circum- 
stance, an instability which he deeply regretted in his 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 43 

declining years. He was by turns a Methodist, an Inde- 
pendent, a Baptist, and a Socinian. He once said to a 
lady whom he chanced to hear singing 

'* Come, thou Fount of every blessing," 

in a stage-coach, after his relapse into the gloomy specu- 
lations of Socinianism, " Madam, I am the poor, unhappy 
man who composed that hymn, many years ago ; and I 
would give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy 
the feelings I had then." 

The early Methodists produced a number of hymns, 
which, like the German lyrics written during the thirty 
years' war, illustrate the majesty of faith. Among these 
are John Wesley's itinerant productions, Charles Wes- 
ley's famous hymn written on the Land's End, Cornwall, 
and Glover's "The God of Abraham praise." 

The well-known hymn beginning, 

" Mighty God, while angels bless thee," 

belongs to the same class. It was written under pecu- 
liar circumstances, and such as would seem to be little 
likely to inspire so noble a theme, 

" It was composed," says Dr. Belcher, " for the use of 
Benjamin Williams, deacon of the Baptist church at 
Reading. Benjamin was a favorite of Robinson when a 
boy. One day the poet took the boy into his lap, and 
under the influence of that affectionate feeling wljich a 
child's love inspires, he wrote : 

" Mighty God, while angels bless thee, 
May an infant praise thy name ? 
Lord of men as well as angels. 
Thou art every creature's theme." 



44 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

So far the poet's mind seems to have been influenced by 
the child he was holding. But a warm glow of religious 
feeling was awakened within him, and the second stanza 
was one of remarkable fervor and power : 

" Lord of every land and nation. 
Ancient of eternal days, 
Sounded through the whole creation 
Be thy just and lawful praise. 
Hallelujah! Amen." 

After completing the whole hymn, he read it to the 
child, and put it playfully into his hand. " Well do we 
remember," says Dr. Belcher, "the deep feeling with 
which Deacon Williams described to us the scene, as we 
sat with him by his own fireside." 

Such was the happy hour of domestic peace and 
affection that produced one of the most majestic strains 
in the language, which has been sung in all Christian 
lands. It is one among many instances on record in 
which the affectionate confidence of childhood has awa- 
kened the sweetest inspiration in the poet's heart, and 
the most harmonious chords of his lyre. 

The hymn as altered reads — 

" Mighty God ! while angels bless thee, 
May a sinner praise thy name ?" 



''FAR FROM THE WORLDS 

Few hymns are associated with sweeter and more 
elevated religious enjoyment than that by Cowper, begin- 
ning. 



--.--. — A 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 45 

Far from the world, O Lord, I flee, 

From strife and tumult far, 
From scenes where Satan wages still 

His most successful war. 

" The calm retreat, the silent shade. 
With prayer and praise agree. 
And seem by thy sweet bounty made 
For those who follow thee." 

The occasion of the writing of this hymn is deeply 
interesting. 'Cowper had just recovered from a pro- 
longed attack of melancholy, in which his sufferings had 
been so extreme that he had attempted to take his own 
life. The storm that had fallen upon him had broken 
his friendships and divorced his heart from the pleasures 
of the world. Recovery brought with it a strong desire 
for the hopes and consolations of a religious life. 

During the latter part of his despondency, he had 
been a patient of good Dr. Cotton, a poet-philanthropist, 
some of whose best literary productions are yet to be 
found in choice collections of English literature. Under 
the judicious advice of this most excellent man, Cowper 
became a Christian, and began to lead a very devout life. 
The soothing and controlling influences of religion has- 
tened his recovery, so that he no longer needed the 
restraints of the Retreat, and Dr. Cotton advised him to 
leave St. Albans, the scene of his sorrows, and take lodg- 
ings in some quiet country town, for retirement. 

Cowper went to Huntingdon, a place associated with 
his best hymns and his most interesting religious expe- 
riences. His brother accompanied him thither, and here 
left him among strangers. 



# 



46 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

As soon as his brother had departed, the poet felt the 
solitude of his situation, and his despondency began to 
return. He wandered forth into the fields ; it was a 
lovely country, and his spirits began to revive under the 
influence of the charming rural scenes. His heart was 
drawn out towards God. Like the disciples on their way 
to Emmaus, he felt the sweetness of heavenly compan- 
ionship ; his heart burned within him, and he longed to 
find a secret place for prayer. He at last came upon a 
secluded place, overhung by a green bank and shrub- 
bery, and here he knelt down and poured out his soul to 
God. He felt a renewed sense of his Saviour's presence, 
and had the sweet assurance that, however his lot might 
be cast. Providence would direct him aright. 

The next day was the Sabbath, and he went to church 
for the first time since his recovery. The sanctuary 
seemed new to him, and its services had a spiritual mean- 
ing that he had never felt before. The presence of God 
was on this occasion most gloriously revealed to him. 

Not only was his heart changed towards God, but 
towards the worshippers. Observing a person near him 
devoutly engaged in worship, he was led to regard him 
with the deepest affection. He says, "While he [the 
stranger] was singing psalms I looked at him, and ob- 
serving him intent on this holy employment, I could not 
help saying in my heart with much emotion, * The Lord 
bless you for praising him whom my soul loveth.' " 

After church he immediately went to the solitary 
place under the mossy bank where he had found so much 
comfort in praying on the day before, and here again he 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 47 

enjoyed very remarkable spiritual refreshment in prayer. 
" How," he says, in referring to this occasion, " how shall 
I express what the Lord did for me, except by saying 
that he made all his goodness to pass before me? I 
seemed to speak to him face to face, as a man conver- 
seth with his friend. I could say indeed with Jacob, 
not how dreadful, but how lovely is this place." 

""GOD MOVES IN A MYSTERIOUS WAYP 

God moves in a mysterious way. 

His wonders to perform ; 
He plants his footstep in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm. 

Deep in unfathomable mines 

Of never-failing skill. 
He treasures up his bright designs. 

And works his sovereign will. 

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; 

The clouds ye so much dread 
Are big with mercy, and shall break 

In blessings on your head. 

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense. 

But trust him for his grace ; 
Behind a frowning providence 

He hides a smiling face. 

His purposes will ripen fast. 

Unfolding every hour: 
The bud may have a bitter taste, 

But sweet will be the flower. 

Blind unbelief is sure to err. 

And scan his work in vain : 
God is his own interpreter. 

And he will make it plain. 



48 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

This was the last hymn which Cowper contributed 
to the "Ohiey Collection," and perhaps the finest and 
most impressive that he ever wrote. It was composea 
just before his second attack of insanity ; the shadow of 
the coming eclipse had already touched his mind. It is 
said that on one occasion Cowper had determined to go 
to a particular part of the river Ouse and drown himself ; 
that the driver of the post-chaise missed his way, and that 
the hymn was the result of the mental reaction that.fol- 
lowed this evidence of providential protection. 

Montgomery says of the hymn, that it is "rendered 
awfully interesting by the circumstances under which it 
was written — in the twilight of departing reason." 

Though this was the last of Cowper's Olney Hymns, 
it was not the last hymn that he ever wrote. After the 
publication of the Olney Hymns, he composed the hymn 

beginning, 

" To Jesus, the crown of my hope." 

This is supposed to have been his last, written as it was 
amid the departing gleams of religious comfort, before 
despondency and a sense of spiritual orphanage hope- 
lessly settled upon his mind. 



''I LOVE TO STEAL AWHILE AWAYP 

We read that holy men of old communed with God 
in deserts and in solitary places, and that the Saviour 
himself sought the quiet retreats of nature for prayer 
Many poets, among them Madame Guyon and Cowper 
have sung the beauty of worshipping God in places oi 



TONES IN THE CHURCIL 49 

• 

rural retirement, where the rocks are altars and the birds 
are choirs. Madame Guyon herself loved to pray in sol- 
itary places, and Cowper but gives his own experience at 
St. Albans, when he writes the hymn, beginning, 

" Far from the world, O Lord, 1 flee." 

A devotional hymn, found only in old hymn-books, 
called " The Bower of Prayer," and written by one accus- 
tomed to commune with God in the forest, amid the 
" ivy, the balsam, the wild eglantine," begins, 

" To leave my dear friends and with neighbors to part, 
And go from my own home afflicts not my heart, 
Like the thought of absenting myself for a day 
From that blessed retreat where I *ve chosen to pray. 

" The early shrill notes of the loved nightingale 
That sung in the bower I observed as my bell. 
To call me to duty, while birds in the air 
Sung anthems of praise as I went forth to prayer." 

The favorite hymn beginning, 

" I love to steal awhile away," 

was written under the promptings of a love of devotion 
amid rural scenes, and the inflow of a happy Christian 
experience. Its author was Mrs. Phoebe H. Brown, who 
was born in Canaan, N. Y., in 1783. It appeared in 
Nettleton's "Village Hymns," in 1825. The authoress, 
a devout Christian mother in humble circumstances in 
life, was accustomed to resort to a solitary place in a 
wood or grove, toward nightfall, for secret prayer. For 
this she was severely criticised by a wealthy neighbor, 
and her feelings in consequence were deeply wounded. 

8(00 of Hyiiins. r^ 



50 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

It was a relief to Mrs. Brown to express any strong emo- 
tional feeling in poetry, and she made this trial the occa- 
sion of writing the hymn so often sung to the music of 
"Woodstock." The second line as originally written 
was, " From children and from care." 

I LOVE to steal awhile away 

From every cumbering care, 
And spend the hours of setting day 

In humble, grateful prayer. 

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. 

I love, by faith, to take a view 

Of brighter scenes in heaven ; 
The prospect doth my strength renew, 

While here by tempests driven. 

Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er, 

May its departing ray 
3e calm as this impressive hour. 

And lead to endless day. 



« WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD. 

When all thy mercies, O my God, 

My rising soul surveys, 
Transported with the view, I 'm lost 

In wonder, love and praise. 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 51 

Oh, how can words with equal warmth 

The gratitude declare 
That glows within my ravished heart ? 

But thou canst read it there. 

To all my weak complaints and cries 

Thy mercy lent an ear, 
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learned 

To form themselves in prayer. 

When in the slippery paths of youth 

With heedless steps I ran, 
Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe. 

And led me up to man. 

Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths, 

It gently cleared my way ; 
And through the pleasing snares of vice. 

More to be feared than they. 

Through every period of my life 

Thy goodness I '11 pursue ; 
And after death, in distant worlds, 

The pleasing theme renew. 

Through all eternity to thee 

A grateful song I 'U raise ; 
But oh ! eternity 's too short 

To utter all thy praise. 

The original poem consists of thirteen stanzas, but 
the part quoted constitutes all of the hymn in common 
use. The hymn is almost universally familiar. 

Addison was made to see clearly God*s providential 
care in his own life and experience. This hymn was 
inspired by devotional gratitude for his providential 
escape from shipwreck during a storm off the coast of 

Genoa. applbton*s bmcyclopbdia. 



JE 



52 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

« O THOUy MY SOUL, FORGET NO MORE:' 

Most of our readers are doubtless familiar with 

Krishnu-Pars hymn. It is the hymn beginning, 

" O thou, my soul, forget no more 
The Friend who all thy sorrows bore." 

But many of them may not know the author as the first 
Hindoo convert to Christianity. 

A writer in a Baptist missionary paper thus relates 
the story of its origin : Dr. Carey had spent six years of 
toil in India, and had seen no results from his labors. 
He had prayed, and studied, and waited with a heavy but 
not with a despondent heart. At length the Master 
granted a first token of his favor and blessing. Krishnu, 
while engaged in his work as a carpenter, fell and broke 
his arm. Mr. Thomas, Carey's companion and fellow- 
laborer in the mission, was called to set the broken limb, 
and after his work as a surgeon was done, he most fer- 
vently preached the gospel to the assembled crowd. 
The unfortunate carpenter was affected even to tears, 
and readily accepted an invitation to call on the mission- 
aries for further instruction. The truth took deep hold 
on his heart. He told the story he had heard to his 
wife and daughter ; and they, too, were so much moved 
that all three offered themselves as candidates for baptism. 

While the question of their reception was under dis- 
cussion, on the 22d of December, 1800, Krishnu and 
Goluk, his brother, openly renounced their caste and sat 
down at the table with the missionaries to eat with them. 
This excited great surprise among the natives. The 
evening of the same day, Krishnu, his wife and daugh- 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 53 

ter, went before the church, told the process by which 
they had been led to embrace Christianity, and were 
received for baptism. The occasion was one of joyful 
interest. It was, indeed, too full of delicious excitement 
for Mr. Thomas to bear ; for he had been laboring for 
seventeen years as a missionary, and now looked upon 
his first convert. 

When it was reported that Krishnu had thrown up 
his caste and become a Christian, the wildest excitement 
prevailed. A mob of two thousand persons gathered 
around his house. They dragged him and his brother 
before the magistrate, but could bring no definite charge 
against them. They were released, and a native soldier 
placed as a guard at Krishnu's house. When they saw 
what a wild storm their profession of Christianity had 
created, the two women faltered and wished to postpone 
their baptism. Goluk did the same ; and Krishnu was 
left to encounter the odium and withstand the storm 
alone. He was baptized in the Ganges. The Governor 
of India, a number of Portuguese, and great crowds of 
Hindoos and Mohammedans were present to witness the 
rite. Dr. Carey walked down into the water with his 
eldest son on one side of him and Krishnu on the other. 
Amid the profoundest silence he explained that it was 
not the water of the sacred river that could wash away 
sin, but the blood of atonement ; and then he administer- 
ed the sacred rite of baptism ; breaking down the wall of 
separation between the Englishman and the Hindoo, and 
making them brothers in Christ Jesus. All hearts were 

impressed; the governor wept; and that evening, De- 

5* 



54 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

cember 28, for the first time the Lord's Supper was 
celebrated in Bengalee. 

Krishnu was the first of a long line. When he was 
baptized he was about thirty-six years old ; and he lived 
for more. than twenty years a faithful and honored disci- 
ple of the Lord. He became an ardent student, and 
wrote and compiled tracts that were eagerly read by his 
countrymen. He also wrote a number of hymns. The 
one we often sing on communion occasions was transla- 
ted by Dr. Marshman. He died with cholera in 1822, 
universally lamented. 

O THOU, my soul, forget no more 
The Friend who all thy sorrows bore; 
Let every idol be forgot; 
But, O my soul, forget him not. 

Renounce thy works and ways, with grie^ 
And fly to this divine relief ; 
Nor him forget, who left his throne, 
And for thy life gave up his own. 

Eternal truth and mercy shine 

In him, and he himself is thine : 

And canst thou then, with sin beset, 

Such charms, such matchless charms forget? 

Oh, no ; till life itself depart. 
His name shall cheer and "warm my heart ; 
And lisping this, from earth I '11 rise, 
And join the chorus of the skies. 



^ JESUS, MYALL, TO HEAVEN HAS GONE:' 

About the year 1730 there lived in Reading, Eng- 
land, a lad by the name of John Cennitk. He had a 
lively fancy and a warm social nature; he made friends 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 55 

easily, and did not always choose them well, and he 
allowed himself to be too much influenced by idlers who 
courted his affection. The age of fifteen did not find 
him a promising youth; he was fond of cards, novels, 
and stage-plays, and, but for his warm, susceptible feel- 
ings, he might have been classed among the profitless 
boys of the town. 

But he was not happy. His conscience was ever ill 
at ease, and, as he grew older, he found himself led 
hither and thither by the mere force of evil associations 
and habits, while his desultory life lost its charms for 
him. Solitude constantly presented to his mind the 
gloomy reflection that the days of youth were swiftly 
passing, that manhood, too, must soon be gone, and he 
must die. 

One day, while walking the streets of London en- 
gaged in serious thought, one of those mental reactions 
that suddenly arrest a gay life, took away all his relish 
for worldly pleasures. To use his own language, '* While 
walking hastily in Cheapside, the hand of the Lord 
touched me, and I at once felt an uncommon fear and 
dejection." He had often retired to rest with a tortured 
conscience, but he had never before known a depression 
of spirit like that. He saw that he was a sinner, that 
his course was leading to ruin, and that one day he 
would suffer the penalties of his disregard of the require- 
ments of God. He looked upon the past with regret 
and the future opened to him no cheering prospect. 

This anxious concern continued two years. He daily 
longed for the peace that religion imparts, and sought 




56 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

for it by reforming his conduct, and by practising self- 
denial and austerities, but he did not seek it in the love 
and compassion of Christ. He often fasted till his 
strength was reduced ; he prayed unceasingly, regarding 
prayer in the light of penance, as an act that would pur- 
chase pardon, but the unrest still remained. He had no 
peace, the great conflict went on in his soul. 

One day, while thus sorely tried, and brought almost 
to the verge of despair, he met with the words, " I am 
THY SALVATION." The tcxt was like a revelation to him. 
It lifted the veil that had long darkened his mind, and he 
saw the way of peace and safety by casting himself 
wholly on the mercy of Christ. His mind was filled 
with unspeakable joy on believing that Jesus would 
"take him to Him" as he was, with all his imperfec- 
tions, and pardon all his sin. He now found peace to 
his soul. The presence of the Saviour seemed continu- 
ally with him, and he could say, as he afterwards express- 
ed his feelings in verse, in view of the happy change : 

" Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb, 
I love to hear of thee; 
No sound so charming as thy name, 
Nor half so sweet can be." 

He now earnestly entreated his young associates to 
turn from the pursuit of worldly folly to religion, and 
the constant theme of his conversation was " peace and 
pardon through the blood of Christ." 

Cennick became a Gospel minister, and was associ- 
ated with the Wesleys and Whitefield in their labors. 
He was a fervent-spirited poet, and he thus told in 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 57 

verse the experience we have been relating ; a hymn that 
all our readers will recognize, though comparatively few 
may have known the circumstances under which it was 
written : 

"Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone, 
He whom I fix my hopes upon. 
His path I see, and I '11 pursue 
The narrow way till Him I view. 

" The more I strove against his power, 
I felt the weight and guilt the more, 
Till late I heard my Saviour say, 
Come hither, soul, I am the way. 

" Lo, glad I come, and thou, blest Lamb, 
Shalt take me to thee as I am. 
Nothing but sin I thee can give. 
Nothing but love shall I receive. 

" Now will I tell to sinners round 
What a dear Saviour I have found. 
I '11 point to thy redeeming blood, 
And say. Behold the way to god." 

He thus speaks of the same religious experience in 
one of his poems : 

" Dangers were always in my path. 
And fears of death and endless ^vrath. 
Though every day I wail my fall 
Three years of grief exceeded all : 
No rest I knew ! a slave of sin. 
With scarce a spark of hope within." 

He became a teacher in the school for colliers* chil- 
dren, which Wesley established at Kingswood. In 
1745, he severed his connection with the Methodists, 
and joined the Moravian Brethren. He died at an early 




S8 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

age in 1755. His end was peace. After his decease, a 
poem was found in his pocket, written in anticipation of 
the final summons, entitled " Nunc Dimittis/* The fol- 
lowing stanza will show the spirit of resignation in which 
he viewed the change : 

'' O Lamb, I languish 

Till the day I see 
When thou shalt say, 

* Come up and be with Me P 
Twice seven years 

Have I thy servant been, 
Now let me end 

My service and my sin." 



"^ FATHER, WHATEVER OF EARTHLY BLISS:' 

The most unfortunate people are sometimes the most 
useful. Socrates purblind, Seneca withered, Milton blind, 
Collins and Cowper distressed with the fear of insanity. 
Dr. Johnson carrying with him physical and mental in- 
firmity from youth to age, were among the world's bene- 
factors notwithstanding these obstacles to success. From 
a blighted youth and life-long misfortune have often 
sprung works of benevolence and sympathy, such as 
only could result from the discipline of trial. 

" There is a secret in the ways of God 

With his own children, which none others know, 
That sweetens all he does." 

In nearly every collection of hymns, and especially 
in collections used in Baptist churches, the name of 
"Mrs. Steele" is more frequently found than any other 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. 59 

female writer. The address "Mrs." is usually placed 
before her name, though the lady was never married. 
This usage is common, in England, with maiden ladies 
entitled to especial respect, and it has been retained by 
American compilers of devotional poetry and hymns. 

She was the daughter of Rev. William Steele, an 
English Baptist minister in Hampshire. She united with 
the church under her father's care, and was greatly be- 
loved for her humility, piety, and Christian activities. 
She was a great sufferer, and from a life of severe disci- 
pline grew those sweet Christian graces which find ex- 
pression in her hymns. 

" 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 murmur free, 
The blessings of thy love impart, 
And help me live to Thee." 

She met with an accident in childhood which 
made her an invalid for life. She was also engaged to be 
married to a gentleman whom she dearly loved, and the 
preparations were fully made for the wedding. At the 
very moment when she was expecting the bridegroom's 
arrival, the guests being already in part assembled, a 
messenger came with the news that he had just been 
drowned. Her life, now doubly blighted, sought only 
consolation in the exercises of piety, charity, and the 
inspirations of her pen. Her father's death deepened 



i 



6o THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

her sorrows in her helpless situation, and weaned her heart 

from the vanishing things of the world. But she bore 

her lot in her most shadowed hours with resignation, 

"looking unto Jesus." Her exit was serene and happy. 

Wrinkled with sorrow and worn with age, she at last 

realized a full answer to the burden of her life-long 

prayer : 

" Let the sweet hope that thou art mine 

My life and death attend ; 

Thy presence through my journey shine, 

And crown my journey's end." 

Shortly before her departure, she said : 

" I know that my Redeemer liveth." 

Her life was told in that h)rmn. " Earthly bliss" was 
denied her, but she had a " calm and thankful heart," 
God*s "presence" shone through her "journey," and 
crowned the "journey's end." 



^ JESUS, AND SHALL IT EVER BEP' 

This hymn was written by a pious youth, named 
Joseph Grigg, when only ten years old. Little is known 
of his personal history. His early life was passed in 
humble circumstances. Dr. Joseph Belcher mentions 
that he continued to exercise his poetical gifts, so early 
developed. He says : " About half a century ago, we 
saw a small pamphlet containing nineteen hymns, writ- 
ten by a young man named Grigg, when he was a labor- 
ing mechanic." His early piety seems to have had a 
steady growth and ripe development. He became a Pres- 
byterian minister, and preached for a time in the Presby- 




TONES IN THE CHURCH. 61 

terian Chapel, Silver street, London. He died in 1 768. 
The following lines composed on his death by Thomas 
Green, a local poet, show that his memory was one of 
those that " smell sweet and blossom in the dust :" 

" Death has, in silence, sealed th' instructive tongue 
That used to captivate the listening throng ; 
No more he stands to plead a Saviour's name. 
And these cold hearts of ours with love inflame ; 
No more he shows the path where duty lies, 
That path of pleasure leading to the skies." 

Grigg's hymn beginning, 

" Jesus, and shall it ever be," 

discovers remarkable maturity of thought for a youth 
of ten years. It not unfavorably compares with Milton's 
Psalm, " Let us with a gladsome mind," written at the 
age of fifteen. The hymn was originally published in 
five double stanzas in the Gospel Magazuie for April, 
1774, under the title, 

«*SHAME OF JESUS CONQUERED BY LOVE, 

BY A YOUTH OF TEN YEARS." 

It was sent to the magazine by Rev. Benjamin Fran- 
cis, who interested himself in the young Author. 

Jksus, and shall it ever be ! 
A mortal man ashamed of thee ! 
Scorned be the thought by rich and poor : 
O may I scorn it more and more ! 

Ashamed of Jesus ! sooner far 
Let evening blush to own a star. 
Ashamed of Jesus ! just as soon 
Let '."iiidnight be ashamed of noon. 
6 




62 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

'T is evening with my soul till He, 
That Morning Star bids darkness flee : 
He sheds the beams of noon Divine 
O'er all this midnight soul of mine. 

Ashamed of Jesus ! shall yon field 
Blush when it thinks who bid it yield ? 
Yet blush I must, while I adore, 
I blush to think I yield no more. 

Ashamed of Jesus ! of that Friend 
On whom for heaven my hopes depend ? 
It must not be ! be this my shame, 
That I no more revere his Name. 

Ashamed of Jesus ! yes I may ; 
When I Ve no crimes to wash away ; 
No tear to wipe, no joy to crave. 
No fears to quell, no soul to save. 

Till then, (nor is the boasting vain,) 
Till then, I boast a Saviour slain ; 
And oh, may this my portion be. 
That Saviour not ashamed of me. 



« VITAL SPARK OF HE A VENLY FLAME?' 

The construction of this funeral anthem and chant is 
very peculiar, and illustrates how thought may be im- 
proved in its expression, (i.) The heathen emperor 
Adrian, a philosopher as well as a ruler, addressed his 
soul on his death-bed, in the Latin lines, beginning, 

" Animula, blandula, vagula, 
Hospes comesque corporis," etc. 

which are familiar to scholars as " Adrian's Address to 
his Soul when Dying," and which many poets have trans- 



TONES IN THE CHURCH. (^i 

lated into English verse. (2.) An old hymn writer by the 
name of Flatman wrote a Pindaric, somewhat similar 
to ** Adrian's Address," as follows : 

" When on my sick-bed I languish, 
Full of sorrow, full of anguish, 
Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying. 
Panting, groaning, speechless, dying ; 
Methinks I hear some gentle spirit say, 
* Be not fearful, come away.' " 

(3.) The poet Pope combined these two poems with 
the words of Divine inspiration, " O death, where is thy 
sting ? O grave, where is thy victory T thus making of 
the whole a triumphant Christian anthem. 

Vital spark of heavenly flame. 
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame. 
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying. 
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life. 

Hark ! they whisper : angels say, 
" Sister spirit, come away !" 
What is this absorbs me quite. 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight. 
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath. 
Tell me, my soul, can this be death ? 

The world recedes : it disappears : 
Heaven opens on my eyes ; my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring. 
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! 
O grave, where is thy victory ? 

O death, where is thy sting ? 



11. HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 



1. KING ROBERT'S HYMN. 

2. GUSTA VUS ADOLPHUS* HYMN, 

3. ST. FRANCIS XA VIER'S HYMN. 

4. THOMAS A XEMPJS* HYMN. 

5. .57^ WALTER RALEIGH S HYMN. 

6. GEPHARDT'S HYMN OF TRUST. 

7. KLOPSTOCICS HYMN. 

8. SAMUEL RUTHERFORD. 

9. ADDISON S TRA VELLER'S HYMN. 
la COUNT ZINZENDORF'S HYMN 

11. LADY HUNTINGDON'S HYMN 

12. JOHN WESLEY'S ITINERANT HYMN. 

13. CHARLES WESLEY'S WATCH NIGHT HYMNS. 

14. CHARLES WESLEY'S HYMN IN TIME OF TROUBLE. 

15. LANG HORN'S ''IT IS TOLD ME I MUST DIE." 



6* 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 



KING ROBERT SECOND'S HYMN. 

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. 




68 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS 

On the faithful, who adore 
And confess thee, evermore 

In thy sevenfold gifts descend ; 
Give them virtue's sure reward. 
Give them thy salvation, Lord, 

(jive them joys that never end. Amen. 

Robert II. 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 103 1, 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. He was inti- 
mate with Fulbert of Chartres, a man of great learning 
and religious zeal, of whom Canute and other princes 
sought advice. 

The king and Chartres both produced hymns, which 
are still used in the English church. Robert's hymn, 
"Veni, Sancte Spiritus," is given above. 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. Dennis, 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 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 69 

church than his own hymn, which, after nearly a thou- 
sand years, is still a tone and an influence in the world. 
" St. Fulbert of Chartres' Hymn," which is found in 
the Church of England's collection, is 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. 



While we, his soldiers, praise our King, 

His mercy we implore. 
Within his palace bright to bring 

And keep us evermore. 

All glory to the Father be ; 

All glory to the Son ; 
All glory, Holy Ghost, to thee, 

While endless ages run. 



I 



7Q THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 



HYMN OF GUSTA VUS ADOLPHUS. 

Many noble hymns were produced in Germany during 
the Thirty Years* War, 6ut that composed by Altenburg, 
and known as " Gustavus' Battle Song," is by far the 
most majestic strain of the period. "As we read the 
stirring lines, a vision rises before us of two mighty 
hosts encamped over against each other, stilled by the 
awe that falls on brave hearts when momentous events 
are about to be decided. The thick fogs of an autumn 
morning hide the foes from each other; only the shrill 
note of the clarion is heard piercing through the mist. 
Then suddenly in the Swedish camp there is silence. 
With a solemn mien Gustavus advances to a front rank 
of his troops, and kneels down in the presence of all of 
his followers. In a moment the whole army bends with 
him in prayer. Then there bursts forth the sound of 
trumpets, and ten thousand voices join in 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. 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 7 J 

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 — an 
army so inspired with confidence in God could not but 
be victorious ; but at the moment of triumph a riderless 
horse came flying back to the camp — it was that of the 
martyred king. 

ST. FRANCIS XA VIER'S HYMN 

St. Francis Xavier's hymn has been pronounced, 

even by Protestant writers, one of the " most profoundly 

and loftily spiritual" of Christian lyrics, because, as one 

expresses the leading thought of the composition, *' it is 

the essence of disinterestedness." The following is the 

original: 

O Deus, ego amo Te. 
Nee amo Te, ut salves mc, 
Aut quia non amantes Te 
^terno punis igne. 

Tu, Tu, mi Jesu, totum roe 
Amplexus es in cruce ; 
Tulisti clavos, lanceam, 
Multamque ignominian^ 





72 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Innumeros dolores, 
Sudores, et angores, 
Ac mortem ; et haec propter rae, 
Ac pro me peccatore. 

Cur igitur non amei» Te, 

Jesu amantissime ! 
Non, ut in coelo salves me, 
Aut in setemunt damnes me, 

Nee praemii uUius spe, 
Sed sicut Tu amasti me ; 
Sic amo et amabo Te, 
Solum, quia Rex mens es. 

The hymn purports to be a revelation of the writer's 
own experience. Francis Xavier was born of a noble 
family in Spain, in 1506. At the age of sixteen he en- 
tered the University of Paris, where he was brought 
under the influence of Loyola, the celebrated founder of 
the Order of Jesus. He renounced all worldly ambitions 
and aims, became a missionary to China, India, and other 
foreign lands, toiling with a self -forgetful ardor and a self- 
consuming zeal. He died in the work, in China, in 1552. 

My God, I love thee — not because 

1 hope for heaven thereby ; 
Nor yet because who love thee not 

Must bum eternally. 

Thou, O my Jesus, thou didst me 

Upon the cross embrace ; 
For me didst bear the nails and spear, 

And manifold disgrace, 

And griefs and torments numberless, 

And sweat of agony. 
E'en death itself : and all for me 

Who was thine enemy. 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL, 73 

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 lov^d 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. 



THOMAS A KEMPIS" HYMN. 

The life of Thomas a Kempis was a long solitude, 
and the known facts of his history are so few that they 
are easily told. He was born in 1380, in a village near 
Cologne. His surname was Hammerlein, or little Ham- 
mer, translated by the word Malleolus in Latin. Called 
of God to be a teacher of the experiences of a regenerate 
inner life, he was of as humble birth as the disciples of 
Galilee. " He was brought up," says one of his biogrs^- 
phers, " in poverty and hardship ; his father earned his 
bread by the sweat of his brow ; his mother assiduously 
watched over the education of her children ; she was 
always attentive to the concerns of the family, abste* 
mious, silent, and extremely modest." 

At the age of six he was placed in one of the houses 
belonging to the " Society of the Brothers and Sisters of 
Common Life," founded by Gerard de Groote. This was 

story of Hthim. 7 




74 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

a practical religious order, the members of which devoted 
themselves to the instruction of youth, and to the culti- 
vation of the mechanic arts. The whole Society had 
their property in common, but the members made no 
vow, and were at liberty to resign their places at their 
own discretion. It was in one of the schools of this So- 
ciety that Erasmus received his early education. 

The particular school in which Thomas d Kempis 
entered, was in the town of Daventer, in West Friesland, 
where he was under the instruction of Florentius, the 
immediate successor of Gerard de Groote, Florentius re- 
ceived him with warm affection into his own family, and 
gave him many valuable books, the perusal of which was 
the chief delight of his boyhood. " Much was I pleased,' 
says d Kempis, " with the devout conversation, the irre- 
proachable manners, and the humility of my brethren. 
I had never seen such piety and charity. They remained 
constantly at home, employed in prayer and study, or in 
copying useful books, and sanctifying this occupation by 
frequent ejaculations of devotion." 

A beautiful anecdote is associated with his student 
history, which ilUustrates his elevated piety. His pre- 
ceptor asked a class of which he was a member, " What 
passage of Scripture conveys the sweetest description of 
heaven ?" One answered, " There shall be no more 
sorrow." Another, "There shall be no more death." 
Another, "They shall see his face." But Thomas d 
Kempis, who was the youngest of all, said, " And his 
servants shall serve Him." 

The monks and the religious orders at this period 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 75 

were the book-makers, and it is through their patient toil 
that the best literary treasures of the past come down to 
us. The youth of Thomas a Kempis was spent in copy- 
ing useful books. "To transcribe works which Jesus 
Christ loves, by which the knowledge of him is diffused, 
is a most worthy employment. If he shall not lose his 
reward, who gives a cup of cold water to a thirsty neigh- 
bor, what will not be the reward of those, who, by put- 
ting good works into the hands of their neighbors, open 
to them the fountains of eternal life.? Blessed are the 
hands of the transcribers !'' Such was his view of the 
sacredness of his early calling. Not only the classical 
literature of Greece and Rome, but the precious pages of 
Holy Writ were transmitted from generation to genera- 
tion by these useful pens. 

At the age of nineteen, Thomas d Kempis, encour- 
aged to pursue the course by his preceptor Florentius, 
resolved to enter into the Order of the Monks of St. 
Augustin. "You must not suppose," said Florentius, 
" that a monastic life can be one of idleness. The good 
man's prayers must be incessant ; his fasts frequent ; 
his sleep short, and the whole of his spare time must be 
given to manual labor." Upon such a life Thomas d 
Kempis entered with the freshness of youth yet bloom- 
ing on his cheek. 

The story of his first appearance at the monastery is 
a pleasing one. It was at the town of ZwoU, on the banks 
of the Vecht. His brother John d Kempis, whom he 
had not seen for a long period, was the prior. At the 
door of the monastery he was met by this brother, who 



76 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

was deeply affected on learning his purpose to become a 
monk. After the salutation, the two brothers lifted up 
their voices in devout gratitude, saying : 

" Behold how good 
And how pleasant a thing it is 
For brethren to dwell together in unity. 

^ It is like precious ointment upon the head 
That ran down upon the beard, 
Aaron's beard, 
That went down to the skirts of his garments. 

" As the dew of Hermon, 
As the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion, 
For there the Lord commanded his blessing, 
Even life evermore." 

From the time of his vow to his decease, a period of 
sixty-six years, Thomas d Kempis lived in the monastery 
of ZwoU. His spiritual enjoyments were at first very 
great, but they were followed by deep inward conflicts 
which are described in his " Imitation of Christ." " By 
degrees," he said, " I was weaned from everything earth- 
ly and adhered to God alone. Then I experienced how 
sweet, how full of mercy God is to those who truly love 
him." Here he wrote numerous works, among them the 
lives of his preceptors. He acquired a reputation for 
uncommon sanctity, and it is said that when he sung in 
his divine office in the choir, his countenance had a ** holy 
radiance which filled the spectators with awe." But he 
was very humble, and always refused to entertain those 
who would do him honor, unless he could give them 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 77 

spiritual help. " I must leave you," he would say to vis- 
itors ; " there is some one waiting for me in my cell." 

Age at last put an end to his activities, and in the 
long calm twilight of life, he awaited the coming of his 
Lord. " I have sought for peace everywhere," he said 
in old age, " but I have found it nowhere except in a 
corner with a little book." He died on the 25th of July, 
147 1, in the 92d year of his age. 

The following poem, written in ripe experience, ex- 
presses his anticipation of heaven : 

HE A YEN'S JO YS. 

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 I holy!" singing 

To the mighty Trinity ! 
"Holy! holy! holy!" crying! 
For all earthly care and sighing 

In that city cease to be ! 

Every voice is there harmonious. 
Praising God in hymns symphonious ; 
Love each heart with light unfolding, 
As they stand in peace beholding 
There the Triune Deity ! 



78 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

Whom adore the seraphim 
Aye with love eternal burning ; 

Venerate the cherubim 
To their font of honor tiuning, 

While angelic thrones adoring 
Gaze upon his majesty. 

Oh how beautiful that region ! 
Oh how fair that heavenly legion ! 

Human souls and angels blend. 
Glorious will that city be, 
Full of deep tranquillity, 

Light and peace from end to end ! 
See the happy dwellers there 

Shine in robes of purity, 

Keep the laws of charity, 
Boimd in firmest unity ; 
Labor finds them not, nor care, 

Ignorance can ne'er perplex. 

Nothing tempt them, nothing vex ; 

Joy and health their fadeless blessing' 
^ Alwa3rs all good things possessing. 



SIR WALTER R A LEIGH" S HYMN. 

Few of the hymns of the Elizabethan era survive, 
though the Ambrosian Midnight Hymn, " Hark, 't is the 
Midnight Cry," and the hymns of St. Bernard, and Ber- 
nard of Cluny, are still tones in the church, and the reli- 
gious poetry of Sir Walter Raleigh comes down to us 
associated with the history of his brilliant, though sadly 
eclipsed career. The following poem has some fine lines 
in the quaint English style of the period, and was com- 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 79 

posed by Sir Walter Raleigh during his first impnson- 
ment: 

MY PILGRIMAGE. 

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. 

No cause deferred, no vain-spent journey, 
For there Christ is the King's attorney. 
Who pleads for all without degrees. 
And he hath angels, but no fees. 
And when the great twelve million jury 
Of our sins with direful fury 
'Gainst our souls black verdicts give, 
Christ pleads his death and then we live. 

Be thou my speaker, taintless Pleader, 
Unblotted lawyer, true Proceeder : 
Thou giv'st salvation even for alms. 
Not with a bribed lawyer's palms ; 
And this is my eternal plea, 
To him who made heaven, earth and sea. 

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 tfo more 



8o THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Fifteen years after the composition of this hymn, the 
brilliant courtier found himself again betrayed by ambi- 
tion, and again within the prison walls. On the night 
before his death he wrote the following lines in his Bible, 
which he left in the little room over the gatehouse, and 
which were much prized in their day : 

" Even such is time, that takes on trust 
Our youth, our joy, and all we have. 

And pays us but with earth and dust ; 
Who, in the dark and silent grave. 

When we have wandered all our ways, . 

Shuts up the story of our days : 

But from this earth, this grave, this dust, 

My God shall raise me up, I trust" 



GERHARDTS HYMN OF TRUST. 

Among the sweet strains of poetry which Schiller 
learned at his mother's knee, were the hymns of that 
much enduring Lutheran preacher, Paul Gerhardt. The 
young poet loved them ; they filled his mind with spirit- 
ual images, and lent an harmonious religious influence to 
his unformed genius. 

The influence was never lost : it lingered like rays of 
distant splendor amid the speculative mysteries that 
darkened his declining years, and haunted his dreams, 
when he saw the sun going down on Weimar, beautiful 
Weimar, for the last time. 

Gerhardt was a great sufferer in the cause of reformed 
faith, but his sufferings were in a measure compensated 
by the supports of human love. He was born in Saxony 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 8i 

He became a Christian pastor at the close of the Thirty 
Years* War, first at a small village called Mittenwalde, 
and subsequently at Berlin. In 1666, he was deposed 
from his spiritual office in Berlin on account of his firm 
adherence to the Lutheran doctrines. He received the 
reverse submissively, and said with characteristic lofti- 
ness of spirit, " I am willing to seal with my blood the 
evangelical truth, and offer my neck to the sword." 

Gerhardt had a lovely and amiable wife, whom he 
loved with more than ordinary devotion and tenderness. 
He himself was willing to endure evil speaking, hard- 
ship and trial, but it caused him severe pain to think 
that the burdens of his lot must fall upon her. 

A story is told of these altered days, which, although 
some recent writers have sought to prove it untrustwor- 
thy, pious Germans still love to repeat. 

He had been ordered to quit the country on account 
of the difference between his religious sentiments and 
those of the king. He went in reduced circumstances, 
with his wife travelling on foot. 

One night they came to a village inn. His wife, 
weary with the journey, and disheartened at her friend- 
less situation, sat down and began to weep. Behind her 
were the happy scenes of her youth ; before her was a 
land of strangers. 

The poet tried to comfort her, but the tears would flow. 

He reminded her of the verse in the Bible : " Com- 
mit thy way unto the Lord, trust also in him, and he will 
bring it to pass." " God will provide," he said. " Com- 
mit all of your sorrows into his hands." 



82 THE STOR V OF THE HYMNS. 

There was a garden near at hand, and in the garden 
an arbor. The poet left his weeping wife and went to 
the arbor for prayer. It was a lovely night in the rosy 
time of the year. The air was temperate, the sky serene ; 
the moon shimmered on the groves and was glassed on 
the waters. 

The poet's mind was in harmony with nature ; he felt 
a holy calm within, a perfect reliance on God. He be- 
gan to express his thoughts in verse : 

Commit thou all thy griefs 

And ways into His hands ; 
To his sure trust and tender care 

Who earth and heaven commands ; 
Who points the clouds their course, 

\Vhom wind and seas obey ; 
He shall direct thy wandering feet, 

He shall prepare thy way. 

Thou on the Lord rely, 

So, safe, shalt thou go on ; 
Fix on his work thy steadfast eye, 

So shall thy work be done. 
No profit canst thou gain 

By self-consuming care ; 
To him commend thy cause — his ear 

Attends thy softest prayer. 

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. 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 83 

He paused for a moment, and thought of his helpless- 
ness in a worldly point of view, and of his weeping wife. 
He then continued : 

Still heavy is thy heart ? 

Still sink thy spirits down ? 
Cast off the weight — let fear depart, 

And every care be gone. 
What though thou rules t not, 

Yet heaven, and earth, and hell. 
Proclaim — God sitteth on the throne, 

And ruleth all things well. 

Leave to his sovereign sway 

To choose and to command ; 
So shalt thou, wondering, own his way 

How wise, how strong his hand ! 
Far, far above thy thought 

His counsel shall appear. 
When fully he the work hath wrought 

That caused thy needless fear. 

That night two gentlemen came riding to the inn, 
and inquired for Paul Gerhardt, the Lutheran preacher 
and poet. 

"I am Paul Gerhardt," said the poet firmly, not 
knowing what new calamity might follow the confession. 

" We have come from Duke Christian," said the men, 
" who wishes us to express to you his sympathy in your 
persecutions and afflictions, and to invite you to come to 
Merseburg, and make that city your home." 

" God be praised," said the poet, looking upon the 
men more in the light of celestial messengers than de- 
spatch-bearers from an earthly court. " It is his will." 



84 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

'* He shall direct thy wandering feet, 
He shall prepare thy way." 

Gerhardt thanked the messengers with a heart full of 
emotion, tears filling his eyes. He went to his room 
with a beaming countenance, where his poor wife was 
trying with Christian confidence to restrain her feelings. 
He told her the news, and handed her the hymn he had 
written in the garden. " See," he said, " how God pro- 
vides. Did I not bid you trust in God, and all would be 
well ?" 

His wife opened the paper, and her eyes fell upon 
the poet's words written in the darkest hour of his life, 
when even her fortitude was giving way to despondency. 

" Commit thou all thy griefs 
And ways into His hands." 

Gerhardt died at the age of seventy. His last days 
were serene, and witnessed to the end the consolations 
of an all-victorious faith. He was spending the hour in 
holy exercises, and was in the act of repeating the lines, 

" Death has no power to kill, 
But from many a dreaded ill 
Bears the spirit safe away ;" 

when the heavenly summons came. 

We have said that Schiller loved the hymns of Ger- 
hardt, that he learned them in his boyhood, and that 
their influence lingered, tinging with a certain spiritual 
brightness the last poetic dreams of his life. But Schil- 
ler's faith was not clear. He, too, died repeating poetry, 
but not, like Gerhardt, with a triumphant expression of 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 85 

Christian confidence, but, like his own religious life, now 
gloomed, now shining, a poem of hope mingled with 
doubt and uncertainty : 

" From out this dim and gloomy hollow, 
Where hang the cold clouds heavily, 
Could I but gain the clew to follow. 
How blessed would that journey be. 

" Aloft I see a fair dominion, 

Through time and change all vernal still, 
But what the power, and where the pinion. 
To gain that ever-blooming hill ? 

" For lo ! between us rolls a river. 

O'er which a wrathful tempest raves ; 
• I feel the spirit shrink and shiver 
To gaze upon its gloomy waves !" 

The heavenly way, which, to Gerhardt, was one of 
excessive brightness, had a shadow for Schiller, even in 
life's sunset, but he still aspired for the religious faith of 
the great master of German sacred song. 

Another hymn by Gerhardt has many translations : 

Quietly rest the woods and dales, 
Silence around the earth prevails. 

The world is all asleep : 
Then, my soul, in thought arise, 
Seek thy Father in the skies. 

And holy vigils keep. 

Now my body seeks for rest. 
From its vestments all imdressed, 

Types of immortality : 
Christ shall give me soon to wear 
Garments beautiful and fair. 
White robes of majesty. 

8 



I 



86 THE STOR Y OF 2HE HYMNS. 

Weary limbs now rest ye here, 
Safe from danger and from fear, 

Seek slumber on this bed — 
Deeper rest ere long to share : 
Other hands shall soon prepare 

My couch among the dead. 

While my eyes I gently close, 
Stealing o'er me soft repose, 

Who shall now my guardian be ? 
Soul and body now I leave, 
And thou wilt the trust receive, 

IsraePs Watchman, unto thee. 

This is the favorite evening hymn in Germany. The 
same thoughts are expressed in Elder John Leiand's 
evening hymn, beginning, 

" The day has passed and gone, 
The evening shades appear; 
Oh, may we all remember well 
The night of death draws near. 

" We lay our garments by. 
Upon our beds to rest ; 
So death will soon disrobe us all 
Of what we here possess." 



KLOPSTOCICS HYMN. 

In an old churchyard in Ottensen, near the venera-' 
ble city of Hamburgh, stood a memorial stone, around 
which groups of thoughtful people used to gather in the 
soft twilights of the golden summer days. It marked the 
grave of a lady, famous both as the wife of an admired 




HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 87 

Christian poet, and as a model of intellectual loveliness 
and of simple, trustful religious faith. At the top of the 
antique memorial were carved two sheaves of wheat, one 
leaning on the other, and beneath the touching emblem 
was inscribed : 

" Seed sown by God, 
To ripen in the day of harvest. 

MARGARETTA KLOPSTOCK 
Waits where death is not, for her friend, her lover, her husband, 
whom she so much loves, and by whom she is so much beloved. 
But we shall rise from this grave, thou, my Klopstock, and I, and 
our son, for whom I died, to worship Him, who died, and was 
buried, and is risen." 

Margaretta MoUer was born March 19, 1728. She 
was the daughter of a Hamburgh merchant, and she re- 
ceived a liberal education. She possessed great beauty 
of mind and of character even in girlhood. Her aesthet- 
ic tastes predominated ; her thoughts were tinged with 
poetic fancy, and her heart was a pure fountain ever 
brimming with love. She was a pious maiden, and her 
dispositions were attuned in perfect harmony by the 
sweet influences of prayer. 

When verging on womanhood, she became enamored 
of the poetry of Klopstock. The Messiah^ as far as it 
was written, was passing through rapid editions, and the 
German Milton was in the zenith of his sudden and re- 
splendent fame. He was a stranger to Margaretta Mol- 
ler : she had never met with him, nor seen him, but she 
begun to take a mysterious interest in his history, and to 
find loving companionship in the creations of his muse. 
No music was so sweet to her as his mellifluous hexame- 



88 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

ters. As she dwelt on his sublime flights of seraph-like 
song, and caught new light from his luminous spirit, 
her affections began to be engaged in one whom she 
never saw, nor ever expected to see. She wrote in a 
letter to a friend : " In one happy night I read my husband's 
poem the Messiah, I was extremely touched with it. 
The next day I asked one of his friends who was the 
author of this poem ; and this was the first time I heard 
Klopstock's name." 

In 1751, Klopstock, having received an invitation 
from Frederick V. to visit the Danish court, set out for 
Copenhagen, and on his journey stopped at Hamburgh. 
He was informed of the interest that Miss MoUer took 
in his poetry, and learning something of her elegant taste 
and excellence of character, he made her a visit. Lava- 
ter, who was an enthusiastic admirer of the Messiah, calls 
Klopstock " that confidant of the angels." He was in- 
deed a most humble and exemplary man, and there were 
times of poetic inspiration, when his pure spirit seemed 
to gleam with seraphic fire. He united a masculine 
genius to a womanly tenderness of thought and feeling, 
and in disposition and tastes, he was a perfect counter- 
part of Margaretta MoUer. The meeting of these con- 
genial spirits could hardly fail to enkindle a flame of pure, 
trustful love. Klopstock went to the splendors of the 
Danish court, enamored of Meta, and Miss Moller de- 
clared after his departure that her thoughts were all of 
Klopstock. A correspondence followed, and in a year 
he again visited Hamburgh, when the happy lovers were 
betrothed. Two years afterwards they were married. 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 89 

The married life of Klopstock presents a scene of 
connubial felicity that seems more like a dream of ro- 
mance than sober reality. Accounts of it have been 
published in many tongues, and have added much to the 
high esteem in which he ever has been held as a Chris- 
tian and a man. She speaks of the union in her girlish 
way, in a letter, written not long before her decease: 
" We married, and I am the happiest wife in the world." 

The last cantos of the Messiah owe much of their 
peculiar beauty to the inspiration that Meta afforded the 
charming poet. In a letter dated Hamburgh, May 6, 
1758, she thus pictures the halcyon days of their literary 
life: 

" It will be a delightful occupation for me, to make you 
more acquainted with my husband's poem. Nobody can 
do it better than I, being the person that knows the 
most of that which is not yet published ; being always 
present at the birth of the young verses, which begin 
always by fragments here and there, of a subject of which 
his soul is just then filled. He has many great fragments 
of the whole work ready. You may think that persons 
who love as we do have no need of two apartments ; we 
are always in the same. I with my little work, still — 
still— only regarding sometimes my husband's sweet face, 
which is so venerable at that time ! with tears of devo- 
tion, and all the sublimity of the subject, my husband 
reading me his young verses and suffering my criticisms. 
Ten books are published, which I think probably the 
middle of the whole." 

In the autumn of 1758, she was about to become a 

8* 



90 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

mother. Her joy in prospect of the event is expressed 
in many delightful and exquisitely delicate passages in 
her correspondence. The union of the wedded pair 
never had been so spiritual and sympathetic as in these 
serene autumn days. Each lived for the happiness of 
the other, and both dwelt in the perpetual sunlight of God. 

But the light of Paradise was glimmering amid the 
sunbeams of these happy days. Meta Klopstock was 
treading the borders of the unseen world. After the 
birth of her child, her health sunk rapidly, and it became 
evident that her life was drawing to a close. 

Her death scene is one of the most beautiful in biog- 
raphy, and, perhaps, no one has touched upon it more 
tenderly than the great poet himsel£ He thus describes 
one of their last affecting interviews : " I came in just as 
she had been bled. A light having been brought near, 
I saw her face clearly for the first time after many hours. 
Ah, my Cramer, the hue of death was on it. But that 
God who was so mightily with her supported me tpo at 
the sight. I said, ' I will fulfil my promise, my Meta; ind 
tell you that your life, from extreme weakness, is in dan 
ger.' I pronounced over her the name of the Father/ 
the Son, and the Holy Ghost. ' Now the will of Him 
who inexpressibly supports thee, his will be done !' ' Let 
him do according to his will,' said she ; * He will do well.' 
She said this is a most sweet, expressive tone of joy and 
confidence. * You have endured like an angel ; God has 
been with you ; he will be with you. His mighty name 
be praise. The Most Merciful will support you.' ' Be my 
guardian angel, if our God permit' * Who would not be 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 91 

so ?* said she. At parting she said to me very sweetly, 
Thou wilt follow me.' 

" Shortly after her release, I wished to see what I 
had just before called my Meta. They prevented me. 
I said to one of our friends, * Then I will forbear. She 
will rise again^ " 

The great poet yielded to no weak repinings in these 
altered days. Heaven to him brightened with new at- 
tractions, and his soul was filled with ineffable delight in 
his religious contemplations and devotions. Of one of 
these seasons of spiritual elevation he writes : 

" The second night came the blessing of her death. 
Till then I had looked upon it only as a trial. The 
blessing of such a death in its full power came on me. 
I passed above an hour in silent rapture. The highest 
degree of peace with which I am acquainted was in my soul. 

" It is impossible to describe all the blessings of that 
hour. I was never before with such certainty convinced 
of my salvation." 

Happy soul ! Of himself he could say in the hour of 
his desolation, " I know that my Redeemer liveth," and 
of Meta, " She will rise again." 

THOU SHALT RISE. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF KLOPSTOCK. 

Thou shalt rise ! my dust, thou shalt arise ! 
Not always closed thine eyes : 

Thy life's first Giver 

Will give thee life for ever, 

Ah ! praise his name ! 



92 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Sown in darkness, but to bloom again. 
When, after winter's reign, 
Jesus is reaping 
The seed now quietly sleeping. 
^ Ah ! praise his name ! 

Day of praise ! for thee thou wondrous day, 

In my quiet grave I stay ; 
And when I number 
My days and nights of slumber. 
Thou wakest me ! 

Then, as they who dream, we shall arise 

With Jesus to the skies, 

And find that morrow. 
The weary pilgrim's sorrow 
All past and gone ! 

Then, with the Holiest I tread. 
By my Redeemer led, 

Through heaven soaring. 

His holy name adoring 
Eternally ! 



SAMUEL RUTHERFORD. 

The expression 

" But glory, glory dwelleth 
In ImmanuePs land," 

has been often quoted, and the hymn to which these 
lines are the refrain has come into general .use. The 
hymn as printed in the hymn-books is but a fragment 
of a long poem. It has a beautiful origin and an inter- 
esting history. 

Samuel Rutherford was a Scotch divine at Anworth, 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 93 

and because of his fidelity to the doctrines of the reformed 
faith, was immured in the dungeons of St Andrew 

" For Anworth was not heaven, 
And preaching was not Christ." 

He remained true to his convictions of duty to the last, 
and died in triumph. His last words were : " Glory, 
glory dwelleth in ImmanueVs land!" This expression 
forms the refrain of the following very tender religious 
ballad, which we reproduce entire : 

The sands of time are sinking. 

The dawn of heaven breaks, 
The summer morn I 've sighed for — 

The fair, sweet mom — awakes. 
Dark, dark hath been the midnight, 

But dayspring is at hand ; 
And glory, glory dwelleth 

In ImmanuePs 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 ImmanuePs land. 

There the red Rose of Sharon 

Unfolds its heartsome bloom. 
And fills the air of heaven 

With ravishing perfume ; 
Oh ! to behold it blossom, 

While by its fragrance fanned. 
Where glory, glory dwelleth. 

In ImmanuePs land ! 



94 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

The King there, in his beauty, 

Without a veil is seen ; 
"It were a well-spent journey, 

Though seven deaths lay between." 
The Lamb with his feiir army 

Doth on Mount Zion stand. 
And glory, glory dwelleth 

In ImmanuePs land. 



O Christ — He is the fountain, 

The deep, sweet well of love ! 
The streams on earth I *ve tasted. 

More deep I '11 drink above : 
There to an ocean fulness 

His mercy doth expand, 
And glory, glory dwelleth 

In ImmanueFs land. 

Oft in yon sea-beat prison 

My Lord and I held tryst ; 
For Anworth was not heaven. 

And preaching was not Christ 
And aye my murkiest storm-cloud 

Was by a rainbow spanned. 
Caught from the glory dwelling 

In Immanuel's land. 

But that he built a heaven 

Of his surpassing love — 
A little New Jerusalem 

Like to the one above — 
" Lord, take me o*er the water," 

Had been my loud demand ; 
" Take me to love*s own country 

Unto Immanuel's land !** 




HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 95 

But flowers need night's cool darkness, 

The moonlight, and the dew ; 
So Christ, from one who loved it, 

His shining oft withdrew. 
. And then for cause of absence 

My troubled soul I scanned ; 
But glory shadeUss shineth 

In ImmanuePs 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 aroimd them stand : 
For glory deathless dwelleth 

In ImmanuePs land. 

Fair Anworth by the Solway, 

To me thou still art dear ; 
E'en from the verge of heaven 

I drop for thee a tear. 
Oh, if one soul from Anworth 

Meet me at God's right hand, 
My heaven will be two heavens, 

In ImmanuePs land. 

I 've wrestled on toward heaven, 

'Gainst storm, and wind, and tide ; 
Now, like a weary traveller 

That leaneth on his guide. 
Amid the shades of evening. 

While sinks life's lingering sand, 
I hail the glory dawning 

From Immanuel's land. 



96 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

Deep waters crossed life's pathway, 

The hedge of thorns was sharp ; 
Now these lie all behind me. 

Oh, for a well tuned harp ! 
Oh, to join Hallelujah i 

With yon triumphant band, 
Who sing where glory dwelleth. 

In Immanuel's land ! 



With mercy and with judgment 

My web of time he wove, 
And aye the dews of sorrow 

Were lustered with his love. 
I '11 bless the hand that guided, 

I '11 bless the heart that planned, 
When throned where glory dwelleth, 

In ImmanueFs land. 



Soon shall the cup of glory 

Wash down earth's bitterest woes ; 
Soon shall the desert brier 

Break into Eden's rose ; 
The curse shall change to blessing, 

The name on earth that 's banned 
Be graven on the White Stone 

In Immanuel's land. 

Oh, I am my Beloved's, 

And my Beloved is mine ! 
He brings a poor vile sinner 

Into his " house of wine." 
I stand upon his merit; 

I know no safer stand. 
Not even where glory dwellelli, 

In Immanuel's land. 



Ptnry of nyniTiii. 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 97 

I shall sleep sound in Jesus, 

Filled with his likeness rise, 
To love and to adore him, 

To see him with these eyes ; 
*Tween me and resurrection 

But Paradise doth stand, 
Then — then for glory, dwelling 

In Immanuel's land ! 



The bride eyes not her garments, 

But her dear bridegroom's face : 
I will not gaze at glory. 

But at my King of grace ; 
Not at the crown he giveth, 

But on his pierced hand : 
The Lamb is all the glory 

Of 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 seal 's 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. 
9 



I 



98 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

ADDISON'S TEA VELLER'S HYMN. 

How are thy servants blessed, O Lord, 

How sure is their defence ! 
Eternal Wisdom is their guide. 

Their help Omnipotence. 

In foreign realms, and lands remote. 

Supported by thy care. 
Through burning climes they pass unhurt, 

And breathe in tainted air. 

When by the dreadful tempest borne 

High on the broken wave. 
They know thou art not slow to hear. 

Nor impotent to save. 

The storm is laid, the winds retire. 

Obedient to thy will ; 
The sea, that roars at thy command. 

At thy command is still. 

In midst of dangers, fears, and deaths. 

Thy goodness we *11 adore ; 
We 'U praise thee for thy mercies past, 

And humbly hope for more. 

Our life, while thou preserv'st that life, 

Thy sacrifice shall be : 
And death, when death shall be our lot, 

Shall join our souls to thee. 

This hymn, often used in divine worship by travellers, 
was first published in No. 489 of the " Spectator," for 
Sept. 20, 1712. The article to which it is appended is 
on the sublimity of the sea, and the passages that de- 
scribe the majestic phenomena of the deep in Holy 
Writ. It was doubtless written while the ocean scenery 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 



99 



was fresh in the author's mind, and is a choice expression 
of a peculiar Christian experience. It is claimed that 
Addison wrote this piece immediately after his conti- 
nental tour in 1 700-1. The original has a fine stanza 
that is commonly omitted : 

" Thy mercy sweetened every soil, 
Made every region please, 
The hoary Alpine hills it warmed, 
And smoothed the Tyrrhene seas." 



COUNT ZINZENDORF'S HYMN 

J. WESLEY'S TRANSLATION. 

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 — 
Froni sin and fear, from guilt and shame. 

The holy, meek, unspotted Lamb, 
Who from the Father's bosom came — 
Who died for me, e'en me t' atone — 
Now for my Lord and God I own. 

Lord, I believe thy precious blood — 
Which, at the mercy-seat of God 
For ever doth for sinners plead — 
For me, e'en for my soul, was shed. 

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. 



\ 



loo THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

When from the dust of death I rise 
To claim my mansion in the skies, 
E'en then shall this be all my plea, 
Jesus hath lived and died for me. 

The first stanza of the above hymn is very well 
known in Germany, and is there frequently quoted at 
deathbeds, as Dr. Watts' stanza, beginning, 

" Jesus can make a dying bed/ 

is quoted in the English tongue. The sentiment in the 
fourth and fifth stanzas was particularly acceptable to the 
primitive Methodists. 

The hymn, which in the original has thirty stanzas, 
was written by Count Zinzendorf, (i7CX>-i76o,) one of 
the purest and most spiritual of men, the founder of the 
religious community of Herrnhut, and the champion and 
defender of the United Moravian Brethren. 

His childhood was remarkable for its confiding sim- 
plicity and the beauty of piety. He used to gather chil- 
dren to pray with him, and his pure and aspiring imagi- 
nation found delight in writing messages of love to the 
Saviour. Referring to his youthful days and the purity 
of his motives, he says: "The desire to bring souls to 
Jesus took possession of me, and my heart became fixed 
on the Lamb." 

From his eleventh to his sixteenth year, Zinzendorf 
studied at Halle, under the pietist Franke, the founder 
of the celebrated orphan school. He travelled widely, 
obtained great learning, and a large knowledge of so- 
ciety. Be became in early life enamored of Theodosia. 
the daughter of the Countess of Castell, but from a 




/■<!., L 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. loi 

strong sense of duty, resigned his place in her heart to 
the reigning Count of Reussebersdorf. " From that mo- 
ment," he said to Charles Wesley, of this act of self-sac- 
rifice, " I was freed from all self-seeking, so that for ten 
years I have not done my own will in anything, gheat or 
small. My own will is hell to me." 

In 1 73 1 Count Zinzendorf resigned all public duties, 
and the encumbrances that follow rank, to devote himself 
to the service of the Moravian Brethren. He travelled 
extensively in their behalf, extending his journeys to 
America, where he labored more than a year in Penn- 
sylvania. He wrote many works, and two thousand 
hymns. Among his last words were, "I am going to 
my Saviour." 

His hymn, beginning, 

"Jesus, thy blood and righteousness," 

was written on the island of St. Eustatius, on his return 
from visiting the missionaries in the West Indies. He 
was filled at the time with a large missionary spirit, and 
a lofty religious confidence, as the hymn itself strongly 
evidences. 

LADY HUNTINGDON'S HYMN 

Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, the friend of White- 
field, devoted her time and fortune to the welfare of others. 
In her maidenhood she heard her sister-in-law, Lady Mar- 
garet Hastings, remark, that since she had known and 
believed in the Lord Jesus Christ for life and salvation, 
she had been as happy as an angel. 

This remark made an impression upon her mind. It 

9* 



102 THE STOR V OF THE HYMNS. 

led her to desire to become a follower of Christ, and after- 
wards resulted in her belief in him as her Saviour. Her 
after-life was very attractive in the devoted piety that 
she exhibited by her unwearied usefulness. She erected 
chapels at her own expense, and lived abstemiously that 
she might give more money to the poor and advance 
the religion of her Master. 

Her religious experience was continuous, and was 
sanctified by affliction : 

" The world can neither give, nor take. 
Nor can they comprehend 
The peace of God, which Christ has bought — 
The peace which knows no end. 

" The burning bush was not consumed. 
While God remained there ; 
The three, when Jesus made the Fourth, 
Found fire as soft as air. 

" 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 imto the end." 

She died at the age of eighty-four. A year before 
her death she met with an accident, which was the be- 
ginning of her last illness. Although in great pain, her 
mind was at perfect peace. As death drew near, she 
often said, with emphasis, "The coming of the Lord 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 103 

draweth nigh ! The thought fills me with joy unspeak- 
able !" 

Here was the ground of her hopes and her happiness : 
" I see," she said, " myself a poor worm, drawing near to 
Jesus. What hope could I entertain if I did not know 
the efficacy of his blood ? How little could anything 
that I have done give a moment's rest at such an hour 
as this ! I confess I have no hope but that which inspired 
the dying malefactor at the side of my Lord, and I must 
be saved in the same way, as freely, as fully, or not at all." 

New views and revelations came to her in her tri- 
umph over the terrors of death. " I cannot tell you," 
she said, " in what light I now see these words : * If a 
man love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will 
love him, and we will come unto him, and make our 
abode with him.' To have in this room such company, 
and to have such an eternal prospect ! I see this subject 
now in a light impossible to be described. I know my 
capacity will be then enlarged, but I am now as sensible 
of the presence of God, as I am of the presence of those 
I have with me." 

Her dying testimony was a fitting close to so grand 
an earthly life. 

" My work is done ; I have nothing to do but to go 
to my Father !" 

Lady Huntingdon's motives were very pure and sin- 
cere, and she ruled her life by secret self-examination, 
living always with eternity in view. Her best known 
hymn has reference to this constant aim to keep a blame- 
less conscience in the sight of God. 



104 ^H^ STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

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 shall 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 'U sing. 
While heaven's resounding arches ring 
With shouts of sovereign grace. 



JOHN WESLEY'S HYMN 

How happy is the pilgrim's lot ; 
How free from every anxious thought, 

From worldly hope and fear ! 
Conj&ned to neither court nor cell. 
His soul disdains on earth to dwell. 

He only sojourns here. 




< 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 105 

This happiness in part is mine, 
Already saved from low design, 

From every creature-love ; 
Blest with the scorn of j&nite good, 
My soul is lightened of its load. 

And seeks the things above. 

The things eternal I pursue. 
My happiness beyond the view 

Of those who basely pant ; 
The things by nature felt and seen. 
Their honors, wealth, and pleasures mean, 

I neither have nor want 

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. 

I come, thy servant. Lord, replies ; 
I come to meet thee in the skies. 

And claim my heavenly rest 1 
Soon will the pilgrim's journey end ; 
Then, O my Saviour, Brother, Friend, 

Receive me to thy breast ! 

This hymn, which we give as we find it in many col- 
lections, but which is greatly extended by the narration 
of personal circumstances in the original, was written by 
John Wesley, at the most stormy and tempestuous period 
of his life, when his lot from a worldly point of view 
would have been deemed anything but happy. 

On February 17, 1746, when days were short and 
weather far from favorable, he set out on horseback from 



io6 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Bristol to Newcastle, a distance between three and four 
hundred miles. The journey occupied ten weary 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 Straffordshire, 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 New- 
castle, February 26, "free from every anxious thought," 
and " every worldly fear." 

It was amid such scenes as these that the hymn was 
written, though we have not the exact date. 

The hymn in the original is autobiographical. Wes- 
ley had at the time of writing it no wife, and he held no 
property, having made over his estates to trustees. He 

says, 

" I have no babes to hold me here. 
But children more sincerely dear 

Than mine I humbly claim, 
Better than daughters or than sons. 
Temples divine of living stones, 
Inscribed in Jesus* name. 

^^ No foot of land do I possess. 
No cottage in the wilderness ; 

A poor wa)rfaring man, 
I lodge awhile in tents below, 
Or gladly wander to and fro, 

Till I my Canaan gain." 

John Wesley was disposed to lightly regard all of the 
scenes of distressing self-sacrifice associated with his 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL, 107 

itinerant labors. After a most calamitous journey, he 
once was known to declare : 

** Pain, disappointment, sickness, strife. 
Whatever molests or troubles life, 
When past, as nothing we esteem, 
And pain like pleasure is a dream.'' 



CHARLES WESLEY'S WATCH-NIGHT HYMNS. 

Wesley concluded the eventful year of 1740 at Bris- 
tol, by holding a watch-meeting, proposed by James 
Rogers, a Kingswood collier, noted among his neighbors 
for his playing on the violin, but who, being awakened 
under the ministry of Charles Wesley, went home, burnt 
his fiddle, and told his wife he meant to seek religion. 

This was the first watch-night meeting among the 
Methodists. The people met at half-past eight: the 
house was filled from end to end, and '* we concluded the 
year," says Wesley, "wrestling with God in prayer, and 
praising him for the wonderful work which he had al- 
ready wrought upon the earth." 

The meeting became a favorite one and was held 
monthly. The church in ancient times was accustomed 
to spend whole nights in prayer, which nights were 
termed vigilics or vigils : and sanctioned by such au- 
thority, Wesley appointed monthly watch-nights, on the 
Friday nearest the full moon, desiring that they, and they 
only should attend, who could do so without prejudice to 
their business or families. 

The annual watch-night services on New Year's eves, 



€ 



io8 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

appointed by the Wesleys, had been continued by the 
Wesleyan societies. Charles Wesley wrote, both for the 
monthly watch-night, and for the annual watch-night, a 
number of hymns whose sublime and solemn language 
is in harmony with the impressive and somewhat poe- 
tic occasions that inspired them. One of these begins, 
** Ye virgin souls, arise." 
Another : 

How many pass the guilty night, 

In revelling and frantic mirth ! 
The creature is their sole delight — 

Their happiness the things of earth : 
For us suffice the season past : 
We choose the better part at last. 

We will not close our wakeful eyes, 

We will not let our eyelids sleep, 
But humbly lift them to the skies. 

And all a solemn vigil keep ; 
So many nights on sin bestowed, 
Can we not watch one hour for God ? 

WA TCH'NIGHT. 

How happy, gracious Lord, are we. 
Divinely drawn to follow thee, 

Whose hours divided are 
Betwixt the mount and multitude : 
Our day is spent in doing good. 

Our night in praise and prayer. 

With us no melancholy void, 
No moment lingers unemployed 

Or unimproved below : 
Our weariness of life is gone. 
Who lived to serve our God alone, 

And only thee to know. 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 109 

The winter's night and summer's day 
Glide imperceptibly away, 

Too short to sing thy praise ; 
Too few we find the happy hours, 
And haste to join those heavenly bowers 

In everlasting lays. 

With all who chant thy name on high, 
And, Holy, holy, holy ! crj', 

(A bright, harmonious throng) 
We long thy praises to repeat. 
And ceaseless sing around thy seat 

The new eternal song. 



NEW YEAR'S VIGIL, 

Come, let us anew our journey pursue, 

Roll round with the year. 
And never stand still till the Master appear. 
His adorable will let us gladly fulfil. 

And our talents improve. 
By the patience of hope, and the labor of love. 

Our life is a dream ; our time, as a stream, 

Glides swiftiy away, 
And the fugitive moment refuses to stay. 
The arrow is flown — the moment is gone ; 

The millennial year 
Rushes on to our view, and eternity 's here. 

thit each, in the day of his coming, may say — 

I have fought my way through : 

1 have finished the work thou didst give me to do. 

Oh that each from his Lord^may receive the glad word- 
Well and faithfully done ! 
Enter into my joy, and sit down on my throne. 

10 



no THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

CHARLES WESLEY'S HYMN IN TIME OF TROUBLE. 

Early in the year 1750, the city of London was 
twice severely shaken by shocks of an earthquake. Sev- 
eral weeks elapsed between the first and second con- 
vulsions, during which interim, the earth seems to 
have been internally agitated. The public mind was un- 
settled with apprehension, and the parks and squares, 
where the people were wont to assemble, presented at 
times a very impressive spectacle. 

For several years after the threatened calamity at 
London, the earth seemed to be in trouble. The stroke 
came at last, but it fell Upon the South, upon Lisbon and 
Quito. The work of destruction in these two cities 
indicates the magnitude of the calamity to which the 
great centre of life on the eastern isle seemed to be 
exposed. 

George Whitefield and Charles Wesley were in Lon- 
don during these days of peril. Seldom, if ever, had 
these zealous men preached so acceptably as they did 
then. The most profane were overawed by the danger 
and sublimity of the situation, and the most hardened 
and unbelieving were eager to listen to the doctrine of 
God*s providence, and to the promises of the gospel. 
Mr. Whitefield once preached a sermon at midnight to 
an immense concourse of people in Hyde Park, who 
seemed to receive the truth as from the very brink of 
eternity. The effect was impressive in the extreme. 
Cries and groans were heard on every hand. Penitent 
ejaculations and prayers for mercy trembled on every lip. 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 1 1 1 

The following extracts from a letter, written at Lon- 
don at this time, afford a brief but interesting view of 
the agitated city : 

" All London has been, for some days past, under terri- 
ble apprehensions of another earthquake. Yesterday thou- 
sands fled from the town, it having been confidently predict- 
ed by a dragoon that he had a revelation that a great part 
of the city, and Westminster especially, would be de- 
stroyed by an earthquake on the 4th instant, between 
twelve and one at night. The whole city was under 
direful apprehensions. Places of worship were crowded 
with frightened sinners, especially our two chapels, and 
the tabernacle, where Mr. Whiteficld preached. Several 
of the classes came to their leaders, and desired that 
they would spend the night with them in prayer ; which 
was done, and God gave them a blessing. Indeed all 
around was awful. Being not at all convinced of the 
prophet's mission, and having no call from any of my 
brethren, I went to bed at my usual time, believing I 
was safe in the hands of Christ ; and likewise, that, by 
doing so, I should be the more ready to rise to the 
preaching in the morning; which I did, praise be to 
my kind protector. 

♦ ♦♦♦♦ «««« 

" Though crowds left the town on Wednesday night, 
yet crowds were left behind ; multitudes of whom, for 
fear of being suddenly overwhelmed, left their houses, 
and repaired to the fields, and open places in the city. 
Tower Hill, Moorfields, but above all, Hyde Park, were 
filled the best part of the night, with men, women, and 



/ 



113 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

children, lamenting. Some, with stronger imaginations 
than others, mostly women, ran crying in the streets, 
* An earthquake ! an earthquake !' Such distress, per- 
haps, is not recorded to have happened before in this 
careless city. Mr. Whitefield preached at midnight in 
Hyde Park. Surely God will visit this city ; it will be 
a time of mercy to some. Oh may I be found watch- 
ing! 

An incident occurred at this time which we have fre- 
quently called to mind as a very impressive illustration 
of what is termed the majesty of faith. The second 
shock of the earthquake occurred on the morning of the 
8th of March. At an early hour, Rev. Charles Wesley 
appeared before a great audience who had assembled at 
the foundry to listen to a morning discourse. He was 
about to begin his sermon, when a subterranean thunder- 
ing was heard and the whole city began to shake and 
totter. The foundry reeled to and fro and seemed every 
moment about to fall. The worshippers shrieked, and 
each one felt that his hour had come. The soul of the 
preacher at this critical juncture seemed touched with an 
inspiration as from on high. With a face glowing with 
triumph, and an eye flashing as with ethereal fire, he 
raised his hands and uttered the sublime language of the 
Psalmist : " Therefore we will not fear, though the earth 
be removed, and the mountains be carried into the midst of 
the sea. The Lord of hosts is with us, the God of Jacob 
is our refuge !" 

The entry in his journal for that date was as fol- 
lows : 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 1 13 

" March 8, 1750, This morning, a quarter after five, 
we had another shock of an earthquake far more violent 
than that of February 8. I was just repeating my text, 
when it shook the foundry so violently, that we all ex- 
pected it to fall on our heads. A great cry followed 
from the women and children. I immediately called 
out, 'Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be 
moved, and the mountains be carried into the midst of the 
sea. The Lord of hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is 
our refuge.' He filled my heart with faith, and my mouth 
with words, shaking their souls as well as their bodies. 
The earth moved westward, then eastward, then westward 
again, through all London and Westminster. It was a 
strong and jarring motion, attended with a rumbling 
noise like that of thunder." 

The faith that could stand unmoved at such an hour 
would triumph amid the wreck of matter and the crush 
of worlds. 

This anecdote of the zealous preacher seems to us 
interesting for the information it imparts. It gives us a 
certain feeling of confidence when singing the lyrics of 
Dr. Watts, to recall that he himself felt all of those sweet 
consolations of which he so fervently wrote. Charles 
Wesley composed very numerous hymns on the tri- 
umphs of faith, a number of which are to be found in 
almost every work of psalmody. It is edifying to know 
that he himself was an example of that all-conquering 
faith to which he devoted his pen. 

He thus alludes to the events we have described in 

some lines written in 1755. 

10* 



I 



n 



THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

How happy are the little flock, 

Who, e^e beneath their guardian-rock 

In all commotions rest ! 
When war's and tumult's waves run high, 
Unmoved, above the storm they lie, 

They lodge in Jesus' breast. 

The plague, the dearth, the din of war. 
Our Saviour's swift approach declare. 

And bid our hearts arise; 
Earth's basis shook confiims our hope ; 
Its cities' fall but lifts us up 

To meet him in the skies. 

The tokens we with joy confess : 

The war proclaims the Prince of Peace, 

The earthquake speaks his power, 
The famine all his fulness brings ; 
The plague presents his healing wings. 

And nature's final hour. 

Whatever ills the world befall 
A pledge of endless good we call, 

A sign of Jesus near ; 
His chariot will not long delay; 
Wc hear the rambling wheels, and pray — ■ 

Triumphant Lord, appear ! 



LANGHORN'S "IT IS TOLD ME I MUST DIE." 
Fragments of a somewhat remarkable poem have 
been for a long period floating about in literature, and 
inquiries have frequently been made in regard to their 
authorship and origin. One of these fragments is enti- 
tled, " It is told me I must die." 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 115 

In order to understand the poem, it will be necessary 
to review a somewhat tragic chapter of English history^ 
known as the Popish Plot. 

This popular madness was incited partly by the in- 
trigues of Rome, and a remembrance of papal persecu- 
tions in the past, and partly by one of the most corrupt 
and infamous men on record, Titus Oates. He was 
bom in 1620, was educated at Cambridge, took orders, 
but soon lost his curacies by lying, perjury, and gross 
misbehavior. He received an appointment as chaplain 
in the navy, but was dismissed for disgraceful conduct 
He then became a Catholic, went to Spain, but was 
shortly expelled by the Jesuits. 

In September, 1667, he made a disclosure before Sir 
Edward Godfrey, a noted justice, and afterwards before 
the Council and the House of Commons, to the effect 
that the Catholics had entered into a conspiracy against 
the life of the king, in order to reestablish the papal power 
in England. Lord Arundel, he said, was to be chancel- , 
lor of the new government ; Lord Powis, treasurer ; 
Lord Bellasis, general of the papal army, and Coleman, 
secretary of state. The office of advocate-general he 
assigned to Richard Langhorn, the subject of this paper. 

All England was thrown into a state of intense ex- 
citement by this disclosure, and the fame of Titus Oates 
flashed forth to blaze "the comet of a season." "The 
capital and the whole nation," says Macaulay, "went 
mad with hatred and fear. London had the aspect of a 
city in a state of siege. Patrols marched up and down 
the streets. Cannon were planted around Whitehall. 



ii6 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

No citizen thought himself safe unless he carried under 
his coat a small flail, loaded with lead, to brain the assas- 
sins." Oates rose from beggary to sudden wealth, and 
assumed a grandeur of living becoming a prince. He 
went around with a retinue of guards. He received an 
ample pension, and was assigned lodgings at Whitehall. 
He put on the Episcopal gown and cassock, and claimed 
and received the title of the " Saviour of the Nation." 
" Whoever he pointed at," says Roger North, "^^s taken 
up and committed." He had the nation in his hands, 
and for weeks of popular blindness, excitement and prej- 
udice, he exercised an even greater influence than the 
king. He was the real sovereign of the JEnglish nation. 

The state trials growing out of the so-called Popish 
Plot, are among the most interesting in history. Among 
these, with the exception of that of Lord Stafford, none 
are more interesting than that of Richard Langhorn. 
It took place on the 14th of June, 1679, ^^d, although 
the testimony of Oates was again and again proven false, 
Langhom's case was prejudged; he was convicted of 
high treason, and sentenced to be executed. 

Langhorn, though by birth and education a Catholic, 
was a man of moderate views and deep spiritual feelings. 
Few men were ever more unjustly accused or more 
hastily condemned. 

It was midsummer, a calm July day, and a great con- 
course of people came together to see Richard Langhorn 
hung. He ascended the scaffold as one would go to a 
coronation. With a bearing which told that every word 
he uttered was true, he said, " I do declare, in the pres- 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. ii; 

ence of the eternal God, and as I hope to be saved by 
the merits of my dear Jesus, that I am not guilty, direct- 
ly or indirectly, of any crime that has been sworn against 
me/' He declared further that the testimony of Mr. 
Oates against him was wholly false, and that he forgave 
him with his dying breath, and hoped that God would 
bring him to repentance. He prayed for the king, the 
nation, and for all his enemies and false accusers. He 
forgave the sheriff after the rope had been adjusted. 
His last prayer and last words were, "Blessed Jesus, 
into thy hands I recommend my soul and spirit, now, at 
this instant. Take me into paradise." He added, " I 
am desirous to be with my Jesus. I am ready, and you 
need stop no longer for me." 

Langhorn desired to be left entirely by himself in his 
last days, that he might give his time to meditation, wri- 
ting, and acts of devotion. These days were passed on 
the heavenly border. The glory of the celestial world 
seemed already shining about him. His soul was im- 
mersed in the love of God. 

It was thus in the solitude of his cell that he com- 
posed the irregular poem to which we have alluded. It 
is a most triumphant witness to the all-conquering power 
of the Christian faith. It is as follows : 

IT IS TOLD ME I MUST DIE. 

It is told me I must die. 
Oh, happy news ! 
Come on, my dearest soul, 
Behold thy Jesus calls thee. 
He prayed for thee upon his cross, 



1 18 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

There he extended his arms to receive thee, 
There he bowed down his head to kiss thee, 
There he cried out with a powerful voice, 
" Father, receive him, he is mine 1" 
There he opened his heart to give thee entrance. 
There he gave up his life to purchase life for thee ! 

It is told me I must die. 

Oh blessed news ! 
I must quit 

Earth for heaven, 

My earthly prison for a liberty of joy; 

My banishment for my country 
Prepared for me. 
I must pass 

From time to eternity; 

From misery to felicity ; 

From change to immutability ; 

From death to immortality. 
I must leave what I possess on earth, 

To possess my God ; 
To enjoy my Jesus ; 

To converse with angels and saints. 
I must go to fill 

My spirit with a plenitude of light ; 

My will with a fulness of peace ; 

My memory with a collection of all good ; 

My senses with a satiety of pleasures. 
I must go where I shall find 

All things which I can desire. 

Nothing that I fear. 
I shall no more want any good ; 

God shall be unto me all in all, 

And my all to all eternity. 

It is told me I must die. 
Oh what happiness ! 



HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL. 119 

I am going 
To the place of my rest ; 
To the land of the living ; 
To the haven of security ; 
To the kingdom of peace ; 
To the palace of my God ; 
To the nuptials of the Lamb ; 
To sit at the table of my King ; 
To feed on the bread of angels ; 
To see what no eye hath seen ; 
To hear what no ear hath heard ; 
To enjoy what the heart of man cannot comprehend. 

It is told me I must die. 

Oh news of joy 1 
Let us go, my soul, I am content ; 

I joyfully renounce this life. 
And render it back to Him who gave it me. 
I am willing to die 

For his glory, 

For his love, 

Out of gratitude for his favors, 

And to satisfy his justice. 
I am willing to die for him as he died for me : 

I am willing to die, 

To see my Jesus, 

To love my Jesus, 

To bless my Jesus, 
And to sing his praises to all eternity. 
Come on, my soul, let us go and rejoice. 

He who by his grace 

Hath enabled thee to know 

Thy own miseries. 

And his mercies. 
He who hath enabled thee 

To rely on him, 
Commands thee to shake off all fear. 



i 



120 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

It is not for anything in thee 

That he loves thee and will save thee. 

He doth it because he is God, 

Perfect love and perfect goodness. 
Oh my Father, 
Oh thou best of all fathers, 
Have pity on the most wretched of all thy children. 
I was lost, but by thy mercy found ; 
I was dead, but by thy mercy raised again. 
I was gone astray after vanity, 
But am now ready to appear before thee. 

Oh my Father, 
Come now in mercy receive thy child : 
Give him thy kiss of peace ; 
Remit unto him all his sins ; 
Clothe him with thy nuptial robe ; 
Receive him into thy house ; 
Permit him to have a place at thy feast, 
And forgive all those who are guilty of his death. 

The name of Langhom well deserves a place among 
those worthies who, although associated by the influ- 
ences of birth, education, and the force of circumstances 
with a corrupt church, have so fully relied on Christ as 
to keep their spiritual perceptions undimmed. "Thou 
hast a few names even in Sardis, which have not defiled 
their garments: and they shall walk with me in white; 
for they are worthy." 




III. SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 



i. lord, dismiss us with thy blessing. 

2. peace, troubled soul 

3. sweet the moments rich in blessing. 

4. wa tciiman, tell us of the night 

5. while thee i seek, protecting power. 

6. hark, the voice of love and mercy, 

7. when marshalled on the nightl y plain. 

8. while with ceaseless course the sun. 

9l on the mountain-top appearing. 

la if i must die, oh, let me die trusting in 
jesus' blood, 

ii, awake my soul, lv joyful lays. 



— 1 

fetorjr oT Rj-miM. 1 Jl 



4 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 



''SWEET THE MOMENTS, RICH IN BLESSING:' 

The personal history of few writers of popular hymns 
is so little known at the present time, as that of Sir 
Walter Shirley, author of " Sweet the moments, rich 
in blessing," " Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive 
moan," and "Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing." 
And yet the lives of few hymn-writers abound with 
more impressive and highly interesting incidents. Shir- 
ley wrote but few hymns, but these have a popularity 
commensurate with their merits, and seem likely to prove 
enduring. With the single exception of Bishop Ken's 
" Doxology," and Perronet's " All hail the power of Jesus* 
name," no hymn is more universally used in public ser- 
vice than the following : 

Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing, 
Fill our hearts with joy and peace ; 

Let us each, thy love possessing, 
Triumph in redeeming grace : 

Oh refresh us. 
Travelling through this wilderness. 

Thanks we give, and adoration. 

For thy gospel's joyful sound ; 
May the fruits of thy salvation 

In our hearts and lives abound; 
May thy presence 

With us evermore be found. 



\ 



124 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Then, whene'er the signal 's given 

Us from earth to call away, 
Borne on angels' wings to heaven — 

Glad the. summons to obey — 
May we ever 

Reign with Christ in endless day. 

The Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley was born in the 
year 1725. He was brother to Earl Ferrars, and first 
cousin of Selina, Countess of Huntingdon. He was a 
frequent visitor to Lady Huntingdon's London residence, 
and there became acquainted with the Calvinist Metho- 
dist preachers. He was converted under the ministry of 
Mr. Venn, became intimate with Whitefield, took orders, 
and began to preach in the Church of England. After 
preaching with great success in his native country, he 
received the living of Loughrea, Ireland, where he con- 
tinued to exercise his ministry for many years. 

In the year 1760 he was called to endure severe dis- 
cipline, which had the eJBfect of making him deeply hum- 
ble. While Sir Walter had been receiving the truths of 
the gospel, and growing in Christian graces, his brother, 
Earl Ferrars, had been leading a most worldly and licen- 
tious life, which, after years of secret dishonor, ended in 
public shame. In the year mentioned he became greatly 
incensed with a Mr. Johnson, his steward, who had been 
a servant in the family for thirty years, and who had 
shown a good disposition towards Lady Ferrars in her 
case against a favorite mistress of the nobleman. The 
details of the whole case are too unprofitable for recital ; 
but the earl finding his old servant fearlessly devoted to 
his duty, deliberately shot him, and made no concealment 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 125 

of the deed. The murder proved a shock to English 
society. The earl was arrested and lodged in the Tower 
of London. He was brought to trial in Westminster, 
on which occasion, according to Charles Wesley, " most 
of the royal family, the chief gentry, and foreign minis- 
ters were present." After three days' sitting, the court 
sentenced the earl to be hanged at Tyburn, and "his 
body to be delivered to Surgeons' Hall to be dissected 
and aiiatoniized." 

The distress of Walter Shirley, Lady Huntingdon, 
and other pious relatives of the doomed earl, was ex- 
treme. The whole English church, and especially the 
then portion of it known as the Methodists, deeply sym- 
pathized with Walter Shirley. The conduct of the high- 
born convict now gave a still darker aspect and more 
heartrending associations to the crime. He resolved to 
die as hardened as he had lived. 

Walter Shirley left his humble parish in Ireland and 
hastened to England, and, with Lady Huntingdon, did 
everything in his power to bring his brother to repent- 
ance and the exercise of religious faith, but without suc- 
cess. The religious society of London was deeply 
affected; prayers were offered up for the earl in the 
churches, and the Methodist societies spent a day in 
fasting and prayer for the unhappy nobleman's conver- 
sion. But all was of no avail. He spent the night be- 
fore his execution in playing piquet with the warden of 
the prison. Just before leaving his cell on the fatal 
day, he wrote the following lines, which he left on the 
table : H* 




126 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

"In doubt I lived, in doubt I die, 
Yet stand prepared the vast abyss to try, 
And undismayed expect eternity." 

He went to Tyburn amid the tears of his friends and 
the derision of immense crowds of people. He dressed 
himself for execution in his wedding clothes, and received 
a note in his carriage from the wretched woman who had 
caused of all this misery. 

Sir Walter returned to his little flock in Loughrea a 
broken-spirited man. Three weeks after the execution 
he wrote to Mr. John Wesley as follows : " I have reason 
to bless God for the humbling lessons he has taught me 
through these awful visitations." It is probable that 
family misfortune was the source of the inspiration of 
his well-known hymn : 

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. 

Shirley opposed Wesley in forming societies outside 
of the Established Church. " I have hitherto learned to 
consider the Methodists," he wrote to Mr. Wesley, " not 
as any sect, but as a purer part of the Church of Eng- 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 127 

land." In the great religious controversy between the 
Arminian and Calvinist Methodists, Shirley sympathized 
with the views of Whitefield and Lady Huntingdon. 

He greatly loved his little parish in Ireland, and was 
influenced with warm zeal for the conversion of souls. 
His piety and humility grew with advancing years, and 
he fully felt the power of the experience which he has so 
delightfully sung : 

Sweet the moments, rich in blessing, 

Which before the cross I spend, 
Life, and health, and peace possessing 

From the sinner's dying Friend. 

Here I rest, for ever viewing 

Mercy poured in streams of blood ; 
Precious drops, my soul bedewing, 

Plead and claim my peace with God. 

Truly blessed is the station, 

Low before his cross to lie. 
While I see divine compassion 

Beaming in his languid eye. 

Lord, in ceaseless contemplation 

Fix my thankful heart on thee, 
Till I taste thy full salvation. 

And thine xmveiled glory see. 

This beautiful hymn is said to have been suggested 
by a religious poem written by James Allen, a local poet, 
which begins, " While my Jesus I 'm possessing." 

His last days were serene and peaceful, and he wit- 
nessed to the end the power of Christian consolations. 
His sickness was protracted. When no longer able to 



128 • THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

leave the house, he was unwilling to cease preaching. 
The old man used to send for his neighbors, and, sitting 
in his chair in his own house, used to preach to as many 
as could hear him. He died in 1786. 

His hymns are marked "Episcopal Collection" in 
some of the most widely used hymn-books. In the 
Baptist, Methodist, and Congregational hymn-books, 
his hymn beginning, " Lord, dismiss us with thy bless- 
ing," is attributed to Burder. It appeared originally in 
Harris* collection of hymns. The last lines of the second 
verse in the original are, 

« Ever faithful 
To thy truth may we be found." 



« WA TCHMAN, TELL US OF THE NIGHT.'' 

Watchman, tell us of the night, 

What its signs of promise are. 
Traveler, o'er yon mountain's height 

See the glory-beaming star. 
Watchman, does its beauteous ray 

Aught of hope or joy foretell ? 
Traveler, yes, it brings the day — 

Promised day of Israel. 

Watchman, tell us of the night ; 

Higher yet that star ascends. 
Traveler, blessedness and light, 

Peace and truth, its course portends. 
Watchman, will its beams, alone. 

Gild the spot that gave them birth? 
Traveler, ages are its own ; 

See, it bursts o'er all the earth. 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 129 

Watchman, tell us of the night, 

For the morning seems to dawn. 
Traveler, darkness takes its flight ; 

Doubt and terror are withdrawn. 
Watchman, let thy wandering cease ; 

Hie thee to thy quiet home. 
Traveler, lo ! the Prince of Peace, 

Lo ! the Son of God is come. 

This hymn was written by Sir John Bowring in 
1825. Mr. Bowring seems to have been an almost pro- 
phetic poet, and, like Isaiah, to have had continually in 
view the spiritual victories that are to fill the world with 
righteousness. In every high position he took with 
him a hopeful, luminous Christian experience, and ever 
seemed like a watchman on the walls of Zion, who 
sooner than others saw and heralded the first beams of 
the full-orbed and glorious gospel day. 

He was born in Exeter in 1792. He was a preco- 
cious youth, and possessed a remarkable power in acqui- 
ring the languages. He became highly accomplished, 
was elected to Parliament, was appointed consul at Can- 
ton, made governor of Hong Kong, and received the 
honor of knighthood. His Christian experience, and 
his hopes and expectations of the spread of the gospel 
over the whole world, are beautifully portrayed in his 
" Matins and Vespers." 

''WHILE THEE I SEEK, PROTECTING POWER:' 

While thee I seek, protecting Power, 

Be my vain wishes stilled ; 
And may this consecrated hour 

With better hopes be filled. 



4 



I30 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS, 

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. 

In each event of life, how clear 

Thy ruling hand I see ; 
Each blessing to my soul most dear, 

Because conferred by thee. 

In every joy that crowns my days, 

In every pain I bear, 
My heart shall find delight in praise, 

Or seek relief in prayer. 

When gladness wings my favored hour 

Thy love my thoughts shall fill ; 
Resigned when 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 ; 

That heart will rest on thee. 

Some expressions of this hymn have indirect reference 
to the stormy scenes in France about the time of the Rev- 
olution. It was written in France when the political 
sky was very dark and threatening, and no one felt 
secure. Its author was Miss Helen Maria Williams. 
She was born in the North of England in 1762. She 
went to London at the age of eighteen, where she won 
much reputation as a poet. She afterwards went to 
Paris, where she lived during the breaking up of the 
monarchy, and where she published works in prose and 
verse. She was a very devout woman, and relied on the 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE, 131 

strong arm of God at the time of peril. She held a high 
place in religious society, both in London and Paris. 



''HARK! THE VOICE OF LOVE AND MERCY.'' 

Hark ! the voice of love and mercy 

Sounds aloud from Calvary ; 
See ! it rends the rocks asunder, 

Shakes the earth, and veils the sky ; 
** It is finished !" 

Hear the dying Saviour cry. 

It is finished ! Oh what pleasure 

Do these charming words afford ! 
Heavenly blessings without measure 

Flow to us from Christ the Lord : 
It is finished : 

Saints, the dying words record. 

Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs ; 

Join to sing the pleasing theme ; 
All on earth and all in heaven 

Join to praise Immanuel's name ; 
It is finished : 

Glory to the bleeding Lamb. 

This hymn is the fruit of a remarkable Christian ex- 
perience; a grateful expression of a sense of the great- 
ness of God's mercy, and the extent of the atonement 
which the writer had occasion to feel. It was written 
by Jonathan Evans about the year 1787, and appeared 
in "Rippons Selection," under the title of "Finished 
Redemption." 

Mr, Evans was in early life a very irreligious man. 
He was employed in a ribbon factory, and led a very 



132 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

profitless and unpromising life, until he was nearly thirty 
years of age, when he became converted, and joined the 
Congregationalists. Soon after his conversion he began 
to speak of God's dealings with him, in public, preach- 
ing at such times as his secular employments permitted. 
He at last gathered around him a church and began a 
stated ministry. 



''WHEN, MARSHALLED ON THE NIGHTLY PLAIN:' 

Henry Kirke White was born at Nottingham, Eng- 
land, 1785. His father was a butcher in very humble 
circumstances. At the age of fourteen he became a 
weaver's apprentice, and two years later he was articled 
to an attorney. 

His religious experience is interesting. He had an 
intimate friend in youth, named Almond. White was a 
skeptic, and used to ridicule religion and religious things ; 
while Almond's heart was open to conviction ; he seemed 
anxious to know the truth and to practise it. 

One day Almond was called to the bedside of a dying 
believer, who passed away in great peace, consoled by a 
triumphant faith. He was fully convinced of the truth 
of religion by the impressive scene, and resolved to be- 
come a Christian. But he shrunk from making known 
his convictions through fear of the ridicule of White. 

His mind for a time was greatly agitated and divided, 
but he at last made the resolution to give up the society 
of his friend, should it be necessary, and to avow himself 
a believer in Christ 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE, 133 

White felt the neglect of his friend keenly, and went 
to him in an injured way, and inquired the cause. Al- 
mond confessed the change that had taken place in his 
views, and announced his purpose of leading a different 
life. The answer, of course, implied that his friend was 
unworthy the confidence of one who aimed to live pi- 
ously. White saw it in this light, and was cut to the quick. 

" Good God, Almond !" exclaimed the conscience- 
smitten skeptic, " you surely regard me in a worse light 
than I deserve." 

The interview melted the heart of White, and he, too, 
became an inquirer after truth, embraced religion, and 
the two youths renewed their friendship with warmer 
feelings and more elevated aims. 

This experience White relates metaphorically in his 
familiar hymn which follows : 

When, marshalled on the nightly plain, 

The glittering host bestud the sky, 
One star alone of all the train 

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. 
Hark, hark ! to God the chorus breaks, 

From every host, from every gem ; 
But one alone the Saviour speaks ; 

It is the Star of Bethlehem. 

Once on the raging seas I rode : 

The storm was loud, the night was dark; 
The ocean )rawned, and rudely blowed 

The wind that tossed my foundering bark. 
Deep horror then my vitals froze, 

Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem. 
When suddenly a star arose, 

It was the Star of Bethlehem. 

12 



134 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

It was my guide, my light, my all, 

It bade my dark forebodings cease ; 
And through the storm and danger's thrall, 

It led me to the port of peace. 
Now, safely moored, my perils o'er, 

I '11 sing, first in night's diadem. 
For ever and for evermore. 

The Star, the Star of Bethlehem I 

White now turned his purpose of life to the ministry, 
and prepared himself for Cambridge by severe study. 
At college his health gave way under the severity of his 
application, and he died in the autumn of 1806, at the 
age of twenty. 



^WHILE WITH CEASELESS COURSE THE SUN."" 

While with ceaseless course the sun 

Hasted through the former year, 
Many souls their race have run. 

Never more to meet us here : 
Fixed in an eternal state. 

They have done with all below ; 
We a little longer wait, 

But how little — none can know. 

As the wing6d arrow flies 

Speedily the mark to find, 
As the lightning from the skies 

Darts and leaves no trace behind, 
Swiftly thus our fleeting days 

Bears us down life's rapid stream ; 
Upward, Lord, our spirits raise : 

All below is but a dream. 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 135 

Thanks for mercies past receive, 

Pardon of our sins renew ; 
Teach us henceforth how to live 

With eternity in view. 
Bless thy word to young and old ; 

Fill us with a Saviour's love ; 
And, when life's short tale is told, 

May we dwell with thee above. 

This hymn was written by the Rev. John Newton, for 
the " Olney Hymns.** Mr. Newton calls his hymns " The 
fruit and expression of his own experience." The allu- 
sion in the first stanza of the hymn has reference to the 
changes that had taken place in his own parish at Olney, 
where he was, at the time of the writing, a very active 
and sympathizing curate. 



''ON THE MOUNTAINTOP APPEARING^ 

Thomas Kelly, an admired hymn-writer and an ex- 
cellent and useful clergyman, was the son of the Hon. 
Chief Baron Kelly of Dublin, and was born in 1769. He 
was educated in Dublin University, and was partly pre- 
pared to enter the profession of law, when he became 
deeply impressed with the instability of worldly things 
and the magnitude of spiritual riches, and decided to 
enter the ministry. He was ordained in the Established 
Church at the age of twenty-four. He began to labor 
with great zeal for the conversion of souls, preaching 
the doctrine of justification by faith. This course was 
deemed by his friends a departure from the dignity of 
of his office, and was deeply humiliating to his high-born 



136 THE STOR -K OF THE HYMJSiS. 

family, who for a time treated him with marked coolness 
and disregard. " To go to the stake," he said, " would 
be a less trial to me than to so set myself against those 
whom I so dearly love." But he remained firm to his 
convictions of duty, and multitudes flocked to his preach- 
ing, and he was able to exert a very powerful influence. 
He was an Oriental scholar and a musical composer, as 
well as a poet, but he laid all of his varied gifts and ac- 
complishments, with unaffected simplicity and humility, 
at the foot of the Cross. 

His religious experience is related in the following 

hymn : 

Poor and afflicted, Lord, are thine, 
Among the great they seldcnn shine ; 
Yet though the world may think it strange, 
They would not with the world exchange. 

Poor and afflicted — 'tis their lot; 
They know it, and they murmur not ; 
*T would ill become them to refuse 
The state their Maker deigned to choose. 

Poor and afflicted — ^yet they sing ; 
For Jesus is their glorious King ; 
Through sufferings perfect now he reigns. 
And shares in all their griefs and pains. 

And while they walk the thorny way 
They 're often heard to sigh and say 
Dear Saviour come, oh, quickly come. 
And take thy mourning pilgrims home. 

The lines, as applied to his own case, are not in the 
strictest sense true, for he was a man of large wealth. 
He wrote more than seven hundred hymns of many de- 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 137 

grees of excellence. He was dissatisfied with the disci- 
pline of the Established Church ; entertained broad 
views, and looked for the coming of Christ's universal 
kingdom. This experience is the origin of his well- 
known hymn : 

On the mountain-top appearing, 

Lo the sacred herald stands, 
Joyful news to Zion bearing, 

Zion long in hostile hands : 
Mourning captive, 

God himself shall loose thy bands. 

Has thy 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. 

God, thy God, will now restore thee ; 

He himself appears thy Friend ; 
All thy foes shall flee before thee ; 

Here their boasts and triumphs end 
Great deliverance 

Zion's King will surely send. 

Peace and joy shall now attend thee ; 

All thy warfare now is past ; 
God thy Saviour will defend thee ; 

Victory is thine at last : 
All thy conflicts 

End in everlasting rest. 

He labored in Dublin for more than sixty years. 
Lord Plunkett, one of his intimate friends, once said to 
him, J2* 



< 



138 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

" I think you will live to a great age." 

" I am confident I shall," said the vicar ; " I expect 
never to die." 

His dying testimony was to this effect : " The Lord 
is my all in all." 



«//^ / MUST VIE, OH LET ME VIE TRUSTING IN 

JESUS BLOOD?' 

Benjamin Beddome, a Baptist minister, lived a life 
of comparative seclusion in a a small country village, 
called Bourton-on-the- Water, Gloucestershire, where he 
died September, 179S, in the 79th year of his age. He 
was a religious poet, and wrote nearly one thousand 
hymns. 

In 1749 he was prostrated by a very severe illness, 
and on his recovery wrote a hymn, which, after some 
improving, was published as follows : 

If I must die, oh let me die 

Trusting in Jesus' blood, 
That blood which full atonement made 

And reconciles to God. 

If I must die, then let me die 

In peace with all mankind, 
And change these fleeting joys below 

For pleasures all refined. 

If I must die, as die I must, 

Let some kind seraph come, 
And bear me on his friendly wing 

To my celestial home. 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 139 

Of Canaan's land, from Pisgah's top, 

May I but have a view. 
Though Jordan should o'erflow its banks, 

I 'U boldly venture through. 

His death fulfilled the expectations of the hymn. He 
preached long after the silver crown of age had been set 
upon his head, and venerableness had added solemnity 
and dignity to his words. He desired that he might de- 
part without a long sickness. He was confined to his 
house at last only a single Lord's day. An hour before 
his death he was found composing a hymn, in which was 
the following stanza : 

" God of my life and of my choice, 
Shall I no longer hear thy voice ? 
Oh let the source of joy divine 
With rapture fill this heart of mine." 



«^ WAKE, MV SOUL, IN JOYFUL LA KS"." 

Rev. Samuel Medley, was born in Hertfordshire, 
England, 1738. At the age of eighteen he entered the 
navy, and was wounded in the engagement off Cape La- 
gos, under Admiral Boscawen, in 1759. His wound 
proved a very serious one. 

"I am afraid," said the surgeon, "that amputation is 
the only thing that will save your life. I can tell to- 
morrow morning.". 

Medley had received religious instruction from a 
pious father and grandfather, and had been made the 
subject of frequent prayer. . He had led a profligate life 
in the navy, but the pious lessons of his early youth 



I40 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

returned upon him at the surgeon's awful warning, and 
he remembered that God was a Helper when human 
helps fail. He began to pray, and passed a part of the 
night in prayer. The next morning the surgeon came 
to examine his wounds, and lifted his hands in surprise 
at the favorable change that had taken place. " This," 
said he, " is little short of a miracle." 

Medley now resolved to lead a religious life, but on 
recovery was again led into thoughtless habits. 

Returning to his home, he was compelled to listen to 
many a faithful admonition and warning. One Sabbath 
evening he inquired of a servant if his grandfather was 
going out to worship. "No," was the answer, "he is 
coming to read a sermon to you." " A sermon to me !" 
replied Medley; "he had better be anywhere else!" 
The sermon was one by Dr. Watts, from Isaiah 42:6, 7. 
He listened to it at first with indifference, but his heart 
at last began to melt, and he was led to see the wonder- 
ful forbearance of God. As soon as the aged man left 
him alone, he fell upon his knees, and not long after the 
love of Christ filled his soul and changed the purpose of 
his life. His best known hymn is a relation of this ex- 
perience : 

Awake, my soul, in joyful lays, 

And sing thy great Redeemer's praise ; 

He justly claims a song from me ; 

His loving-kindness is so free I 

He saw me ruined in the fall, 
Yet loved me notwithstanding all : 
He saved me from my lost estate ; 
His loving-kindness is so great ! 



SONGS IN THE PILGRIMAGE. 141 

Through mighty hosts of cruel foes, 
Where earth and hell my way oppose, 
He safely leads my soul along I 
His loving-kindness is so strong ! 

When earthly friends forsake me quite, 
And I have neither skill nor might, 
He 's sure my helper to appear; 
His loving-kindness is so near ! 

Often I feel my sinful heart 
Prone from my Jesus to depart ; 
And though I oft have him forgot. 
His loving-kindness changes not 

So when I pass death's gloomy vale, 
And life and mortal powers shall fail, 
Oh may my last expiring breath 
His loving-kindness sing in death ! 



4 



IV. SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 



1. SHEPHERD OF TENDER YOUTH. 

2. THERE IS A HAPPY LAND, 

3. I THINK WHEN I READ THAT SWEET STORY OF OLD. 

4. WE SPEAK OF THE REALMS OF THE BLEST. 
I. NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP. 

6. GOLDEN HEAD, SO LOWLY BENDING. 

7. '' NOW I LAY^'—REPEAT IT, DARLING. 

8. / WANT TO BE AN ANGEL. 

9. 'TIS RELIGION THAT CAN GIVE. 

0. STAND UP FOR JESUS. 

1. DAILY, DAILY SING THE PRAISES. 

2. JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT ONE PLEA. 

3. BY COOL SILO AM' S SHADY RILL, 

4. O MOTHER DEAR, JERUSALEM. 

5. JERUSALEM, MY HAPPY HOME. 

6. PM BUT A STRANGER HERE 

7. GOD CALLING YET. 

8. LITTLE TRA VELLERS ZIONWARD. 

9. LAND AHEAD! ITS FRUITS ARE WAVING. 

20. HE LEADETH ME! OH, BLESSED THOUGHT. 

21. / AM SO GLAD THAT OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN. 
23. / GA VE MY LIFE FOR THEE. 



4 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS, 



WRITERS OF SUNDA V-SCHOOL HYMNS. 

The writers of the best Sunday-school hymns are 
benefactors, whose influence is hardly calculable, but 
whose personal history, with but few exceptions, is little 
known. 

I. The following is a part of the oldest Christian hymn 

for children : 

Shepherd of tender youth, 

Guiding in love and truth 

Through devious ways, 
Christ, our triumphant king, 
We come thy name to sing. 
And here our children bring 

To shout thy praise. 

Ever be thou our guide. 
Our shepherd and our pride. 

Our staff and song ; 
Jesus, thou Christ of God, 
By thy perennial word 
Lead us where thou hast trod, 

Make our faith strong. 

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 and sing the song 

To Christ our king. 



i 



146 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

2. The favorite Sunday-school hymn beginning — 

" There is a happy land," 

seems to have been suggested by a Hebrew melody. It 
was written by Andrew Young, a cultured Scotchman, 
and a popular teacher of youth. In 1830, he was elected 
by the City Council of Edinburgh, head master of the 
Niddry street school, and in 1840 was appointed English 
master in Madras college. He held the latter position 
thirteen years, and has since resided in Edinburgh. 

3. The hymn beginning — 

" I think when I read that sweet story of old," 

which is sometimes attributed to Mrs. Judson, was com- 
posed by Mrs. Jemima Luke, a benevolent and accom- 
plished English lady, born at Colebrook Terrace, Islington, 
August 19, 1 813. She took a great interest in mission- 
ary enterprises, and for several years edited The Mission- 
ary Repository. She exhibited a fine literary and poetic 
taste early in life, and at the age of thirteen was able to 
write acceptably for the yuvenile Magazine. The hymn 
was composed under somewhat peculiar circumstances, 
and she had no idea of its value or ultimate popularity 
at the time of writing. Her father, Thomas Thompson, 
Esq., was a philanthropist, and took an interest, like her- 
self, in missions, and in the education of poor children. 
Mrs. Luke became much attached to a little village 
school near her father's residence at Pondsford Park, 
and, on a certain occasion, wished to write a little song 
for it, that would awaken an interest in religion and 
have a salutary effect on the minds of the children. The 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 147 

leading thought of the hymn, which is Christ's present 
sympathy for the little ones, was brought to her mind 
while riding in a stage-coach, and she composed the 
poem during the ride, while the inspiration of the sub- 
ject yet lingered. It was published in 1865. 

The following is the original of Mrs. Luke's beautiful 
hymn, which has two stanzas not found in many collec- 
tions : 

I THINK when I read that sweet story of old, 

When Jesus dwelt here among men, 
How he called little children as lambs to his fold, 

I should like to have been with him then. 

I wish that his hand had been put on my head, 

And that I been placed on his knee, 
And that I might have seen his kind look when he said, 

" Let the little ones come unto me." 

Yet still to his footstool in prayer I may go. 

And ask for a share in his love ; 
And if I thus earnestly seek him below, 

I shall hear him and see him above. 

In that beautiful place he is gone to prepare 
For all who are washed and forgiven ; 

And many dear children are gathering there, 
For of such is the kingdom of heaven. 

But thousands and thousands who wander and foil 

Never heard of that heavenly home ; 
I should like them to know there is room for them all . 

And that Jesus has bid them to come. • 

I long for that blessed and glorious time — 

The fairest, the brightest, the best — 
When the dear little children of every clime 

Shall crowd to his arms and be blessed. 



148 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

4. The hymn found in nearly all Sunday-school collec- 
tions, entitled " What must it be to be there ?" and be- 
ginning— 

" We speak of the realms of the blest," 

was written by a young English lady, the wife of Thomas 
Mills, Esq., M. P., who was much esteemed for her amia- 
bleness, tenderness of feeling, and calm religious trust. 
She died at the age of twenty-four. The hymn was 
composed about three weeks before her decease, while 
she was yet lingering, as it were, on the heavenly border 
refreshed with the near prospect of Paradise. She had 
been reading Bridges on Psalm 119:44, "We speak of 
heaven, but, oh, to be there !"^ The original has six 
stanzas. 

5. The little prayer beginning— 

" Now I lay me down to sleep," 

was written by Dr. Watts. It has been an evening pray- 
er for children, as far as the English language is spoken, 
for nearly two centuries. Several little Sunday-school 
ballads have been written upon it. 

6. One of these first appeared in Putnanis Magazine: 

Golden head, so lowly bending, 

Little feet so white and bare, 
Dewy eyes, half shut, half opened, 

Lisping out her evening prayer. 

Well she knows when she is saying 

" Now I lay me down to sleep," 
'T is to God that she is praying. 

Praying him her soul to keep. 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 149 

Half asleep, and murmuring faintly 
" If I should die before I wake" — 

Tiny fingers clasped so saintly — 
" I pray the Lord my soul to take." 

Oh the rapture, sweet, unbroken, 
Of the soul who wrote that prayer ! 

Children's myriad voices floating 
Up to heaven record it there. 

If, of all that has been written, 
I could choose what might be mine, 

It should be that child's petition, 
Rising to the throne divine. 

7. The following, entitled " The unfinished Prayer," 
originally appeared, we think, in the Lutheran Home 
Monthly: 

" Now I lay,*' — repeat it, darling — 

" Lay me," lisped the tiny lips 
Of my daughter, kneeling, bending 

O'er her folded finger tips. 

" Down to sleep" — " To sleep," she murmured, 

And the curly head bent low ; 
" I pray the Lord" — I gently added, 

" You can say it all I know." 

" Pray the Lord — ^" The sound came faintly. 
Fainter still — " My soul to keep ;" 

Then the tired head fairly nodded. 
And the child was fast asleep. 

But the dewy eyes half opened 
When I clasped her to my breast, 

And the dear voice softly whispered, 
" Mamma, God knows all the rest 

13* 



150 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

8. Rev. Dr. Armitage of New York, in a lecture on 
" Our Female Hymn Writers," has recently brought to 
light the touching history of the hymn, beginning, 

" I want to be an angel." 

'* It was written," he says, " by Mrs. Sydney P. Gill, in 
Philadelphia. In the Sunday-school of Dr. Joel Parker's 
church she taught the infant class. She had been 
teaching a lesson on angels, when a little child said, 
* I want to be an angel.' A few days after, the child 
died, the hymn was written for that Sunday-school to 
sing on her death, and it has struck a chord in every 
child's heart since 1845." 

It was composed April 19, 1845, on the day of the 
death of a little girl named Annie Louisa Farrand, the 
Sunday-school scholar to whom Dr. Armitage refers. 

The words " I want to be an angel" had at this time 
been made familiar by the following incident, written 
by Dr. Irenaeus Prime, April 5, 1845, which was being 
copied by nearly all religious and Sunday-school papers : 

" A child sat in the door of a cottage at the close of a 
summer Sabbath. The twilight was fading, and as the 
shades of evening darkened, one after another of the 
stars stood in the sky and looked down on the child in 
his thoughtful mood. He was looking up at the stars 
aod counting them as they came, till there were too many 
to be counted, and his eyes wandered all over the heav- 
ens, watching the bright worlds above. They seemed 
just like "holes in the floor of heaven to let the glory 
through," but he knew better. Yet he loved to look up 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 151 

there, and was so absorbed, that his mother called to 
him and said : 

" ' My son, what are you thinking of ?' 

" He started as if suddenly aroused from sleep, and 
answered, 

" ' I was thinking 

"* Yes,' said his mother, * I know you were thinking, 
but what were you thinking about ?' 

"*0h,* said he, and his little eyes sparkled with the 
thought, * / wafit to be an angel! 

" * And why, my son, would you be an angel ?* 

" * Heaven is up there, is it not, mother ? and there the 
angels live and love God, and are happy. I do wish I 
was good, and God would take me there, and let me wait 
on him for ever.' 

" The mother called him to her knee, and he leaned on 
her bosom and wept. She wept too, and smoothed the 
soft hair of his head as he stood there, and kissed his 
forehead, and then told him that if he would give his 
heart to God, now while he was young, the Saviour 
would forgive all his sins and take him up to heaven 
when he died, and he would then be with God for ever. 

" His young heart was comforted. He knelt at his 
mother's side and said : 

"* Jesus, Saviour, Son of God, 
Wash me in thy precious blood ; 
I thy little lamb would be, 
Help me, Lord, to look to thee 

The mother took the young child to his chamber and 
soon he was asleep, dreaming perhaps of angels and 



152 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

heaven. A few months afterwards sickness was on him, 
and the light of that cottage, the joy of that mother's 
heart, went out. He breathed his last in her arms, and 
as he took her parting kiss, he whispered in her ear : 
" * I am going to be an angel.' 



» » 



\ 



9. *T IS religion that can give 
Sweetest pleasure while we live ; 
'T is religion can supply 
Solid comfort when we die. 
After death its joys shall be 
Lasting as eternity. 

This poem, in six lines, is from an English book, by 
Mary Masters. In the preface to the work, we read, 
" The author of the following poems never read a trea- 
tise 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. Her ge- 
nius to poetry was always discountenanced by her pa- 
rents, and till her merit got the better of her fortune, she 
was shut out from all commerce with the more knowing 
and polite part of the world." 

10. The American Sunday-school hymn, beginning, 

" Stand up, stand up for Jesus," 

was composed by George Duffield, a Presbyterian clergy- 
man in Detroit. He was born at Carlisle, Penn., in 1818, 
and graduated at Yale College in 1837. He has written 
a number of hymns, of which, "Stand up for Jesus," 
owing perhaps to its associations, is best known. It was 
composed to be sung after a sermon delivered by the 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 153 

writer on the sudden death of Rev. Dudley A. Tyng, 
whose dying words to his Christian brothers were, " Stand 
up for Jesus." 

Dudley Atkins Tyng was born on th^ 12th of Januaiy, 
1825, in a quiet parsonage in Prince George Co., Va. 
His father, Dr. Dudley A. Tyng, removed to St. George's 
Church, Philadelphia, in which parish Dudley passed 
his boyhood. He was a precocious scholar. He was 
able to read the Latin authors at the age of seven, and 
he entered the University of Pennsylvania at the age of 
fourteen. 

He became the subject of converting grace and ex- 
perimental religion in 1841. His father relates the fol- 
lowing touching incident in connection with his conver- 
sion : " Late one night, when all the family had retired 
to rest, and left me to my closing hour of solitude in my 
study, I heard the sound of feet descending the stairs. 
It was this dear boy, who had risen from his bed in 
sleepless sorrow. As he came into my room and pressed 
his arms around my neck, he said, " Dear father, I can- 
not sleep, I am so sinful. Father, will you pray for me ?" 

In 1854, Mr. Tyng became rector of the church of the 
Epiphany, Philadelphia, and he entered with glowing 
zeal and love for souls into the revival work associated 
with the great religious awakening which, soon after his 
instalment, manifested itself at Philadelphia and in the 
principal cities of the United States. He was the favor- 
ite lerder of the great union prayer-meetings held in 
Philadelphia, and it is said that he met more inquirers 
during the revival than any other pastor in the city. 



IS 4 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

In the spring following the great awakening, he met 
with a terrible accident that proved fatal in its results. 

" Dr. ," said the young pastor to his physician, " my 

friends have givqp me up ; they say that I am dying ; is 
that your opinion V The doctor replied in the affirma- 
tive. "Then, doctor, I have' something to say to you. I 
have loved you much as a friend ; I long to love you as 
a brother in Jesus Christ. Let me entreat you now to 
come to Jesus." 

He was asked if he had any message to his brethren 
in the ministry. He said, addressing his father, 

" Father, stand up for Jesus. Tell them, let us all 
stand up for Jesus." 

He became partially unconscious. He did not know 
any of the members of the family. 

" Do you know Jesus V* he was asked. 

His answer was jubilant. 

" I know Jesus. I have a steadfast trust in Jesus — z. 
calm and steadfast trust." 

" Are you happy ?" 

"Perfectly! perfectly." 

He was buried amid the tears of more than ten thou- 
sand people. 

II. The English Sunday-school hymn, so popular in 
Episcopal churches, beginning, 

" Daily, daily sing the praises 
Of the city God has made," 

was composed by Sabine Baring Gould, and originally 
printed on a card for the use of St. John s Mission, Hor- 
bury Bridge, Yorkshire. The same year it appeared in 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 155 

the " Church Times." The chorus is vigorous, and the 
music is animating as the hymn : 

" Oh that I had wings of angels, 

Here to spread and heavenward fly, 
I would seek the walls of Zion, 
Far beyond the starry sky." 

12. The authorship of the hymn, beginning, 

" Just as I am, without one plea," 

has recently been noticed in several religious papers. It 
was written by Charlotte Elliott of Torquay, in Devon. 
The original hymn has a stanza which is usually omitted, 
which we give here : 

" Just as I am, of that free love 
The breadth, length, depth, and height to prove, 
Here for a season, then above, 
O Lamb of God, I come." 

13, The favorite Sunday-school hymn, beginning, 

" By cool Siloam's shady rill," 

was composed by Bishop Heber. He but gives in it his 
own experience. His early feet "trod the paths of 
peace," and his mind was early " upward drawn to God." 
He was a solitary student at Oxford, his gentle, devo- 
tional nature shrinking from the show and affectation of 
society. His fine poem, " Palestine," was written for a 
college exercise. Though so quiet, he became greatly 
beloved at Oxford, and when "Palestine" was first read 
by him in the theatre, at the annual college commence- 
ment, it was received with such an outburst of applause as 
probably never before greeted an Oxford student. His 



K 



156 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

aged father and mother were present on the occasion. 
After the reading of the poem, young Heber was for a 
long time missing, and his mother, going to look'for him, 
softly opened the door of his sleeping room. She found 
him on his knees breathing out his soul in gratitude and 
prayer. 

r4. The hymn, used both in the church and Sunday- 
3chool, beginning, 

" O mother dear, Jerusalem," 

was written in the Tower of London on the Thames, 
during the reign of Elizabeth. Its figures and contrasts 
are those of imprisonment. Such lines as 

" Oh happy harbor of God's saints," 
" There envy bears no sway," 
" Thy turrets and thy pinnacles," 
" We that are here in banishment,* 

have new meanings as we understand the associations 
amid which they were written. Some of the stanzas, 
usually omitted in hymn-books, are very beautiful. 

Its author was Francis Baker, It is also inscribed 
to David Dickson, 1583-1662. 

O MOTHER dear, Jerusalem ! 

When shall I come to thee ? 
When shall my sorrows have an end ? 

Thy joys when shall I see ? 

Oh happy harbor of God's saints ! 

Oh sweet and pleasant soil ! 
In thee no sorrow can be found, 

Nor grief nor care nor toil. 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 157 

In thee no sickness is at all, 

Nor hurt nor any sore ; 
There is no death nor ugly sight, 

But life for evermore. 

No murky cloud o'ershadows thee, 

Nor gloom, nor darksome night ; 
But every soul shines as the sun ; 

For God himself gives light 

Jerusalem! Jerusalem! 

Would God I were in thee ! 
Oh that my sorrows had an end, 

Thy joys that I might see. 

Thy turrets and thy pinnacles 

With carbuncles do shine, 
With jasper, pearl, and chrysolite. 

Surpassing pure and fine. 

Thy houses are of ivory, 

Thy windows crystal clear, 
Thy streets are laid with beaten gold ; 

There angels do appear. 

Thy walls are made of precious stone, 

Thy bulwarks diamond square. 
Thy gates are made of orient pearl ; 

O God, if I were there ! 

Oh my sweet home, Jerusalem ! 

Thy joys when shall I see? 
The King that sitteth on thy throne 

In his felicity? 

Thy gardens and thy goodly walks 

Continually are green, 
Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers 

As nowhere else are seen. 

14 



IS8 I'HE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Right through thy streets with pleasing sound. 

The living waters flow, 
And on the banks, on either side 

The trees of life do grow. 

Those trees each month yield ripened fruit; 

For evermore they spring, 
And all the nations of the earth 

To thee their honors bring. 

If heaven be thus glorious. Lord, 
Why should I stay from thence ? 

What folly *s this, that I should dread 
To die and go from hence ! 

Reach down, O Lord, thine arm of grace, 

And cause me to ascend 
Where congregations ne'er break up 

And Sabbaths never end. 

O mother dear, Jerusalem ! 

When shall I come to thee ? 
When shall my sorrows have an end ? 
. Thy joys when shall I see ? 

15. The stanzas which follow, constituting a well- 
known and popular hymn by themselves, seem to have 
been formed on the same model : 

Jerusalem, my happy home, 

Name ever dear to me, 
When shall my labors have an end 

In joy and peace and thee ? 

When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls 

And pearly gates behold ? 
Thy bulwarks, with salvation strong. 

And streets of shining gold ? 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 159 

There happier bowers than Eden's bloom, 

Nor sin nor sorrow know : 
Blest seats ! through rude and stormy scenes 

I onward press to you. 

Why should I shrink from pain and woe, 

Or feel at death dismay ? 
I 've Canaan's goodly land in view 

And realms of endless day. 

Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there 

Around my Saviour stand : 
And soon my friends in Christ below 

Will join the glorious band. 

Jerusalem, my happy home, 

My soul still pants for thee ; 
Then shall my labors have an end, 

When I thy joys shall see. 

16. Every Sunday-school scholar is familiar with the* 
beautiful hymn, beginning, 

" I 'm but a stranger here. 
Heaven is my home." 

Older and more experienced minds may have marked 
so much of evident sincerity and so little of the spirit of 
authorship in the lines, as to wish to know who was the 
author, and under what peculiar discipline of life they 
were composed. The hymn was written by Thomas 
Rawson Taylor, the son of an English Congregationalist 
minister. He was born near Wakefield on the 9th of 
May, 1807. At the age of fifteen he became a mer- 
chant's clerk, and he was subsequently apprenticed as a 
printer. While thus employed he became interested in 



{ 



i6o THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

the concerns of his soul, experienced great spiritual con- 
solations in seasons of prayer, and was impressed that it 
was his duty to give up his secular calling and prepare 
for the ministry. He entered Airesdale College, where 
he remained three years, living a life of most elevated 
and self-forgetful piety. He did not wait to complete 
his education before he commenced active service in the 
cause of his Master. He seemed to feel the force of the 
Divine command, " Work while the day lasts." While a 
student he used to go out to the towns and villages near 
the college preaching the Word, and appearing in his 
young zeal like a special messenger of celestial truth. 
In July, 1830, he was received as minister at Haward 
street chapel at Sheffield. Here his health began to de- 
cline ; it became evident that he was marked for an early 
.death, and that his bright prospects of worldly usefulness 
were destined to be disappointed. The change gradu- 
ally continued. He struggled against it for several 
years, and at times seemed to check the sure hand of 
the destroyer. But all remedial efforts proved in vain^ 
and he died March 7, 1835. 

In his altered, days he felt that he was a " stranger 
here" in the world of life and activity. But as one by 
one his worldy hopes perished, and the things of earth lost 
their power to charm, he realized with glowing antici- 
pations that " Heaven was his home. 

I 'm but a stranger here, 

Heaven is my home ; 
Earth is a desert drear, 

Heaven is my home. 



SUNDA Y-SCHOOL HYMNS. i6x 

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. 

Therefore I murmur not, 

Heaven is my. home ; 
Whatever my earthly lot, 

Heaven is my home. 
And I shall surely stand 
There at my Lord's right hand — 
Heaven is my Fatherland — 

Heaven is niy home. 

There at my Saviour's side, 

Heaven is my home ; • 

I shall be glorified. 

Heaven is my home. 
There are the good and blest, 
Those I loved most and best. 
There, too, I soon shall rest — 

Heaven is my home. 

Taylor died young, and he must have felt like Keats, 
that his name was " writ in water," or, like Kirke White, 

" I shall sink 
As sinks the traveller in the crowded streets 
Of busy London." 

14* 



i62 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

But his little hymn, written amid the dreariness of 
woridly disappointment, has accomplished a mission that 
makes him a benefactor, and by it he yet speaks, as no 
living voice can speak, to almost countless congregations 
in nearly every part of the world. 

17. The beautiful hymn which has lately become a fa- 
vorite in the Sunday-school, Young People's meetings, 
and Inquiry meetings, beginning, " God calling yet," was 
written by Gerhard Tersteegen. Thousands who sing 
this hymn, and who also love to sing another precious 
stanza from a hymn by the same author, beginning — 

" Is there a thing beneath the sun, 

That strives with Thee my heart to share ?" 

know but little of the personal history of the writer. 
Others who love to read — 

" Thou hidden love of God, whose height — " 

have never heard of the great religious happiness and 
elevation of soul that its German author enjoyed. 

Gerhard Tersteegen, the original author of the hymns 
to which we have alluded, and one of the most eminent 
religious poets of the Reformed German church in its 
early days, was bom 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 lim- 
ited, he was put to work as an apprentice when very 
young at Muhlheim on the Rhur. Here, when about 
fifteen years of age, he became deeply concerned for his 
soul, and experienced a deep and abiding spiritual work. 
He was riding one day to Duisburg in a deep forest 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS, 163 

alone, when he suddenly fell ill, being thrown into vio- 
lent convulsions that threatened his life. He fell upon 
his knees and implored God to spare his life, that he 
might prepare for eternity. He experienced almost im- 
mediate relief, and at once dedicated his life to Christ. 
An inward conflict followed, for his early religious com- 
forts seem to have been like wandering lights, now vanish- 
ing and now appearing. He used to express this state 
of his experience in the words of St. Augustine : 

" My heart is pained, nor can it be 
At rest, till it finds rest in Thee." 

But his religious perceptions became clearer; the 
fountains of heavenly refreshment were opened ; his soul 
entered into the rest of divine love, and found in it a 
present heaven. He thus gratefully writes of the change : 
" He took me by the hand, he drew me away from per- 
dition's yawning gulf, directed my eye to himself, and 
opened to me the unfathomable abyss of his loving heart." 
He seemed to be drawn into closer fellowship with God 
as youth ripened into manhood, and to live, as it were, 
on the heavenly confines as manhood fruited in a serene 
and cloudless old age. 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. I long for eternity that I may suitably 
glorify him for it." 

When he was thirty years of age, a great spiritual awa- 
kening was experienced at Muhlheim, and although Ters- 



i64 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

teegen shrank from public notice, he was prevailed upon 
to address the people on themes relating to religious expe- 
rience. He began to preach in private houses, but was 
soon compelled to enter upon more public labors. 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 not only by the most eminent Christians of Ger- 
many, but by multitudes of people from foreign lands. 
Thus spending his time in communion with God and 
in humble charities, and speaking to the spiritually- 
minded people who flocked to visit him, of the consola- 
tions of his own luminous experience, and of the new dis- 
coveries that grace was constantly making to his soul, 
beloved at home and revered and respected in foreign 
lands, his life drew near a triumphant exit, which took 
place, April 3, 1769. He lived an ascetic life in his 
best years, practising austerities, that no physical imped- 
iment might shut out the heavenly light or hinder the work 
of the Holy Spirit in comforming his soul to the will of 
God. He produced one hundred religious poems and 
spiritual songs, some of the best of which Wesley trans- 
lated, and whose authorship is attributed to Wesley in 
most American collections of hymns. 

The following is a very literal translation of Terstee- 
gen's hymn before alluded to : 

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. 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 165 

God calling yet ! — and I not yet arising ? 
So long his loving, faithful voice despising ; 
So falsely his unwearied care repaying ; 
He calls me still — ^and still I am delaying. 

God calling yet ! loud at my door he 's knocking, 
And I, my heart, my ear, still firmer locking; 
He still is ready, willing to receive me. 
Is waiting now, but ah ! he soon may leave me. 

God calling yet ! — ^and I no answer giving ; 
I dread his yoke, and am in bondage living. 
Too long I linger, but not yet forsaken, 
He calls me still — O my poor heart, awaken ! 

Oh, calling yet ! — I can no longer tarry. 

Nor to my God a heart divided carry ; 

Now, vain and giddy world, your spells are broken, 

Sweeter than all ! the voice of God hath spoken. 



18. James Edmeston, a writer who seems to have 
sympathized deeply with piety in early childhood, was a 
London architect, and was born in 1791. He was a mem- 
ber of the Church of England. He wrote a collection of 
hymns for cottagers, which was followed by one hundred 
hymns for Sunday-schools. Many of his hymns were 
written week by week, to be read, at the family devotions 
at his own home on Sunday morning. He was a friend 
of Mrs. Lake. The following favorite hymn is his : 

Little travellers Zionward, 

Each one entering into rest, 
In the kingdom of your Lord, . 

In the mansions of the blest ; 



J 



i66 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

There to welcome Jesos waits, 
Gives the crown his followers win ; 

lift your heads, ye golden gates. 
Let the little travellers in. 

Who are they whose little feet, 

Pacing life's dark journey through, 
Now have reached that heavenly seat 

They had ever kept in view ? 
" I, from Greenland's frozen land ;" 

"I, from India's sultry plain;" 
"I, from Afric's barren sand;" 

" I, from islands of the main." 
"All our earthly jonmey passed, 

Every tear and pain gone by, 
Here together met at last 

At the portal of the sky, 
Each the welcome ' Come ' awaits, 

Conquerors over death and sin." 
Lift your heads, ye golden gates, 

Let the little travellers in. 

19. "Land in sight!" said John Adams, when dying. 
He was one of the mutineers of the " Bounty." He had 
dwelt on Pitcairn Island for forty years, building up a 
religious community in that " Paradise of the Pacific." 

" Are you happy ?" asked one who stood by his 
death-bed. 

"Rounding the cape into the harbor," was the jubi- 
lant answer. 

Nearer drew the saintly. man to the celestial pros- 
pects ; calmer became the haven. 

" Let go the anchor," he exclaimed, and the Christian 
pioneer was no more. 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 167 

This religious experience became the subject of the 
following Sunday-school hymn : 

Land ahead ! its fruits are waving 
O'er the hills of fadeless green ; 
And the living waters laving 
Shores where heavenly forms are seen. 

Chorus — Rocks and storms I '11 fear no more, 
When on that eternal shore ; 
Drop the anchor ! furl the sail ! 
I am safe within the veil. 

Onward, bark ! the cape I 'm rounding ; 

See, the blessed wave their hands ; 
Hear the harps of God resounding 

From the bright immortal bands. — Cho. 

There let go the anchor, riding 

On this calm and silvery bay ; 
Seaward fast the tide is gliding. 

Shores in sunlight stretch away. — Cho. 

Now we 're safe from all temptation, 

All the storms of life are past; 
Praise the Rock of our salvation, 

We are safe at home at last. — Cho. 

20. The author of the following hymn, which is one 
of those recent productions which seem to be growing in 
the aflEections of the church, is Rev. J. H. Gilmore, now a 
professor in Rochester University, New York.' He gives 
the following experience, as associated with its origin : 

" I believe myself to be the author of ' He leadeth 
me.' Further, it was written in Philadelphia. I had 
made a talk at the Wednesday evening lecture of the 
First Baptist church, on the twenty-third Psalm ; and, 



i68 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

while a few of us were developing the subject a little 
farther in Deacon Watson's parlor, I jotted the hymn 
down in pencil precisely as it now stands — save that the 
refrain has sinct been added by another hand — and 
passed the paper to my wife, who sent it, without my 
knowledge, to the ' Watchman and Reflector/ 

" The first time that I knew it had found its way into 
the hymn-books, was on the day on which I first entered 
the Second Baptist chapel in Rochester, to take a view 
of the surroundings before appearing before the church 
as a candidate. ' What do they sing in their social meet- 
ings ?* I queried ; and the ' Devotional Hymn and Tune 
Book' opened, of its own accord, to my own hymn, * He 
leadeth me.' " 

He leadeth me ! Oh, blessed thought, 
Oh, words with heavenly comfort fraught ; 
Whatever I do, where'er I be, 
Still *t is God's hand that leadeth me ! 

He leadeth me ! he leadeth me I 

By his own hand he leadeth me ; 

His faithful follower I would be, 

For by his hand he leadeth me. 

Sometimes 'mid scenes of deepest gloom. 
Sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom. 
By waters still, o'er troubled sea — 
Still 't is His hand that leadeth me ! 
He leadeth me, etc. 

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. 
He leadeth me, etc. 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMNS. 169 

And when my task on earth is done, 
When, by thy grace, the victory 's won, 
E'en death's cold wave I will not flee, 
Since God through Jordan leadeth me. 
He leadeth me, etc. 

21. The song, "I am so glad that our Fathfer in 
Heaven," by Mr. P. P. Bliss, an American composer, 
is very popular in Scotland as well as in America, and 
has been a leading tone in the services of the recent 
great revivals across the sea. It was suggested to Mr. 
Bliss by hearing the chorus, 

" Oh, how I love Jesus." 

The thought came to him, " 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. 

Though I forget him, and wander away, 
Kindly he follows wherever I stray ; 
Back to his dear, loving arms would I flee, 
When I remember that Jesus loves me. 

Oh, if there 's only one song I can sing, 
^yhen in his beauty I see the great King, 
This shall my song in eternity be — 
Oh, what a wonder that Jesus loves me. 

22. The song, "I gave my Life for thee," was sug- 
gested to Mr. Bliss, by a motto which a Gcman cler- 

Story of Us'iun*. 15 



170 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

gyman placed under a picture of " Christ oh the cross." 
It is said that Count Zinzendorf owed his early Christian 
experience to this motto, which brought vividly before 
his young mind his obligations to Christ : 

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 ? 

My Father's house of light. 

My rainbow-circled throne, 
I left for earthly night. 

For wanderings sad and lone ; 
I left it all for thee ; 
Hast thou left aught for me 

And I have brought to thee, 

Down from my home above, 
Salvation full and free. 

My pardon and my love. 
Great gifts I brought to thee ; 
What hast thou brought to me ? 

Oh ! let thy life be given. 

Thy years for me be spent. 
World-fetters all be riven, 

And joy with suffering blent 
I gave myself for thee ; 
Give thou thyself to me. 




V. SEAMEN'S HYMNS. 



1. FIERCE WAS THE WILD BILLOW, 

2. JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL. 

3. WHEN THROUGH THE TORN SAIL. 

4. 'LISTED IN THE CAUSE OF SIN. 

5. / HEAR THE TEMPEST'S A WFUL SOUND. 



ORIGIN OF SEAMEN'S HYMNS. 



The principal seamen's hymn of the eariy church 
was that of St. Anatolius. It has lately been introduced 
into modern psalmody, being one of the happiest transla- 
tions of Dr. John Mason Neale. Dr. Neale has not only 
clearly given the sense of the original, but has preserved 
the part of the Nicene creed— the " God of God," " Light 
of Light," and "Truth of Truth" — ^which it repeats. Its 
inspiration may have been drawn from the storms that 
beset the church, or from the tempests that darkened 
the Ionian seas. 

Fierce was the wild billow, 

Dark was the night ; 
Oars labored heavily, 

Foam glimmered white ; 
Mariners trembled, 

Peril was nigh : 
Then said the God of God, 

" Peace ! it is I." 

Ridge of the mountain wave, 

Lower thy crest ! 
Wail of Euroclydon, 

Be thou at rest ! 
Peril can none be, 

Sorrow must fly, 
When saith the Light of Light, 

"Peace! it is L" 

15* 



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ORIGIN OF SEAMEN'S HYMNS. 175 

such joy in finding I could hope as the world can neithei 
give nor take away. I had that conviction of the powei 
of God present with me, overruling fear, and raising me 
above what I am by nature, as surpassed all rational evi- 
dence." On the storm subsiding, he wrote : " Towards 
morning the sea heard and obeyed the divine voice, 
* Peace, be still.' My first business to-day — may it be 
the first business of all my days — was to offer up the 
sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving." 

" All praise to the Lord, 
Who rules with a word 
Th' untractable sea." 

Bishop Heber's matchless hymn beginning, 

" When through the torn sail 

The wild tempest is streaming," 

was written after similar experiences. The bishop took 
an affectionate interest in the humblest sailors during 
his voyages. "Only to think," said a grateful seaman, 
" of such a great man as the bishop coming between 
decks to pray with such poor fellows as we." 

" O Jesus ! once tossed 

On the breast of the billow, 
Aroused by the shriek 

Of despair from thy pillow, 
High now in thy glory, 

The mariner cherish. 
Who cries in his anguish, 

* Lord, save, or we perish.' " 

Many of our readers have doubtless seen in old h)min- 
books a spirited hymn beginning with this singular 
stanza: 



ij6 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

" 'Listed in the cause of sin, 
Why should a good be evil ? 
Music, alas 1 has too long been 
Pressed to obey the devil." 

The hymn is ascribed to Charles Wesley, and the 
quoted stanza must have struck the reader as a marked 
exception to the mellifluent numbers of this most careful 
and cultured lyrist. It was composed amid the roughest 
scenes of his itinerant preaching in Cornwall, when mobs 
set upon him in every town, among whom were the 
wreckers, a class of sea-robbers long passed away. 

The Cornish seamen always loved to sing that hymn, 
and the Old Methodists of Cornwall delighted to tell the 
story of its origin. 

" My father knew all about that hymn," said a Cornish 
man to a recent English writer. " Mr. C. Wesley had 
just begun a hymn in the open-air, intending to preach 
to the gathering crowd, when some half-drunken fellows 
came and struck up the tune of * Nancy Dawson.* Be- 
tween the hymn and their song it was sorry music, but 
the preacher's ear was quick enough to catch the metre 
of their song, and to master their tune there and then. He 
invited them to come again by-and-by, when he would be 
there and sing a song to their tune. They came and he 
gave out a new hymn made for the occasion. The merry 
tars seemed to enjoy the hymn more than their old song. 

" A cheery thing," added the Cornishman, " it was to 
hear my father sing it, just as the old folks, he said, used 
to sing it. I used to sing it with him. He and I shall 
join again by-and-by, and * Heaven be ours for ever/ 



f »» 



I 



ORIGIN OF SEAMEN'S HYMNS, 177 

The following stanzas exhibit the spirit of the hymn 

" Come let us see if Jesus' love 
Will not as well inspire us ; 
This is the theme of those above : 
This upon earth shall fire us. 

" Say, if your hearts are tuned to sing, 
Is there a subject greater ? 
Harmony all its strains may bring, 
But Jesus' name is sweeter. 

" Then let us in his praises join, 
Triumph in his salvation. 
Glory ascribe to love divine. 
Worship and adoration. 

" Heaven already is begun, 
Open to each believer ; 
Only believe and still go on, 
Heaven is ours for ever." 

About one hundred and twenty years ago, there wan- 
dered among the palm groves of Sierra Leone, a young 
Englishman, who had fallen so low as to be shunned 
even by the rude traders on the coast, and by the Afri- 
can slaves. He had little clothing; he went hungry, 
and often was obliged to subsist upon roots. His life 
was not only stained with vice, but with viciousness in its 
most disgusting forms. He had a pious mother, and the 
memory of her counsels and prayers, like good angels, 
followed him in all of his wanderings. Escaping at last 
from the coast, he secured a passage for England. 

During the homeward voyage the ship encountered 
a terrible storm. " I began to pray," he said. " I could 



178 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

not utter the prayer of faith. My prayer was like the 
cry of the ravens, which yet the Lord does not disdain 
tt) hear." The storm subsided, but the young man, sick 
at last of sin, continued to pray. God revealed his sal- 
vation to him on the ocean, and out of this deep expe- 
rience, came the sailor's hymn, beginning, 

" I hear the tempest's awful sound, 
I feel the vessel's quick rebound ; 
And fear might now my bosom fill, 
But Jesus tells me, * Peace ! be still. 

* In this dread hour I cling to thee, 
My Saviour crucified for me. 
If that I perish be thy will, 
In death, Lord, whisper, * Peace ! be still.' " 

That young man was John Newton, the rector of St; 
Woolnoth, London, the friend of Cowper, and the writer 
of a part of the Olney Hymns. 




VL INDIAN HYMNS. 



1. IN DE DARK WOOD, NO INDIAN NIGffy^ 

2. WHEN SHALL WE THREE MEET AGAIN. 

3. PARTED MANY A TOIL-SPENT YEAR. 



INDIAN HYMNS. 



In de dark wood, no Indian nigh, 
Den me look heaben, and 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 he angels take me care ; 
He come heself and hear my prayer, 

If inside 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 '11 praise 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. 

16 



i82 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Few days, den God will come to me, 
He knock oil 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 diflferenl 
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 In- 
dian, who was bom in Massachusetts in 1798. His 
father was a white man, but married an Indian descend- 
ed 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. 

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 
Indians, and were used in the churches. The best known 
is that beginning, 

" When shall we three meet again ?" 

It was composed by three Indians at the planting of a 
memorial pine on leaving Dartmouth College, where they 



INDIAN HYMNS, 183 

had been receiving a Christian education. The stanzas 
which follow are particularly fine : 

" Though in distant lands we sigh, 
Parched beneath a burning sky, 
Though the deep between us roUs^ 
Friendship shall unite our souls ; 
And in fancy's wide domain, 
There we three shall 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 three shall meet again." 

These Indians afterwards met in the same place and 
composed another hymn, which is as beautiful and touch- 
ing. It begins : 

" 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." 



VIL RECENT HYMN-WRITERS 
AND THEIR HYMNS. 



1. FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER. 

2. REV. JOHN KEBLE. 

3. HORA TIUS BONAR, D. D. 

4. CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT 

5. SARAH FLOWER ADAMS. 

6. PHCEBE CARY. 

7. RA V PALMER, D. D. 

8. REV. HENRY FRANCIS LYTE. 

9. REV. yOHN HENRY NEWMAN. 



16* 




, •>. Jl 



RECENT HYMN-WRITERS AND 

THEIR HYMNS. 



FABER, 

Frederick William Faber, the author of some of 
tne most finished, ornate, and peculiarly beautiful poems 
of the present generation of hymn-writers, was born 
in 1 815, was early schooled at Harrow, and graduated 
at Oxford, in 1836. He was a minister of the Estab- 
lished church for some ten years, but at the age of 
thirty-one he became a communicant of the church of 
Rome. After the change in his views, he established a 
brotherhood of priests at London, and lived a somewhat 
secluded and ascetic life. He died in 1863. 

His hymns are flowers from both Catholic and Prot- 
estant soil, but are generally as liberal in spirit as they 
are pure in diction and lofty in sentiment. He had 
many religious doubts and conflicts, and his life, though 
uneventful, was one of peculiar experiences. He died in 
the prime of manhood, yet lived to say : 

" A weary actor, I would fain 
Be quit of my long part, 
The burden of unquiet life 
Lies heavy on my heart." 

Both of the hymns which we give, are from a collec- 
tion of Faber*s poems, called "Oratory Hymns," and 



i88 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

are colored by his own religious feelings. They indi- 
cate his unrest, and his expectation of peace at last. 
They are founa in both Protestant and Catholic collec- 
tions. 

I. 

Hark ! hark, my soul ! angelic songs are swelling 

O'er earth's green j&elds and ocean's wave-beat shore ; 
How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling 
Of that new life when sin shall be no more ! 
Angels of Jesus, 

Angels of light. 
Singing to welcome 
The pilgrims of the night 

Onward we go, for still wc hear them singing, 
" Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come ;" 

And through the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing, 
The music of the gospel leads us home. 
Angels of Jesus, fete. 

Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing. 
The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea, 

And laden souls by thousands meekly stealing 
Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to thee. 
Angels of Jesus, etc. 

Rest comes at length, though life be long and dreary. 
The day must dawn, and darksome night be past ; 

All journeys end in welcome to the weary, 
And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last. 
Angels of Jesus, etc. 

Angels, sing on ! your faithful watches keeping ; 

Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above ; 
Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping. 

And life's long night shall break in endless love. 
Angels of Jesus, etc. 



RECENT HYMN' WRITERS. 1 89 

II. 

O Paradise, O Paradise ! 

Who doth not crave for rest ? 
Who would not seek the happy land 
Where they that loved are blest ? 
Where loyal hearts and true 

Stand ever in the light, 
All rapture through and through. 
In God's most holy sight. 

O Paradise, O Paradise ! 

The world is growing old ; 
Who would not be at rest and free 

Where love is never cold ? 
Where loyal hearts and true, etc. 

Paradise, O Paradise ! 
'T is weary waiting here ; 

1 long to be where Jesus is. 
To feel, to see him near ; 

Where loyal hearts and true, etc. 

Paradise, O Paradise ! 
I want to sin no more, 

1 want to be as pure on earth 
As on thy spotless shore ; 

Where loyal hearts and true, etc. 

O Paradise, O Paradise ! 

I greatly long to see 
The special place my dearest Lord 
In love prepares for me ; 
Where loyal hearts and true 

Stand ever in the light. 
All rapture through and through, 
In God*s most holy sight. 



J90 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

KEBLE. 

Sun of my soul I thou Saviour dear, 
It is not night if thou be near: 
Oh, may no earth-bom cloud arise 
To hide thee from thy servant's eyes. 

When the soft dews of kindly sleep 
My wearied eyelids gently steep, 
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest 
For ever on my Saviour's breast. 

Abide with me from mom till eve, 
For without thee I cannot live ; 
Abide with me when night is nigh, 
For without thee I dare not die. 

If some poor wandering child of thine 
Have spumed, to-day, the voice divine. 
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; 
Let him no more lie down in sin. 

Watch by the sick ; enrich the poor 
With blessings from thy boundless store : 
Be every mourner's sleep to-night 
Like infant's slumbers pure and light 

Come near and bless us when we wake, 
Ere through the world our way we take ; 
Till in the ocean of thy love 
We lose ourselves in heaven above. 

This hymn is from Keble's " Christian Year," a book 
that embodies many choice Christian experiences, which 
have been recognized with gratitude by the universal 
church, although especially written for those whose wor- 
ship follows the set forms of the Church of England. 
Mr. Keble lived a quiet, retired life, and drank from 
spiritual fountains in secluded places ; but his rare gifts 



RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 1 9 1 

were devoted to the service of others, and he. has won by 
the affectionate purity and the jleep spiritual insight of 
his poetic writings, a large place in the heart of the 
Christian world. 

We condense from an English periodical some ac- 
count of his uneventful yet ever-fruitful life. 

As beautiful and venerable a reputation as any treas- 
ured up in the annals of the English church, is that of 
the author of the " Christian Year," for upwards of thirty 
years vicar of Hursley and rector of Otterboume. It is 
not too much to say that when he breathed his last at 
seventy-four years of age, in the spring of 1866, he not 
only did so, within the recognition of men of every kind 
of Christian belief, in the odor of sanctity, but that he 
had enjoyed already for half a century what was thence- 
forth embalmed by death into an exquisite memory, the 
blended fame of a saint and a poet. His whole life, it 
may be said quite truly, was passed within the shadow 
of the sanctuary. For fifty years together, his father, 
who survived until his ninetieth year, was the vicar of 
Coin Saint Aldwyn. There it was, under the roof-beams 
of the old parsonage, that John Keble was born, on the 
2Sth April, 1792. 

On the 20th May, 181 3, Keble had taken his degree 
of M. A. Parochial work began for him immediately 
upon his ordination. It ceased only with his life — fifty 
years afterwards. 

In 1823 Keble withdrew from a conspicuous and 
lucrative position as tutor and examiner at the Univer- 
sity of Oxford, and retired to the seclusion of Fairford, 



I 



192 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

entering upon duties as curate of three small parishes ; 
an act of Christian humility whose golden rewards were 
yet unseen. The three curacies together did not include 
a population of three thousand. The entire receipts ac- 
cruing to him in connection with them aU, did not amount 
to more than about ;;£ioo a year. He was happy in his 
surroundings, however, and in his avocations, but above 
all thrice happy in his sacred calling. Covertly, too, he 
was wandering all this while, since as far back as in 
1 8 19, in a green and flowery pleasaunce of his own, in 
which his serene fancy made a sunshine in the shadiest 
place, and where his spirit secretly heard the plash ana 
tinkling of celestial fountains. Little by little, one by 
one, he was composing at Oxford, at Fairford, by the 
Isis, by the Coin, in the gardens, in the meadows, un- 
known except to the inner circle of his most intimate 
friends, those beautiful lyrics which, under the title of 
the " Christian Year," when completed, some four years 
after the date at which we have arrived, sprang at once 
into such resplendent celebrity, achieving a success that 
has been maintained undiminished ever since, and that 
is simply and absolutely unparalleled. 

Another temptation was held out to Keble early in 
1824. William Hirt Coleridge had just then been select- 
ed to fill one of the two newly-created sees in the West 
Indies, as Bishop of Barbadoes. A couple of archdea- 
conries were in his gift, each worth ;£2,cx)0 a year, and 
one of these he urgently pressed upon Keble's accept- 
ance. Dazzled though he may have been for a passing 
moment by this offer to advance him per saltum to the 



RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 1 93 

position of archdeacon of Barbadocs, the gifted but sim- 
ple-minded curate of Southrop, Eastleach, and Burthorpe 
declined it, nevertheless, unhesitatingly. His home-ties, 
his father's increasing age and infirmities, his tender re- 
gard for his two sisters — his different affection for whom 
he prettily typified by speaking of his "wife" Margaret 
and his "sweetheart" Mary Anne — held him securely, by 
preference, to his lowlier position as a working curate 
in Gloucestershire. The song-bird that soars highest 
towards heaven among the dews and sunbeams, makes 
its nest," by preference, not in an eyrie or in the tree-top, 
but among the grass or between the furrows of a cornfield. 
During eight years altogether — that is, from 18 19 to 
1 827 — Keble had been gradually preparing what at length 
made its appearance as his masterpiece : " The Christian 
Year." It had germinated, grown, and expanded under 
his hand very gradually and at first almost imperceptibly. 
It was with no affected reluctance that he at length, 
yielding to the importunity of those immediately around 
him, consented to its appearance. His father, who was 
every day, it seemed, descending nearer and nearer tow- 
ards the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow, expressed 
an eager solicitude to witness its publication. The man- 
uscript passed into the printer's hands, and the proofs, 
one by one, found their way to Fairford for the author's 
timid and ever-wincing correction. His own preference 
would have been that they should have appeared post- 
humously. Against his judgment, however, it was de- 
cided otherwise by those to whose opinions he deferred. 
On the 23d June, 1827, the "Christian Year" was first 

story of Hymu«. X7 



1 94 THE STOR V OF THE HYMNS, 

published. It stole its way into the public heart instant- 
ly. It influenced all it came across with a spell of fasci- 
nation. Its success was emotional rather than a matter 
of reasoning and of criticism. Keble's readers were like 
those who listened to some sweet and delicious melody 
chanted by a singer who was hidden from view in the 
twilight. Their hearts were moved, their nerves thrilled, 
their eyes glistened, they were charmed by a voice that 
was at once new and yet familiar. Before the December 
of that year was out, a second edition had been required. 
In 1828, the third made its appearance. One followed 
another in rapid succession. When but a little more 
than a quarter of a century had elapsed, forty-three edi- 
tions had been exhausted, 108,000 copies had already 
even then passed into circulation. Before its author's 
life was completed and crowned by a death so serene 
and calm that it was a veritable euthanasia, the astonish- 
ing number of ninety-two editions of the " Christian Year" 
had passed from the hands of his publishers. 



HORA TIUS BONAR, D. D. 

HoRATius BoNAR, whosc hymns are among the sweet 

minor tones that are yearly growing in the love of the 

church, was bom in Edinburgh, in 1808, and was educa- 

cated at Edinburgh University. Religious impressions 

were early made upon his mind, and his mental conflicts 

ended in the peace of Christ : 

" I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
* Come unto me and rest : 
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down 
Thy head upon my breast.' 



RECENT HYMN' WRITERS. 195 

I came to Jesus as I was, 

Weary, and worn, and sad, 
I found in him a resting-place. 

And he has made me gkd. 

" I heard the voice of Jesus say, 

* I am this dark world's light. 
Look unto me, thy mom shall rise 

And all thy day be bright.' 
I looked to Jesus, and I found 

In him my star, my sun : 
And in that light of life I '11 walk. 

Till all my journey's done." 

In his early manhood he felt an inward inspiration to 
become a minister, and to give his life to others, and he 
obeyed the voice speaking within him, and was ordained at 
Kelso in 1837. 

He entered upon the work of carrying the Word of 
Life to others, with an unusual ardor and unsparing zeal. 
The young minister began to publish tracts and hymns, on 
subjects connected with his religious work and inward 
experience. His Kelso tracts began to appear in 1839. 
One of these entitled " Believe and Live" attained the circu- 
lation of 750,cxx) copies. Christ and the love of Christ 
were the themes of his sermons, his tracts, and his songs : 

" I lay my wants on Jesus ; 

All fulness dwells in him ; 
He heals all my diseases. 

He doth my soul redeem. 
I lay my griefs on Jesus, 

My burdens and my cares ; 
He from them all releases, 

He all my sorrow shares. 



196 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

" I rest my soul on Jesus, 

This weary soul of mine ; 
His right hand me embraces, 

I on his breast recline. 
I love the name of Jesus, 

Immanuel, Christ, the Lord; 
Like fragrance on the breezes 

His name abroad is poured." 

He was an advocate of the Free Church of Scotland, 
and was one of the glorious band of ministers who re^ 
nounced their livings, when, in 1843, the church threw 
off the thraldom of state. He has published several vol- 
umes of sacred poetry, the best known of which is " Hymns 
of Faith and Hope." As a lyric poet he has hard- 
ly a superior. The following — an expression of personal 
experience — is perhaps one of his best-known and most 
expressive hymns : 

Fade, fade each earthly joy ; 

Jesus is mine ! 
Break, every tender tie ; 

Jesus is mine ! 
Jesus alone can bless ; 
Dark is the wilderness ; 
Earth has no resting-place ; 

Jesus is mine ! 

Tempt not my soul away ; 

Jesus is mine ! 
Here would I ever stay ; 

Jesus is mine ! 
Perishing things of clay, 
Born but for one brief day. 
Pass from my heart away, 

Jesus is mine ! 



RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 197 

Farewell, ye dreams of night, 

Jesus is mine ! 
Lost in this dawning bright, 

Jesus is mine ! 
All that my soul has tried 
Left but a dismal void ; 
Jesus has satisfied ; 

Jesus is mine ! 

Farewell, mortality : 

Jesus is mine ! 
Welcome, eternity : 

Jesus is mine ! 
Welcome, O loved and blest ; 
Welcome, sweet scenes of rest ; 
Welcome, my Saviour's breast : 

Jesus is mine ! 



CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT. 

This hymn writer, to whom we have made a brief 
reference elsewhere, in connection with the hymn, be- 
ginning " Just as I am, without one plea," was the third 
daughter of Charles Elliott, Esq., of Clapham and Brigh- 
ton, England, and a granddaughter of Rev. John Venn, 
a name conspicuous in the great religious awakening of 
the last century. She was born in 1789. She lived to 
extreme old age, but was for the greater part of her life 
an invalid. 

She was highly educated and accomplished, and, 
possessing a warm social nature, she eagerly sought the 
companionship of gay society in an interval of restored 
health in early life. In the midst of this gay opening, she 
fell ill, and her mind became exercised about religion. 

17* 



\ 



198 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

After great inward conflicts, and much reading and 
praying, she was led to an insight of the way of life, and 
was enabled to accept Christ as her Saviour and Deliv- 
erer, thus fulfilling in spirit the sentiment which she 
afterwards embodied in her immortal hymn : 

Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that thy blood was shed for me, 
And that thou bid'st me come to thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come. 

Just as I am, and waiting not 
To rid my soul of one dark blot, 
To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, 
O Lamb of God, I come. 

Just as I am, though tossed about 
With many a conflict, many a doubt. 
Fightings and fears within, without, 
O Lamb of God, I come. 

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind — 
Sight, riches, healing of the mind. 
Yea, all I need, in thee to find, 
O Lamb of God, I come. 

Just as I am, thou wilt receive. 
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve ; 
Because thy promise I believe, 
O Lamb of God, I come. 

Just as I am, thy love imknown, 
Has broken every barrier down ; 
Now to be thine, yea, thine alone, 
O Lamb of God, I come. 

Just as I am, of that free love 
The breadth, length, depth, and height, to prove, 
Here for a season, then above — 
O Lamb of God, I come. 



RECENT HYMN' WRITERS. 199 

She became a close student of the Bible, and devoted 
the whole of her time and talent to religious work. 
She loved poetry, and possessed the gift of expressing 
her thoughts and feelings in verse, and this gift she also 
dedicated to the service of God. 

In 1823, a series of family bereavements led her to a 
higher religious life, and, under the inspiration of glow- 
ing conceptions of the love of Christ, and a conscientious 
zeal for the conversion of souls, she joined a district so- 
ciety, under the direction of Mrs. Fry and Rev. Edward 
Irving. She became an active worker for the church, 
and was also on intimate terms with Wilberforce, and 
an advocate of his schemes of philanthropy. 

In 1829, she became a chronic invalid. The lesson of 
resignation was at first hard to learn ; but she was pa- 
tient and teachable, and was brought through suffering 
to experience those heavenly dispositions of mind that 
make one strong in weakness, and bring to the soul the 
luminous discoveries of Christian faith. She writes of 
this experience : 

"Oh, many hard struggles and apparently fruitless 
ones it has cost me to become resigned to the appoint- 
ments of my Heavenly Father. But tJie sUuggle is now 
over. He knows, and he alone, what it is, day after day, 
hour after hour, to fight against bodily feelings of almost 
overpowering weakness, languor and exhaustion, to resolve 
not to yield to slothfulness, depression, and instability, 
such as the body causes me to long to indulge, but to 
rise every morning determined to take for my motto : 
* If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, 



I 



200 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

take up his cross daily and follow Me/" This discipline 

and resignation became the subject of one of her most 

loved hymns : 

My God, my Father, while I stray 

Far from my home, on life 's rough way, 

teach me from my heart to say, 

" Thy will be done." 

Though dark my path, and sad my lot, 
Let me be still and murmur not. 
Or breathe the prayer divinely taught, 
" Thy will be done." 

What though in lonely grief I sigh 
For friends beloved no longer nigh. 
Submissive still would I reply, 
" Thy will be done." 

If thou shouldst call me to resign 
What most I prize — it ne'er was mine ; 

1 only yield thee what is thine — 

" Thy will be done." 

Let but my fainting heart be blest 
With thy sweet Spirit for its guest. 
My God, to thee I leave the rest : 
" Thy wiU be done." 

Renew my will from day to day, 
Blend it with thine, and take away 
All that now makes it hard to say, 
" Thy will be done." 

The larger number of her hymns were published un- 
der the following circumstances: In 1834, she became 
acquainted with Miss Kiernan, a benevolent woman of 
Dublin, who, in her last illness, began the preparation of 
a hymn-book for invalids. After her death, the work was 
put into the hands of Charlotte Elliott to finish. It was 



RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 201 

a work in which she was in sympathy, and peculiarly 
fitted to complete. She added a large number ol 
hymns of her own composition, among them that begin- 
ning "Just as I am/' The sale of this collection ol 
hymns reached nearly 20,000 copies. 

The hymn " Just as I am" was printed, unknown to 
the writer, on leaflets, for gratuitous distribution, and 
her physician once brought one these to her, not knowing 
that she had written it. "I know," he said, "that this 
will please you." It did indeed please her to know that 
in her own helplessness her life was helpful to others. 

She lived to be an octogenarian. Her last manifes- 
tation of consciousness on her sick-bed was when her 
sister read to her the Scripture lesson on the morning of 
her death : "Thine eyes shall see the King in his beau- 
ty." She was observed to raise her eyes to heaven, and 
a sudden glow of joy seemed to illumine her countenance. 



SARAH FLOWER ADAMS. 

THE AUTHOR OF "NEAREB, MY GOD, TO THEE." 

Perhaps no hymn, since the publication of Perronet's 
" All hail the power of Jesus' name," in 1785, has received 
so wide and deserving a popularity as that beginning, 
" Nearer, my God, to thee." It finds a place in all collections 
of hymns in the English tongue, and is a favorite alike 
in Trinitarian and Unitarian churches. It has been trans- 
lated into many languages, and has followed the triumphs 
of the Gospel in heathen lands. It is the best metrical 
expression of the desire for a more intimate spiritual ac- 



A 



202 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

quaintance with God, and the riches of his grace, that 
we have in modem psalmody. It is a fresh and touch- 
ing expression of the same yearning aspirations toward 
God that we prize in Cowper's " Oh, for a closer walk 
with God," which it succeeds in popular favor. It ex- 
presses a willingness to know God through the disci- 
pline of affliction ; to descend into the valleys in the 
ascent of that spiritual mountain whose summit is ever- 
lasting light. 

Its imagery embraces the associations of one of 
the most sublime and interesting religious experiences 
recorded in the early Hebrew Scriptures— Jacob's vision 
at Luz. " And he lighted upon a certain place," says 
the Scripture of Jacob's wanderings, " and tarried there 
all night, because the sun was set ; and he took of the 
stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and 
lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed, and 
behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it 
reached to heaven ; and behold the angels of God as- 
cending and descending on it." The hymn almost liter- 
ally reproduces this delightful passage : 

" Though like the wanderer. 

The sun gone down, 
Darkness be over me, 

My rest a stone. 
Yet in my dreams I *d be 
Nearer, my God, to thee, 

Nearer to thee." 

The scriptural account of the waking of Jacob on the 
morning after the vision is as vividly brought to mind in 
the figures used in the fourth stanza of the hymn : 



RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 203 

" Then with my waking thoughts 

Bright with thy praise, 
Out of my stony grief 

Bethel I '11 raise ; 
So by my woes to be 
Nearer, my God, to thee, 

Nearer to thee." 



Mrs. Sarah Flower Adams, the author of the hymn, 
was the younger of two daughters of Benjamin Flower, 
an English wiriter and editor. She was born in 1805. 
Her mother, a lady of culture, refined feelings and senti- 
ments, died early in life. 

Her elder sister s name was Eliza. The strongest 
attachment existed between the two sisters ; both pos- 
sessed the fine feelings of their mother, and were fond 
of books, music, poetry, and art. Their aesthetic tastes 
discovered themselves in childhood, and girlhood to 
them was a glowing season of aspiration and expectancy. 
Eliza turned her attention to music and musical com- 
position, and her sister to religious poetry. They were 
Unitarian in their church relations, but their piety was 
gauged by devotional feeling and high religious attain- 
ments, rather than by denominational requirements or 
any sectarian views. 

" Eliza Flower," says a critic, " attained a higher rank 
in musical composition, than before her time had been 
reached by any of Jier sex. Sarah Flower made the 
composition of poetry her occupation, while her sister 
pursued her musical studies. In 1834, she married Will- 
iam Bridges Adams, an eminent engineer, and a contribu- 



A 



204 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

tor to the best periodical literature In 1841, she pub- 
lished a dramatic poem in five acts, entitled, " Vivia Per- 
petua," in which she portrays the religious life, sufferings 
strong faith, and endurance, of the early martyrs. 

The hymn " Nearer, my God, to thee," was a record of 
her own religious experience, and was written as a me- 
morial of answered prayer, probably without any expec- 
tation that it would be of public service. It was fur- 
nished with thirteen other hymns to Charles Fox's col- 
lection of " Hymns and Anthems," published in Lon- 
don, in 1 841. 

The cares of married life in nowise abated her early 
attachment to her equally gifted sister. Regarding 
"Vivia Perpetua" as the fruit of their joint aspirations and 
studies, she dedicates it to her sister in some lines in 
which occurs the following tender sentiment : 

" In thy content, I win a wreath more bright 

Than earth's wide garden ever could supply ; 
Ah, me ! I think me still how poor a strain ! 
And fly for refuge to thy love again." 

Her sister's health beginning to decline and evidences 
of pulmonary consumption appearing, she devoted her- 
self to the invalid's room with unceasing watchfulness and 
self -forgetful care. Eliza Flower died in 1847. Mrs. 
Adams never recovered from the shock of the separation. 
Her religious aspirations, always strong, seemed now to 
receive a heavenly impulse. Her health gradually de- 
clined, and, in 1849, two years after her sister's death, 
she too peacefully fell asleep. 



RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 205 

In her hymn, she gives expression to the following jubi- 
lant expectation : 

"Or if. on joyful wing, 
Cleaving the sky, 
Sun, moon, and stars forgot. 

Upward I fly, 
Still all my song shall be, 
Nearer my God to thee, 
Nearer to thee." 

This hope seems to have been almost literally fulfilled 
in her death. We are told that " almost her last breath 
burst into unconscious song." 

The following hymn by Mrs. Adams seems to have 
been written in the same spirit as " Nearer, my God, to 
Thee." It was sung at her funeral : 

" He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower. 
Alike they 're needful to the flower ; 
And joys and tears alike are sent 
To give the soul fit nourishment ; 
As comes to me or cloud or sun, 
Father, thy will, not mine, be done. 

" Oh, ne'er will I at life repine. 
Enough that thou hast made it mine ; 
Where falls the shadow cold in death, 
I yet will sing with fearless breath ; 
As comes to me or shade or sun. 
Father, thy will, not'mine be done." 

The last stanza seems prophetic when we recall the 
song of praise that trembled on her dying lips. 



PHCEBE GARY. 

The grave has but recently closed over Phoebe Gary, 
the author of the following hymn, and one of the sweetest 

18 



\ 




2o6 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

American poets. She possessed a loving and trustful 
soul, and her life was an honor to true womanhood and 
a blessing to the poor. She had to struggle with hard- 
ship and poverty in her early years ; " I have cried in the 
street because I was poor," she said in her prosperous 
years, " and the poor always seem nearer to me than the 
rich." 

She was a member of the Church of the Pilgrims 
in New York, during the pastorate of Dr. Cheever. In 
her last years she attended the Church of the Stranger 
(Dr. Deems') in the same city. Her early years were 
passed in a simple rural home in the West, but after 
obtaining reputation as a writer she removed to New 
York where she was greatly loved for her modest worth, 
and where she became a quiet but influential leader in 
literary society. 

The hymn by which she is best known, and which 
will probably survive her other published works, is en- 
titled '* Nearer Home." 

One sweetly solemn thought 

Comes to me o'er and o'er, 
I am nearer home to-day, 

Then I ever have been before. 

Nearer my Father's house, 

Where the many mansions be, 
Nearer the great white throne, 

Nearer the crystal sea. 

Nearer the bound of life, 
Where we lay our burdens down, 

Nearer leaving the cross 
Nearer gaining the crown. 



RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 207 

But lying darkly between, 
Winding down through shades of night. 

Is the silent unknown stream, 
That leads at last to the light 

Closer and closer my steps 

Come to the dread abysm, 
Closer death to my lips 

Presses the awful chrism. 

Oh, if my mortal feet. 

Have almost gained the brink. 
If it be that I 'm nearer home, 

Even to-day than I think. 

Father, perfect my trust. 

Let my spirit feel in death 
That her feet are firmly set 

On the rock of living faith. 

The author did not set a high intellectual value upon 
this composition at the time it was written, and she was 
surprised to find it outgrowing in popularity all of her 
more carefully penned and elaborate productions. 

It was a hymn of heart-experience. She thus gives 
an account of its origin in a letter to an esteemed friend : 

" I enclose the hymn for you. It was written eigh- 
teen years ago (1852) in your own house. I composed 
it in the the little back third story bedroom, one Sunday 
morning, after coming from church ; and it makes me 
very happy to think that any word I could say has done 
any good in the world." 

In its original form the hymn was very irregular and 
not adapted to be sung. Metrical versions have therefore 
been arranged by compilers, none of them quite satisfac- 
tory. The following is one of the best : 



\ 



2o8 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

One sweetly solemn thought 

Comes to me o'er and o*er : 
Nearer my going home am I 

Than e'er I Ve been before; 

Nearer my Father's house 

Where many mansions be, 
Nearer the throne where Jesus reigns, 

Nearer the crystal sea. 

Nearer the bound of life, 
Where we lay our burdens down, 

Leaving the cross of heavy grief 
Wearing the starry crown. 

Nearer the hidden stream 
Winding through shades of night, 

Rolling its cold, dark waves between 
Me and the world of light. 

Jesus, to tliee I cling ; 

Strengthen my arm of faith. 
Stand near me when my wayworn feet 
' Pass through the stream of death. 

Miss Cary died at Newport, R. I., Monday, July 31, 
1 87 1. Her remains were interred from New York, in 
Greenwood Cemetery, and this hymn was sung at her 
funeral. 

The following pleasing incident has been told of the 
influence of Miss Gary's hymn in a foreign land : 

Two Americans, one a young man, the other over 
forty, were drinking and playing at cards in a gambling 
house in Ghina. While the older one was shuffling the 
cards, the younger began to hum, and finally sung in a 
low tone, but quite unconsciously, this hymn. The older 
one threw down the cards on the floor and said, 




RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 209 

" Harry, where did you learn that hymn ?" 

" What hymn ?" 

" Why that one you have been singing." 

The young man said he did not know what he had 
been singing. But when the older one repeated some of 
the lines, he said they were learned in the Sunday-school. 

" Come, Harry," said the older one, " come, here *s 
what I Ve won from you. As for me, as God sees me, I 
have played my last game, and drank my last bottle. I 
have misled you, Harry, and I am sorry for it. Give me 
your hand, my boy, and say that, for old America's sake, 
if for no other, you will quit this infernal business." 

Col. Russel H. Conwell, of Boston, who was then vis- 
iting China, and was an eye-witness of the scene, says 
that the reformation was a permanent one. 



RA Y PALMER. 

My faith looks up to thee, 
Thou Lamb of Calvary : 

Saviour divine, 
Now hear me while I pray ; 
Take all my guilt away ; 
Oh let me from this day 

Be wholly thine. 

May thy rich grace impart 
Strength to my fainting heart : 

My zeal inspire ; 
As thou hast died for me, 
O may my love to thee 
Pure warm and changeless be — 

A living fire. 

18* 



I 



aio THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

While life's dark maze I tread, 
And griefs around me spread, 

Be thou my Guide ; 
Bid darkness turn to day ; 
Wipe sorrow's tears away, 
Nor let me ever stray 

From thee aside. ' 

When ends life's transient dream ; 
When death's cold, sullen stream 

Shall o'er me roll ; 
Blest Saviour, then, in love 
Fear and distrust remove ; 
Oh bear me safe above, 

A ransomed soul. 

This hymn was written by Dr. Ray Palmer, about the 
year 1830. He was a student at the time, preparing for 
the ministry. His health was very poor, and his world; 
ly prospects clouded. He felt that the world could prom- 
ise him nothing, and in an hour of despondency, the 
young student turned, as his only help and resource, to 
the promises of God. Comforted in spirit by Him ** to 
whom all things are possible," he tells his experience 
and expresses his hope for the future in these lines. 

The hymn at first seems not to have been intended 
for publication. It was carried about in the writer's 
pocket for a considerable time. Meeting Dr. Lowell 
Mason, one day, he was asked to furnish a hymn for a 
tune then written or about to be composed. Dr. Palmer, 
then about twenty-two years of age, drew forth the poem 
he had written under these severe trials and interesting 
circumstances, and it was soon after published with the 
music by Dr. Mason. 



RECENT HYMN' WRITERS. a 1 1 

HENR Y FRANCIS L YTE, 

THE AUTHOR OF "ABIDE WITH ME." 

In the year 1818, an Episcopal minister at Marazion, 
Efigland, distinguished for his brilHant gifts, culture, and 
poetic tastes, was sent for by a neighboring clergyman, 
who felt that he was dying. The interview was a most 
solemn and impressive one. 

" I am about to die/' said the invalid, " and I am un- 
pardoned and quite unprepared." 

The two clergymen took their Bibles, and read to- 
gether the writings of St. Paul, in search of the way of 
spiritual peace. Prayer brought to each the desired 
blessing, the precious love of Christ. The latter died 
in triumph, and the former entered upon his mission in 
life with new views, new consolations, and a new zeal, 
consecrating all his powers, his social and poetic gifts to 
religion. 

This clergyman was Henry Francis Lyte. He was 
educated at Trinity College, Dublin, where his first poe- 
tic gifts appeared, and where he won a reputation as a 
scholar, competing successfully on three occasions for 
the prize offered for the best English poem. 

After his conversion, the high aspirations of lite- 
rary eminence that had formed a part of the dreams of 
his youth, changed. Gentle and childlike in spirit, he 
desired to serve God by laboring for the poor. 

In the year 1823, he entered upon the perpetual cu- 
racy of Dower Brixham, Devon, which he held till his 
death, laboring among a poor, rough, geafaring popula- 



i 



312 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

tion. These experiences and changes in life are ex- 
pressed in his much-loved hymn : 

''Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
All to leave and follow thee." 

Here, removed from the cultivated circles of England, 
with the expressionless coast and the great sea perpet- 
tually foaming before him, he labored with a brotherly 
tenderness and a self-consuming zeal for the sailors. 
Like most men of genius he loved children ; he gathered 
a Sabbath-school of several hundred scholars, and he 
took especial pains in instructing and training a band of 
some seventy or eighty teachers for Sunday-school work- 
Here he composed the sympathetic lyrics which are 
found in nearly all collections of church psalmody. 
Nearly all of these hymns, which are among the most 
perfect in the language, and which have spread over the 
Christian world, were written for his own church, a body 
composed in the main of seafaring people on a rude 
English coast. 

His health was delicate, and the sword proved too 
sharp for the scabbard. In 1846, he found his strength 
failing and resolved to seek a reaction in travel. He 
had learned to love the poor, and his heart was wholly 
engrossed in his work among the sailors. He was pre- 
pared for death, but he yet wished to live. He felt, like 
Keats, that he had, as yet, accomplished nothing, that 
the influence that he had thus far been able to exert 
would quickly vanish from among mankind, and that his 
name would be '* writ in water" 



I 



RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 2 13 

In a poem entitied, " Declining Days/' he thus dis- 
closes the secret of his pure, sympathetic heart : 

" Might verse of mine inspire 

One virtuous aim, one high resolve impart ; 
Light in one drooping soul a hallowed fire, 
Or bind one broken heart, 

" Death would be sweeter then, 

More calm my slumber *neath the silent sod ; 
Might I thus live to bless my fellow-men, 
Or glorify my God." 

In the same poem he makes the following prayer, 
which was most remarkably answered : 

" Oh 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." 

It was the autunin of 1847 J the gloom of winter was 
already settling upon the coast, and the pomps of decay 
tinging the leaves. The pastor, who was now preparing 
to leave the parish, and who seemed like one already 
hovering over the verge of the grave, determined to 
speak to his dear people once more, perhaps for the last 
time. He dragged his attenuated form into the pulpit, 
and delivered his parting discourse, while the great tears 
rolled down the hardy faces of the worshippers. He 
then administered the Lord's Supper to his spiritual chil- 
dren. Tired and exhausted, but with his heart still swell- 
ing with emotion, he went home. The old poetic inspira- 
tion came over him, and he wrote the words and music of 
his last song. He had prayed that his last breath might 
be spent " swan-like," 



214 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

■' I n songs that may not die." 

and this effort was to prove a literal answer to his prayer* 
The poem composed under these interesting circum- 
stances was the following well-known hymn-chant : 

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. 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; 
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away. 
Change and decay in all around I see ; 

Thou who changest not, abide with me. 

1 need thy presence every passing hour ; 

What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power ? 
Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be ? 
Through cloud and sunshine. Lord, abide with me. 

I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless : 
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness 
Where is death's sting ? where, grave, thy victory ? 
I triumph still, if Thou 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 I 
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me. 

He went to Nice. There at the foot of the Maritime 
Alps, in the climate of perpetual summer, with the moun- 
tain torrents singing around him, and the splendid Med- 
iterranean before him, he passed the last days of his life. 
His death was that of a happy Christian poet. Like 
George Herbert and Charles Wesley, he sang while his 
strength lasted, and then quietly waited, till " risingf rom the 
sleep of death, he should join the hallelujahs of heaven.'* 



RECENT HYMN- WRITERS. 2 1 5 

JOHN II, NEWMAN. 

In the year 1833, an English Episcopal clergyman 
Rev. John Henry Newman, was sailing over the Mediter- 
ranean, when suffering from the effects of a recent and 
an alarming illness. His religious feelings were agitated 
by the dissensions in the church at home, and an mward 
spiritual conflict was working a change in his views, un- 
il, with perils at sea, sickness, doubt, and perplexity, he 
was made to feel that faith has but one reliance. In this 
state of mind, with a sky of Italian splendors and dangers 
above him, and the sea rocking the ship beneath, he 
composed one of the sweetest and most trustful of mod- 
ern hymns : 

Lead, Kindly Light, amid the 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 asked to see 
The distant scene ; one step enough for me. 

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou 

Shouldst lead me on ; 
I loved to choose and see my path ; but now 

Lead Thou me on. 
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, 
Pride ruled my will : remember not past years. 

So long thy power hath blest 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 mom those angel faces smile 
Which 1 have loved long since, and lost awhile. 



i 



VIII. AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 



1. Z>A'. ISAAC WATTS: PERSONAL HYMNS AND HYMNS 

ON SPECIAL OCCASIONS, 

2. CHARLES WESLEY: HYMNS FOR SPECIAL OCCASIONS. 

3. JAMES MONTGOMERY' HYMNS OF PERSONAL EX- 

PERIENCE, 

4. THOMAS OLIVERS: " THE GOD OF ABRAM PRAISE."* 

5. MADAM GUYON'S HYMNS. 



Sturj' or H>tnna. ]19 



A 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 



DR, ISAAC WATTS: 

PERSONAL HYMNS AND HYMNS ON SPECIAL OCCASIONS. 

The bicentennial of Dr. Watts has just been observed 
in England, and, among all the contributors to modern 
psalmody, no one has left a clearer and purer tone in the 
church. The calm, unsullied light of his fame is not 
dimmed ; his name holds a steady place as a benefactor, 
and his best thoughts, like ministering angels, still trav- 
erse every portion of the Christian world on the multitu- 
dinous wings of song. His tomb in the unconsecra- 
ted dust in Bunhill Fields still invites the grateful steps 
of the traveller, and his effigy in Westminster Abbey 
commands a larger respect than the busts of kings. 
Few men's thoughts have so lived in the thoughts ol 
others as have those of Dr. Watts.. 

The father of Dr. Watts was a deacon of the Inde- 
pendent church at Southampton. At the age of eighteen 
Isaac complained of the want of taste in the hymns then 
generally used, and was requested to produce something 
better. He accordingly wrote an original hymn for the 
close of a Sabbath service in Southampton. It was 
given out in the usual manner, by the clerk, and greatly 
pleased the worshippers. It was the hymn, beginning, 

" Behold the glories of the Lamb.'* 



220 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS, 

He was invited to write other hymns for use in the 
same church, and soon produced a sufficient number to 
make a book. The book met a demand of the times, 
and was immediately popular. 

Among his early hymns was one composed under 
very interesting circumstances. Dr. Watts was enamor- 
ed of Miss Elizabeth Singer, afterwards the celebrated 
Mrs. Rowe, who was greatly admired for her personal 
beauty, intellectual graces, and moral excellences. Some 
of the most accomplished men of the time were among 
her friends, and several offered her their hands. 

Dr. Watts proposed marriage to Miss Singer, and 
was rejected. He was small in stature and lacking in 
personal beauty. Miss Singer, in alluding to his intel- 
lectual worth, said that she "loved the jewel, but could 
not admire the casket that contained it." His disap- 
pointment was very great, and in the first shadow of it 
he thus exhibits the feelings of his heart: 

How vain are all things here below, 

How false, and yet how fair ! 
Each pleasure hath its poison too, 

And every sweet a snare. 

The brightest things below the sky 

Give but a flattering light ; 
We should suspect some danger nigh 

Where we possess delight. 

Our dearest joys and nearest friends, 

The partners of our blood. 
How they divide our wavering minds. 

And leave but half for God. 



^ 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. aai 

The fondness of a creature's love, 

How strong it strikes the sense ; 
Thither the warm affections move, 

Nor can we call them thence. 

My Saviour, let thy beauties be 

My soul's eternal food ; 
And grace command my heart away 

From all created good. 

The hymn, beginning, 

" There is a land of pure delight," 

associates itself with the natural scenery of Southamp- 
ton, his native town. It was written while he was sitting 
at the window of a parlor, overlooking the river Itchen, 
and in full view of the Isle of Wight. The landscape 
there is very beautiful, and forms a model for a poet to 
employ in describing allegorically the passage of the soul 
from earth to the paradise above. 

Watts lived a tranquil, uneventful liie, passing thirty- 
four years in the seclusion of Alney Park, a nobleman's 
seat, where he had been invited to make a home. His 
health was always delicate. He both preached and wrote, 
but his best efforts were given to his pen. 

A critical writer in the " Oxford Essays" fixes upon 
the hymn beginning, 

" When I survey the wondrous cross,' 

as Dr. Watts' best original effort; and pronounces the 
rendering of the ninetieth Psalm, beginning, 

" Our God, our help in ages past," 

as his finest paraphrase. The latter indeed not only pre- 
serves the sublime and lofty spirit, but the grand and 

19* 



A 



222 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS, 

shadowy imagery of the Hebrew lawgfiver's poetical con- 
templation : 

^ A thousand ages in thy sight, 
Are like an evening gone ; 
Short as the watch that ends the night. 
Before the rising sun. 

^ Time, like an ever-rolling stream. 
Bears all its sons away ; 
They fly, forgotten, as a dream 
Dies at the opening day. 

^ The busy tribes of flesh and blood, 
With all their cares and fears, 
Are carried* downward by the flood, 
And lost in following years." 

Probably none of Dr. Watts' hymns has been so 
widely used, and has held so steadily its character as the 
interpreter of a common religious experience, as that be- 
ginning, 

" When I can read my title clear, 
To mansions in the skies." 

The last stanza of this hymn, beginning, 

" There I shall bathe my weary soul 
In seas of heavenly rest," 

is supposed to have borrowed its pleasing imagery trom 
the scenery of the calm harbor of Southampton, in view 
of which it was written. Cowper seems to have taken 
his picture of the pious peasant woman's contentment 
and hope, in the famous allusion to Voltaire in the poem 
" Hope," from one of these stanzas. He speaks of the 
humble cottager as one who 



1 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 223 

" Just knows and knows no more, her Bible true, 
A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew, 
And in that charter reads with sparkling eyes 
Her title to a treasure in the skies." 

The hymn, beginning, 

"Jesus shall reign where'er the sim," 

which is in part a paraphrase of Psalm 72, is probably 
Watts' best ascription of praise, and his nearest approach 
to Bishop Ken's universal doxology. After five genera- 
tions of service, it now seems to have entered an almost 
new field as a foreign missionary hymn. 

Many of Watts' hymns were composed to be sung 
after special sermons, and were intended to combine the 
best thoughts of the subject on which the preacher had 
dwelt. Thus the hymn, beginning, 

" What shall a dying sinner do ?" 

was first sung after one of Dr. Watts' sermons from the 
text, Rom. i : 16, and was originally entitled, "The Gos- 
pel — the Power of God to Salvation." The hymn be- 
ginning, 

" And is this life prolonged to me ?" 

was written to follow a sermon on " The Right Improve- 
ment of Life," I Cor. 3 : 22. The hymn beginning, 

" How vast a treasure we possess," 

was written for a sermon on " The Christian Treasure," 
from the text, " All things are yours." 

Many pleasing anecdotes are associated with certain 
of Watts' hymns, as with certain of John and Charles 
Wesley's. The hymn, "Not all the blood of beasts," 





224 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

was found by an intelligent Jewess on a wrapper of some 
parcel she had received from a store, and made such an 
impression upon her mind that she was led to a perusal 
of the Bible, and to become a Christian. On announ- 
cing the change in her views, she was abandoned by her 
husband, and thereafter lived a life of great destitution, 
but consoled by a satisfying and comforting faith. Dr. 
Belcher gives an anecdote of a young man who found 
his heart hardened by a severe sermon on the punish- 
ments of sin, but who was asked to read the hymn, be- 
ginning, 

" Show pity, Lord ; O Lord, forgive." 

The hymn produced a total change in his feelings, and 
he left the room in tears, and soon after was made the 
partaker of a rich religious experience. Watt's hymn be- 
ginning, 

" I '11 praise my Maker while I 've breath," 

was sung by John Wesley when dying. 

Perhaps no hymn conveys a richer and riper religious 
experience, that accords with the best Christian senti- 
ment, than that beginning, 

" My God, the spring of all my joys." 

No stanza certainly was ever so often repeated in 
life's extremity, as the following : 

" Jesus can make a dying bed 

Feel soft as downy pillows are, 
While on his breast I lean my head, 
And breathe my life out sweetly there." 

The serene close of Dr. Watts* life was in harmony 
with the consolations of this stanza. " I thank God," he 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 225 

used to say in old age, " that I can lie down with comfort 
at night, not being solicitous whether I awake in this 
world or another." He spoke of his physical sufferings 
as enabling him to " bear the will of God when he could 
no longer do it." He requested that these words only, 
In uno yesu omnia, should follow the name and dates on 
his tomb. 



CHARLES WESLEY: 

HYMNS FOR SPECIAL OCCASIONS. 

Charles Wesley's hymns were written under a 
great variety of interesting circumstances, and nearly 
all furnish a record of personal experience. Thus his 
mellifluous hymn, beginning, 

" Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing," 

was written for the anniversary-day of one's conversion, 
probably just a year after his own conversion, thus being 
a retrospection. " Head of the church triumphant," was 
written during the war between England and France and 
Spain, and has reference to the Wesleyan persecutions 
in those troubled times. The hymn beginning, 

*• Glory to God, whose sovereign grace," 

has reference to the wonderful revival among the Kings- 
wood colliers, as do the hymns beginning, 

" Let all men rejoice, by Jesus restored," 

and 

" Brethren beloved, your calling see." 

The hymns, beginning, 



€ 



326 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

« God of my life, to thee," 
" Fountain of life, and all my joy," 
and 

" Away with our fears, the glad morning appears," 

were written on birthdays, and record th^ progress of 
spiritual attainment and experience. 

" Come, O thou all-victorious Lord, 
Thy power to us make known ; 
Strike with the hammer of thy word, 
And break these hearts of stone," 

was composed in June, 1746, before preaching in the Isle 
of Portland, Dorsetshire, where the people were mostly 
employed in stone quarries. 

" See how great a flame inspires," was written at the 
time of the author's wonderful success in preaching 
among the Newcastle colliers. The imagery recalls the 
large fires that burned in Newcastle by night. " Blow 
ye the trumpet, blow," first appeared in a tract entitled, 
" Hymns for the New Year," or Hymns for New Year's 
Day, 1755. 

The hymn, beginning, 

" Forth in thy name, O Lord, I go. 
My daily labors to pursue ; 
Thee, only thee, resolved to know, 
' In all I think, or speak, or do," 

has reference to his itinerant preaching : 

That, which is made to begin in many hymn-books 
with the second stanza, 

" Lo ! on a narrow neck of land," 




AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS, 227 

is said to have been written at Land's End in Cornwall, 

with the British Channel and the broad Atlantic in view, 

and surging around the "narrow neck of land" on either 

hand: 

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. 



JAMES MONTGOMERY'S HYMNS OF RELIGIOUS 

EXPERIENCE. 

On the fourth of November, 1871, it was just one 
hundred years since James Montgomery was born in the 
lowly home of a humble Moravian minister in Irvine, a 
seaport town in Ayrshire, Scotland. The lessons of hope 
and faith in God which his parents early endeavored to 
inculcate, made a deep impression upon his mind. 

At the age of six, his parents placed him at a Moravi- 
an school at Fulneck, near Leeds, in Yorkshire, England. 
Here he wais kindly treated ; the discipline of the school, 
so happily blending pleasant recreation with study, was 
well calculated to inspire a love for study in the childish 
mind ; while over all was thrown the sweet and holy in- 



i 




228 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

fiuence of the religion of Jesus, whom they were taught 
to regard as a Brother and Friend, and whose kind pro- 
tection and constant care they daily recognized and ac- 
knowledged. As he grew up, the world with its flattering 
voice proffered its delusive pleasures, and like too many 
others, Montgomery listened to its seductive call, and 
left the peaceful haven at Fulneck, to plunge into the 
toils and struggles of the outside world, a step he ever 
regretted. In " after years," he thus speaks of the event : 

A STAR from heaven once went astray, 

A planet beautiful and bright ; 
Which to the sun*s diviner ray 

Owed all its beauty and its light ; 
Yet deemed, when self-sufficient grown, 
Its borrowed glory all its own. 

A secret impulse urged its course ; 

As, by a demon power possessed, 
With rash, unheeding, headlong force, 

It wildly wandered seeking rest ; 
Till, far beyond the solar range. 
It underwent a fearful change. 

Dim, as it went, its lustre grew, 
Till utter darkness wTapt it round, 

And slow and slower as it flew, 
Failure of warmth and strength it found ; 

Congealed into a globe of ice, 

It seemed cast out of Paradise. 

The cares of the world proved harassing, and its pleas- 
ures wholly unsatisfactory. His early religious instruc- 
tion prevented him from mingling with the dissipated and 
the gay, and thus saved him from a course of sinful in- 
dulgence. Although his associations were morally pure, 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 229 

still as he had once known the love of God, he could not 
help contrasting the peace he then enjoyed with the feel- 
ings of unrest and gloom which now filled his mind. 

Writing to a friend at this time, he thus describes 
the state of his feelings : " Such has been my education, 
such, I will venture to say, has been my experience in 
the morning of life, that I can never, never entirely re- 
ject it, and embrace any system of morality not grounded 
upon that revelation. What can I do .^ I am tossed to 
and fro on a sea of doubts and perplexities ; the farther 
I am carried from that shore where I was once happily 
moored, the weaker grow my hopes of ever reaching 
another where I may anchor in safety : at the same time, 
my hopes of returning to the harbor I have left are di- 
minished in proportion. This is the present state of my 
mind !" For a long time Montgomery's mind was a prey 
to despairing thoughts which led him to prayer, and at 
length the true light began to dawn ; a faint, feeble, 
flickering ray it was at first, but gradually grew stronger 
and brighter, until his heart was filled with the joy and 
peace of a bright hope in Christ. On his forty-third 
birthday he wrote to the presiding minister at Fulneck, 
asking to be readmitted into the Moravian congregation 
there ; a request which was most cordially granted. 

His feelings upon the occasion are touchingly de- 
scribed in the following hymn : 

People of the living God 

I have sought the world around. 
Paths of sin and sorrow trod, 
Peace and comfort nowhere found : 

20 



230 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Now to you my spirit turns — 

Turns a fugitive unblest ; 
Brethren, where your altar bums. 

Oh, receive me into rest. 

Lonely I no longer roam, 

Like the cloud, the wind, the wave ; 
Where you dwell shall be my home, 

Where you die shall be my grave. 
Mine the God whom you adore. 

Your Redeemer shall be mine ; 
Earth can fill my heart no more, 

Every idol I resign. 

From this time until the close of his life, Montgomery 
was actively employed in trying to do good, finding in 
the service of God that peace and happiness which the 
world failed to confer. 

His hymns but reflect his own luminous experiences, 
and the experiences of the church, in all of whose joys, 
triumphs and sorrows he sympathized. His experience 
with the world had taught him that the soul has no rest 
but in God, and religion continually showed him that this 
rest was sweet and abiding : 

Oh where shall rest be found, 

Rest for the weary soul ? 
'T were vain the ocean's depths to sound 

Or pierce to either pole. 

The world can never give 

The bliss for which we sigh 
'T is not the whole of life to live. 

Nor all of death to die. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 231 

Beyond this vale of tears 

There is a life above, 
Unmeasured by the flight of years; 

And all that life is love. 

There is a death, whose pang 

Outlasts the fleeting breath : 
Oh what eternal horrors hang 

Around the second death ! 

Thou God of truth and grace ! 

Teach us that death to shun ; 
Lest we be banished from thy face, 

For evermore undone. 

Solemn and grand is another view that he takes of 

his fading years 

" To see 
All nature die, and find myself at ease, 
In youth that seemed an immortality ; 
But I am changed now, and feel with trees 
A brotherhood, and in their obsequies 
Think of my own." 

In this mellow autumn time of life, with golden 
sheaves bending before him,' he was called upon to pro- 
duce a strain more noble than that which celebrates the 
deeds of warriors or the triumphs of conquerors. 

At the annual meeting of the Church Missionary So- 
ciety, in the spring of 1848, it was voted to hold a jubilee 
during the following autumn, in all of its departments 
throughout the world. Montgomery was invited to com- 
pose a jubilee hymn, which should be translated into 
other tongues, and sung in all lands on the festival day^ 
and which should follow the circuit of the sun, and sur- 



t 



232 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS, 

round the earth with its melody. In a moment of poetic 
inspiration he seized his pen, and touched upon the majes- 
tic strain beginning, " The King of Glory we proclaim I" 

The pleasant autumn came, and the venerable poet 
was permitted to join in singing the jubilant melody. 

What an hour of triumph was that when the silver- 
haired man caught up the anthem that was encircling 
ihe lands ; when, after long watching and praying for 
the spread of the gospel of peace, he joined in a refrain 
of devout thanksgiving that came floating from the Ce- 
lestial empire, from India, Smyrna, Syria, and the Nile, 
and that was borne onward to the tropic islands and the 
lands of the setting sun. That jubilant morning the 
missionaries of China sung, "The King of Glory we 
proclaim !" The converts of India, " The King of Glory 
we proclaim !" The dwellers by the shadows of the pyra- 
mids, " The King of Glory we proclaim !" Syria, made 
holy by the footsteps of the Redeemer, "The King of 
Glory we proclaim !" Christian Europe, like the voice 
of many waters, '* The King of Glory we proclaim !" The 
tropic islands, in mellifluous notes and melting cadences, 
" The King of Glory we proclaim !" The simple fanes 
of the Western World, in voices ringing and clear, " The 
King of Glory we proclaim !" Thus from the going 
forth of the sun from the end of the heaven, and his cir- 
cuit unto the ends of it, the great anthem rolled on from 
land to land, from sea to sea : " The King of Glory we 
proclaim !" 

But when age had well battered his decaying taber- 
nacle, he sung a sweeter strain than this. It indicates 



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AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 233 

how dear to his soul had become those spiritual mysteries 
of which apostles wrote and prophets sung. 

For ever with the Lord : 

Amen, so let it be : 
Life from the dead is in that word, 

' Tis immortality. 

Here in the body pent, 

Absent from him I roam, 
Yet nightiy pitch my moving tent 

A day's march nearer home. 

My Father's house on high — 

Home of my soul — how neai 
At times, to Faith's foreseeing eye, 

The golden gates appear. 

Ah ! then my spirit faints 

To reach the land I love. 
The bright inheritance of saints, 

Jerusalem above. 

Yet clouds still intervene. 

And all my comfort fiies ; 
Like Noah's dove I flit between 

Rough seas and stormy skies. 

Anon the clouds depart, 

The winds and waters cease, 
And brightiy o'er my gladdened heart 

Expands the bow of peace. 

Beneath the glowing arch, 

Along the hallowed ground, 
I see cherubic armies march, 

A camp of fire around. 

20* 



234 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

I hear at mom and even, 
At noon and midnight hour, 

The choral harmonies of heaven 
Earth's Babel tongues o'erpower. 

Then, then I feel that He, 
Remembered or forgot, 

The Lord is never far from me. 
Though I perceive him not . 



\ 



THOMAS OLIVERS, 

" He was the worst boy that had been known in all 
that country for thirty years," wrote one of Thomas Oli- 
vers, a poor, fatherless boy, who in the friendlessness of 
youth had been led astray, and whose life had tecome 
continual dishonor. 

But this youth had a tender conscience, which burned 
within him like a flame in his lonely hours, and, in all of 
his lapses and far-wanderings, he was ever resolving to 
amend his ways and to lead a life that would restore to 
him a calm mind. 

At last these resolutions got the better of his moral 
weakness. He began to pray. At one time he prayed 
so often that his knees were made stiiBf by kneeling. 
But he was still weak, and was often led astray by profli- 
gate companions, and fell into open crime. 

Conscience at length asserted its authority. He 
was completely broken down by an overwhelming sense 
of guilt. He felt now that there was no power within 
himself to save himself from evil, and that he must rely 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 235 

wholly upon Jesus as his Saviour, and the helpfulness of 
Divine providence and grace for salvation. 

His prayers were now answered. Providence led 
him to an old seaport town in England, where White- 
field had an appointment to preach. He determined to 
go and hear the discourse of the great preacher, which 
promised to be helpful in a case like his. 

" When the sermon began," he says, " I was one of 
the most abandoned and profligate young men living; 
before it ended I was a new creature." He was enabled 
at once to cast himself on the mercy of his Saviour, 
and felt at once uplifted and sustained by a strong 
arm — an experience that filled him with devout thankful- 
ness to his dying day. 

" The worst boy in all that country " was now a happy 
man. Besetting sins lost their attractions; heavenly 
joys were his continually. His faith was triumphant 
and majestic. " I saw God in everything," he said ; 
" the heavens and the earth, and all therein, showed me 
something of Him." 

He became a preacher. He was ready to endure 
any hardship, any persecution, anything for the strong 
love of Christ. In an hour of gratitude for so great a 
deliverance, and for such mighty power to uphold his 
soul, he thus penned his experience, which has become 
one of the thanksgivings of the ages : 

I. The God of Abram praise. 

Who reigns enthroned above : 
Ancient of everlasting days, 
And God of love : 



J36 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Jehovah, great I Am ! 

By earth and heaven confessed, 
I bow and bless the sacred Name, 

For ever blest 



The God of Abram praise, 

At whose supreme command 
From earth I rise, and seek the joys 

At his right hand ; 
1 all on earth forsake, 

Its wisdom, fame and power; 
And him my only portion make, 

My shield and tower. 

The God of Abram praise. 

Whose all-sufficient grace 
Shall guide me all my happy days 

In all his ways : 
He calls a worm his friend : 

He calls himself my God ! 
And he shall save me to the end, 

Through Jesus' blood. 

He by himself hath sworn ; 

I on his oath depend ; 
I shall, on eagles' wings upborne. 

To heaven ascend ; 
I shall behold his face ; 

I shall his power adore, 
And sing the wonders of his grace 

For evermore. 

11. Though nature's strength decay. 
And earth and hell withstand. 
To Canaan's bounds I urge my way, 
At His command ; 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 237 

The watery deep I pass, 

With Jesus in my view ; 
And through the howling wilderness 

My way pursue. 

The goodly land I see, 

With peace and plenty blest ; 
A land of sacred liberty 

And endless rest. 
There milk and honey flow. 

And oil and wine abound ; 
And trees of life for ever grow, 

With mercy crowned. 

There dwells the Lord our King, 

The Lord our Righteousness, 
Triumphant o'er the world and sin, 

The Prince of Peace : 
On Zion's sacred height, 

His kingdom still maintains ; 
And, glorious, with his saints in light 

For ever reigns. 



HYMNS OF MADAME GUYON 

The hymns of Madame Guyon, which are to be fotlnd 
in Cowper's complete works, among his translations, or 
which have been translated in part by Dr. Thomas Up- 
ham, and a few of which are found in the hymn-books, 
deserve to be better known and understood. They are 
the flowers and fruits of a very unusual and interesting 
religious experience. 

Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon was born at 
Moiitargis, in 1648, and was educated, according to the 



23S THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

custom of the time, in the convents of her native city. 
She became pious in girlhood, and early consecrated her 
ife to God. 

The period in which she lived was particularly unfa- 
vorable for religious development — ^the dazzling but cor- 
rupt reign of Louis XIV. The people were taught to 
rely upon the observance of imposing rites and ceremo- 
nies for salvation, rather than upon a state of spiritual 
renovation and an inward acquaintance with God. But 
Mademoiselle de la Mothe found this sensational reli- 
gion unsatisfying, and was anxious to know the truth 
and to practise it ; and the Infinite Mind recognized and 
fulfilled the desire. 

There was a devout father of the religious order of 
St. Francis, who had spent some five years in acts of 
devotion, for the purpose of seeking an experimental 
union with God, and of renouncing selfish interests and 
desires, that he might be better prepared to teach the 
truth in simplicity and purity, and God seems to have 
revealed himself to his spiritual perceptions, and to have 
granted him great spiritual peace, and delightful commu- 
nion with the unseen world. Although a Romanist, he 
appears to have been truly converted. This devout 
father was impressed that it was his duty to labor for 
the conversion of some person of distinction ; and, led 
by the inward monitor, he made a journey, and came to 
the house of M. de la Mothe, the father of Madame 
Guyon. He here became acquainted with the young 
inquirer. She related to him her religious exercises and 
inward conflicts, and appealed to him for counsel. The 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS, 239 

pious Franciscan, after listening to her narrative, was for 
a time silent, engaged in inward meditation and prayer. 
At length he said, ** Your efforts have been unsuccessful, 
madame, because you have sought without what you can 
only find within. Seek God in your heart, and you will 
not fail to find him." A new light immediately broke 
upon Madame Guyon's mind; and the way of a spirit- 
ual acquaintance with God was clearly revealed. 

She gives in her autobiography the following account 
of the spiritual exaltation and rapture that followed this 
great change : 

** Nothing was more easy to me now than the practice 
of prayer. Hours passed away like moments, while I 
could hardly do anything else but pray. It was prayers 
of rejoicing and possession, wherein the taste of God 
was so great, so pure, so unblemished and uninterrupted, 
that it drew and absorbed the powers of my soul into a 
state of confiding and affectionate rest in God, existing 
without intellectual effort. I had now no sight but of 
Jesus Christ alone." 

Madame Guyon at this period was about twenty years 
of age. She lived in the enjoyment of religion for many 
years, and, after the death of her husband, felt it her 
duty to become a spiritual instructor. She visited Grex, 
Thonon, and Glenoble, explaining the doctrine of clear 
religious experience, and engaging in works of benevo- 
lence. At this period she wrote a book, entitled, " Spirit- 
ual Torrents," in which religion is likened to a moun- 
tain stream ; and another, entitled, " A Short and Easy 
Method of Prayer," resembling in sentiment the mysti- 



i 



240 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

cal teachings of Molinos. In 1686, she went to Paris, 
where, with the Duchess of Beauvilliers, the Duchess of 
Bethune, the Countess of Guiche, and other ladies of 
rank, she organized meetings for religious conference 
and prayer. Her written works exerting a powerful 
influence, which was deemed adverse to the tenets of 
Rome, she was arrested by a royal order, and confined 
in the convent of St. Marie. She was released through 
the influence of Madame de Maintenon. Her opinions 
proving attractive to Madame de Maintenon, she was 
permitted to disseminate them in the seminary of St. 
Cyr. She became intimately acquainted with the learned 
and illustrious Fenelon, Archbishop of Cambrai, who 
favored her views in respect to inward holiness and a 
state of continuous fellowship with God. She was ar- 
rested on a false charge, and was imprisoned in the 
ancient castle of Vincennes. She was removed in 1689 
to a prison in the Bastile. The walls of the fortress 
were nine feet thick, and a narrow slit through this mas- 
' sive masonry admitted all the light that ever reached the 
prisoner. The cells were narrow and dirty, and were 
covered with the mould of ages. They were damp and 
bitter cold in winter, and almost suffocating during the 
heat of summer. The prisoner was allowed no privi- 
leges, no books, no recreation, no employments. 

" Oh ! who can tell what days, what nights she spent 
Of tideless, waveless, sailless, shoreless woe !" 

In this abode of sorrow Madame Guyon was for four 
years immured. Her cell was next to that of the Man 
of the Iron Mask. When she entered these gloomy 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 241 

portals, she expected to emerge only to suffer a martyr's 
death. In her former persecutions and imprisonments 
her triumphant spirit had never quailed. Her mind had 
been stayed on God, and kept in perfect peace. At times 
it seemed rapt up to heaven, and to dwell in an atmo- 
sphere of celestial light and glory. The radiance of the 
unseen world had dissipated the darkness of her dun- 
geon. When imprisoned in the castle of Vincennes, her 
elevation of soul was such that she declared the very 
stones of her cell looked to h^r like rubies. How did 
she meet this last terrible ordeal, the worst that human 
power could devise t Listen : 

" I feel no anxiety in view of what my enemies will 
do to me. I have no fear of anything but of being left 
to myself. So long as God is with me, neither imprison- 
ment nor death will have any terrors. If they should 
proceed to extremities, and should put me to death^ 
come and see me die. Do as Mary Magdalen did, who 
never left him that taught her the knowledge of pure 
love." 

She was finally banished to Diziers, and died at the 
city of Blois, at a very advanced age. 

Madame Guyon in her last years seemed to dwell, as 
it were, in Immanuel's land. She feared neither bas- 
tiles nor death. She speaks of her mind as fixed upon 
God alone, and enjoying uninterrupted communion with 
him. 

Her poems are a revelation of her religious life and 
luminous experiences. She was accustomed to make all 
special trials and refreshments the subject of poetic 

story of Hynitia. 2i 



4 



242 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

composition. Perhaps no other writer has so fully era- 
bodied a long religious experience in verse. 

Of her habitual resignation to the will of God, she 
says: 

'* 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. 

" While place we seek or place we shun, 
The soul finds happiness in none ; 
But, with a God to guide our way, 
'T is equal joy to go or stay. 

" My country, Lord, art thou alone. 
No other can I claim my own ; 
The point where all my wishes meet. 
My law, my love, life's only sweet 

" Ah, then ! to his embrace repair. 
My soul, thou art no stranger there. 
There love divine shall be thy guard. 
And peace and safety thy reward.'' 
Again: 

" To me* 't is equal, whether love ordain 

My life or death, appoint me pain or ease ; 
My soul perceives no real ill in pain ; 
In ease or health no real good she sees. 

^ One good she covets, and that good alone : 
To choose thy will from selfish bias free : 
And to prefer a cottage to a throne, 
And grief to comfort, if it pleases thee. 

^ That we should bear the cross is thy command, 
Die to the world, and live to self no more ; 
Suffer, unmoved, beneath the rudest hand ; 

When shipwrecked pleased as when upon the shore," 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL HYMNS. 243 

Of her imprisonments : 

" Nor castle walls, nor dungeons deep, 
Exclude His quickening beams, 
There I can sit and sing and weep, 
And dwell on heavenly themes. 

" There sorrow, for His sake, is found 
A joy beyond compare. 
There no presumptuous thoughts abound, 
No pride can enter there." 

Of her elevation of soul : 

" Oh, glory in which I am lost. 

Too deep for the plummet of thought, 
On an ocean of Deity tossed, 

I am swallowed, I sink into naught. 
Yet, lost and absorbed as I seem, 

I chant to the praise of my King, 
And, though overwhelmed by the theme 

Am happy whenever I sing." 

Madame Guyon loved to frequent solitary places for 
religious meditation, and to pray in solitude. Once 
when stopping near the banks of the Seine, she says : 
" On the banks of the river, finding a solitary place, I 
sought intercourse with my God. The communications 
of Divine love were unutterably sweet to my soul, in 
that retirement." She often alludes to her devotions ia 
secluded places in her poems : 

" Here sweetly forgetting, and wholly forgot, 
By the world and its turbulent {hrong, 
The birds and the streams lend me many a note 
That aids meditation and song. 



244 THE SrOR V OF THE HYMNS. 

" Ah ! send me not back to the race of mankind, 
Perversely by folly beguiled, 
For where, in the crowds I have left, shall I find 
The spirit and heart of a child ? 

** Here let me, though fixed in a desert, be free ; 
A little one whom they despise. 
Though lost to the wortd, if in union with thee, 
Shall be holy and happy and wise." 

Madame Guyon was accustomed, at one period of her 
life, to arise before daybreak for prayer : 

" Through the dark and silent night 
On thy radiant smiles I dwelt, 
And to see the dawning light 
Was the keenest pain I felt." 

She sings the spiritual happiness she found in com- 
munion with God, during the night season, in several 
noble poems, fron> which we add the following : 

" Night ! how I love thy silent shades, 
My spirits they compose ; 
The bliss of heaven my soul pervades. 
In spite of all my woes. 

" Sleep at last has fled these eyes. 
Nor do I regret his flight, 
More alert my spirits rise, 
And my heart is free and light 

" Nature silent all around. 
Not a single witness near; 
God as soon as sought is found, 
And the flame of love burns clear." 



\ 



IX. FAMILIAR HYMNS, AUTHORS, DATES, ETC. 



Abide with Me ; fast falls the Eventide. Ilenry Francis Lyte, 1847. 
See Lyte, page 311. 

A Charge to keep I have. Charles Wesley, 1762. 

A Debtor to Mercy alone. Augustus Montague Toplady. 

A Few more Years shall roll. Horatius Bonar, 1856. 
" Hymns of Faith and Hope." 

A Glory gilds the Sacred Page. William Cowper, 1779. 
" Olney Hymns." 

Ah, not like erring Man is God. Henry Ustick Onderdonk, 1826. 

All Glory, Laud, and Honor. Theodulph ; translated by J. M. Neale. 
Written during imprisonment. Being sung by its author at his prison window in tha 
hearing of the Emperor, Louis I., it gained the monk a pardon. 

All hail the Power of Jesus* Name. Edward Perronet. 
See Perronet, page 13. 

All People that on Earth do dwell. W^illiam Kethe. 

Kethe was a clergyman, an army chaplain, and an exile with Knox at Geneva in 1555. 

AU Praise to Thee, my God, this Night Thomas Ken. 
See Ken, page 17. 

Almost Persuaded now to Believe. P. P. Bliss. 

This is one of the effective revival hymns used by Ira D. :' ankey, the coadjutor of Mr. 
Moody. 

Am I a Soldier of the Cross. Isaac Watts, 1709. 

A Mountain Fastness is our God. Martin Luther ; translated by W. R. 
Whittingham. 
See ** Martin Luther's Hymn," page 15. 

Angels from the Realms of Glory. James Montgomery, 1819. 

Angels, roll the Rock away. Thomas Scott and Thomas Gibbons, 1773. 

Another Six Days* Work is done. Joseph Stcnnett 

Arm of the Lord, awake, awake. William Shrubsole. 

Around the Throne of God in Heaven. Anne Houlditch Shepard. 



i 



246 THE STOR Y OF THE HYMNS. 

Art thou weary, art thou languid. Stephen the Sabaite ; translated by 
J. M. Neale. 
Passed fifty-tune years in religious sedusion. Stephen was bom, 735; died, 794. 

Asleep in Jesus, blessed Sleep. Margaret Mackay, 1832. 
Mrs. Mackay was an English religioos writer. 

As when the weary Traveller gains. John Newton. 

Awake, and sing the Song. William Hammond, 1745. 
Mr. Hammond was a Calvioist Methodist, and a friend of Cennidc 

Awake, my Soul, and with the Sun. Thomas Ken. 
See Ken, page 17. 

Awake, my Soul, stretch every Nerve. Philip Doddridge. 

Awake, my Soul, to Joyful Lays. Samuel Medley, 1787. 

Rippon's Selection. The following is the original: 

AwAKB, my soul, in joyful lays. When tarthly frUnds forsake mg fuiUf 

And sing thy great Redeemer's praise ; And! have neither skill nor mi^^ki, 

He justly claims a song from Mr, l/**s sure my helper to appear; 

His loving'-kindness is so free I His loving-kindness is so near I 

He saw me ruined in the fall, Often I feel my sinful heart 

Yet loved me, notwithstanding all ; Prone from my Jesus to depart; 

He saved me from my lost estate ; And though I oft have him forgot, 

His loving-kindness is so great I His loving-kindness changes not. 

Though mighty hosts of cruel foes, .S'^ when I pass deaUis gloomy vale 

Where earth and hell my way oppose, A nd life and mortal powers shall fail* • 

He safely leads my soul along; Oh may my last expiring breath 

His loving-kindness is so strong I His loving-kindness sing in death I 

Before Jehovah's awful Throne. Isaac Watts. 

Behold the Glories of the Lamb. Isaac Watts. 
See Watts, page 219. 

Behold the Saviour of Mankind. Samuel Wesley, 17 19^ 

This hymn was saved from the flames at the burning of Epworth Parsonage, when 
John Wesley was a child. 

Blest be the Tie that binds. John Fawcett 
See Fawcett, page 37. 

Breast the Wave, Christian. Joseph Stammers, 183a 
Mr. Stammers is an English barrister. 

Brief Life is here our Portion. Bernard of Cluny ; translated by J. M. 
Neale. 

Brightest and Best of the Sons of the Morning. Reginald Heber, 18 1 1* 

By cool Siloam*s shady Rill. Reginald Heber, 18 12. 



FAMILIAR HYMNSy AUTHORSy DATES. 247 

Calm on the listening Ear of Night Edmund Hamilton Sears, 1837. 
Originally appeared in the Boston Observer. 

Children of the Heavenly King. John Cennick, 1742. 
The following beautiful stanza is usually altered or omitted: 

*^Oye hanisJud utd^ he gladl 
Christ our Advocate is made; 
Us to save, our flesh assumes; 
Brother to our souls becomes.** 

Come all ye Saints to Pisgah's Mountain. Rev. J. W. Dadmun. 

This is a hymn <A the he .rt Mr. Dadmun says: " I never wrote but one hymn that I 
consider worth naming; and that was written on the death of three of my children, 
all of whom died in the short space of three months. The title of it is, * Our Loved 
Ones in Heaven,' and it was composed in 1862. It was the expression of my faith 
in God, and hope of a glorious immortality when called to part with my * loved 
ones.' I published it in the * New Melodeon,' pa^es 48-9." 

The following is the first verse of the hymn : 

" Come an ye saints to Pisgah's mountain, Some of bright crowns of glory are singing. 
Come view your home beyond the tide ; Some of dear ones who stand near the shore, 

Hear now the voices of your loved ones, For the fond heart must ever be clinging 
What they sing on the other side : To the faithful we love ever more." 

Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove. Isaac Watts, 1707. 

Come, let us join our cheerful Songs. Isaac Watts, 1709. 

Come let us join our Friends above. Charles Wesley, 1759^ 
" Funeral Hymns." 

Come, my Soul, thy Suit prepare. John Newton. 

Come, Thou Almighty King. Charles Wesley. 

Come, Thou Fount of every Blessing. Robinson. 

Two original stanzas in this hymn are omitted in all mr dem collections. They an 

" Oh, that day when freed from sinning, " If thou ever didst discover 

I shall see thy lovely face, Unto me the promised land. 

Robed then in blood-washed linen Bid me now the stream pass over, 

Now I '11 sing thy sovereign grace. On the heavenly border stand. 

Come, dear Lprd, no longer tarry. Help surmount whatever opposes, 

Take my raptured soul away; Unto thy embraces fly, 

Send thine angels down to carry Si>eak the word thou di^t to Moies, 

Me to realms of endless day. Bid me get me up and die." 

C</me to Jesus. Anon)rmous. 

This rehain was very popular in Scotland some years ago, when multitudes used to 
sing it after listening to fervent preaching in the open air. 

Come, we that love the Lord. Isaac Watts. 
Come, ye Sinners, poor and needy. Joseph Hart. 
See Hart, pag'35- 



248 THE STOR V OF THE HYMNS. 

Day of Judgment, Day of Wonders. John Newton. 

Day of Wrath ; oh, Day of Mourning. Thomas of Celano ; translated by 
W. F. Irons. 

Dear as Thou wert, and justly dear. Thomas Dale, 1797. 
A funeral piece in Dale's " Widow of Nain.** 

Did Christ o'er Sinners Weep. Beddome, 1787. 

Father, whatever of earthly Bliss. Anne Steele, 176a 
See Steele, page 58. 

Fierce was the wild Billow. Anatolius ; translated by J. M. Neale. 

For ever with the Lord. James Montgomery. 

For thee, O dear, dear Country. Bernard of Cluny ; translated by J. M. 

Neale. 
From all that dwell below the Skies. Isaac Watts, 1719^ 

From every stormy Wind that blows. Hugh Stowell. 
From StowelTs ** Pleasures of Religion." 

From Greenland's icy Mountains. Reginald Heber. 
See Heber, x>age 4a 

Glorious Things of Thee are spoken. John Newton, 1779^ 
God bless our Native Land. John S. Dwight, 1844. 

God is our Refuge in Distress. Tate and Brady. 

Tate was poet-laureate from 1690 to 1715. His ** Metrical Version of the Psalms" 
was the standard and authorized version of the times. He was assisted in the OMn- 
position of this work by Nicholas Brady. 

God moves in a mysterious Way. William Cowper. 
See Cowper, page 44. 

Go to dark Gethsemane. James Montgomery, 1822. 

Grace ! *t is a charming Sound. Phlip Doddridge. 

Great God, what do I see and hear. William Bengo CoUycn 
Mr. Collyer was a Lutheran pastor at Langfield, Prussia. 

Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah. William Williams. 
See Williams, page 30. 

Hail Thou long-expected Jesus, Charles Wesley. 
* Hymns for the Nativity," 1745. 

Hail, Thou once-despised Jesus. John Bakewell. 

Wesley says that Bakewell '* adorned the doctrine of God our Saviour 80 years, and 
preached his gospel 70 years." He was a friend of Olivers, who wrote "The God 
of Abram praise" at his house. 



FAMILIAR HYMNS, AUTHORS, DATES. 249 

Hail to the Lord's Anointed. James Montgomery. 

Hark ! hark ! my Soul ; angelic Songs are swelling. F. W. Faber. 

Hark ! the glad Sound ! the Saviour comes. Philip Doddridge. 
Written to supplement a sermon preached Dec 38, 1755. 

Hark ! what mean those Holy Voices. Christopher Wordsworth. 

How Beauteous are their Feet. Isaac "Watts. 

How firm a Foundation, ye Saints of the Lord. George Keith, 1787. 

How happy is the Pilgrim's Lot. John Wesley. 

This hymn, which is, perhaps, the roost condensed and perfect narrative we have of 
John Wesley's religious experience, was written before his marriage, and the original 
contains the following stanza, omitted in all collections: 

" I have no sharer of my heart Only betrothed to Christ am I, 

To rob my Saviour of a part. And wait his coming from the sky, 

And desecrate the whole. To wed my happy souL" 

How sweetly flowed the Gospel Sound. Bowring. 

This popular church hymn appears in Sir John Bowring's '* Matins and Vespers,'* 
and was evidently inspired by true devotional feeling. Ue says of the hymns m the 
collection in which it appeared: 

*' So much of serene and so much of joyful feeling, so much of calm and grateful 
recollection, so much of present peace and comfort* and so much of holy and trans- 
porting hope, are connected with the cultivation of the devotional spirit, that to 
assist its exercises, to administer to its wants, and to accompany its heavenly aspira- 
tions, are objects worthy of the noblest, the best ambitions. 

" In attempting to give some of the ornaments of song to such comtemplations, 
and such expressions as become those who have formed a true estimate of life, and 
of the ends of living, I trust I have never forgotten that the substance of piety is of 
higher interest than any of its decorations, that the presence of truth is of more im- 
portance than the garment it wears. 

" I have often witnessed, with complacency and delight, the consoling influence 
produced by the recollection of some passage of devotional poetry, under circum- 
stances the most disheartening, and sufferings the most oppressive. Should any 
fragment of this little book, remembered and dwelt upon in moments of gloom and 
anxiety, tend to restore peace, to awaken fortitude, to create, to renew, or to 
strengthen confidence in Heaven, I shall have obtained the boon for which I pray— 
the end to which I aspire. 

''These Hymns were not written in the pursuit of fame or literary tritmiph 
They are full of borrowed images, of thoughts and feelings excited less by my own 
contemplations than by the writings of others." 

How sweetly flowed the gospel sound, " Come, wanderers, to my Fathei's home;] 

From lips of gentleness and grace. Come, all ye weary ones, and rest !" 

When listening thousands gathered round. Yes I sacred Teacher, we will come. 

And joy and reverence filled the place I Obey thee, love thee, and be blest I 

From heaven he came — of heaven he spoke. Decay, then, tenements of dust 1 
To heaven he led his followers* way ; Pillars of earthly pride, decay ! 

Dark clouds of gloomy night he broke, A nobler mansion waits the just, 

Unveiling an immortal day. And Jesus has prepared the way 

The solemn chant, " From the recesses of a lowly spirit," appears in the same volumia. 



4 



«co THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds. John Newton. 

I am trusting Lord in Thee. Rev. William McDonald. 

Mr. McDonald is a most successful reviTal preacher in the Methodist connection, and 
often makes use of this hymn in inviting the penitent to kneel for prayers. 

I have entered the Valley of Blessing, so sweet Mrs. Annie Witten- 
meyer. 

I hear thy welcome Voice. Rev. L> Hartsough. 

I hear the Saviour say. Mrs. £. M. HalL 

I Ml praise my Maker with my breath. Isaac Watts. 

I love my God, but with no Love of Mine. Madame Guyon. 

I love thy Kingdom, Lord. Rev. Timothy Dwight, D. D., i8oa 

In some Way or other the Lord will provide. Prof. C. S. Harrington. 

In answer to inquiry about this hymn, Professor Harrington says: " I do not know 
of any special circumstance that inspired this hymn, it was the result of incidents 
that arise in daily Christian experience. I have received many letters thanking me 
for the comfort the hymn has afforded the writers." 

Prof. Harrington is one of the faculty of Wesleyan University at Middletown, ( onn. 
His simple hymn is very popular both in America and in Germany. We give both 
the English and the German versions. 

In some way or other the Lord will pro- Despond then no longer ; the Lord will pro- 
vide; vide; 
It may not be my way, And this be the token — 
It may not be thy way, No word he hath spoken 
And yet, in his own way, Was ever yet broken — 
"The Lord wUl provide." « The Lord will provide." 

At some time or other the Lord will pro- March on, then, right boldly; the sea shall 
vide; divide; 

It may not be tny time, The pathway made gIoriouS| 

It may not be thy time, With shoutings victorious 

And yet, in his own time, We Ml join in the chorus, 

" 1 he Lord wiU provide." « The Lord will provide." 

DER HERR WIRiyS VERSEHEN. 

Sei*s so Oder anders, der Herr wird's ver- Sei's jetzt oder spater, der Herr wird^s va>» 
sehen; sehen; 

Mag's nicht sein wie ich will, Mag's nicht sein wann ich will, 

Mag's nicht sein wie dn willst, Mag's nicht sein wann du willst* 

Doch wird's sein wie Er will, Doch wird*s sein wann Er wrll, 

Der Herr wird's versehen. Der Herr wird's versehen. 

So zage nicht langer, der Herr wird's versehen; 
Und dies sei dein Zeichen, 
Nie hat Er gebrochen 
Was einst Er gesprochen ; 
Der Herr wird's versehea 



FAMILIAR HYMNS, AUTHORS, DATES. 251 

In the Christian's Home in Glory. Rev. J. Y. Harmer. 

It came upon the Midnight clear. Edmund Hamilton Sears, 185a 

I think when I read that Sweet Story of Old. jemima Luke. 
See Sunday-school Hymns, ps^e 146. 

I love Thee, I love Thee, etc Jer. Ingalls, 1805. 

I would not live alway, I ask not to stay. William Augustus Muhlen- 
berg, 1824. 

Jerusalem, my Happy Home. Anon. 

Jerusalem, the Golden. Bernard of Cluny ; translated by J. M. Neale. 
From a manuscript of three thousand lines, entitled, *' De Contemptu MundL" . 

Jesus, and shall it ever be. Joseph Grigg. 
See Grigg, page 60. 

Jesus Christ is risen To-day. Anon. 

Jesus, I my Cross have taken. Henry Francis L)rte. 
See Lyte, page 3 1 1. 

Jesus lives no longer now. C. F. Gellert ; translated by Francis Cox. 

Jesus, Lover of my Soul. Charles Wesley, 1740. 

See Wesley, page 174. The first two lines of this hymn, according to popular tradi- 
tion, were suggested hy a bird's flying into the author's window for protection, when 
chased by a hawk. 

The following third stanza of this hymn is omitted in nearly all collections : 

^ Wilt thou not regard my call ? Reach me out thy gracious hand I 

Wilt thou not accept my prayer ? While I of thy strength receive, 

Lo ! I sink, I faint, I biXL 1 Hoping against hope, I stand, 

Lo ! on Thee I cast my care 1 Dying, and behold I live.'* 

Jesus, Meek and Gentle. George Rundle Trynne, 1856. 

Jesus, my All, to Heaven is gone. John Cennick. 
See Cennick, page 84. 

Jesus shall reign where'er the Sun. Isaac Watts, 1719. 

Jesus, Tender Shepherd, hear me. Mary L. Duncan, 1814-1841. 
Written as an evening prayer for her own children. 

Jesus, the very Thought of Thee. Bernard ; translated by G. K CaswelL 
Wesley calls Bernard of Clairvaux, "The best monk that ever lived " 

Jesus, Thy Blood and Righteousness. Count Zinzendorf ; translated by 
John Wesley. 
See Zinzendorf, page 99* 



€ 



2S2 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Jtyy to the World ! the Lord is come. Isaac Watts. 

Just as I am, without one Plea. Charlotte Elliott 
Si:e Sunday-school Hymnsi page 155. 

I^ad, kindly Light, amid the encircling Gloom. John Henry Newman. 
See Newman, page 315. 

Light of Those whose dreary Dwelling. Charles Wesley, 1745. 

Lo ! He comes, with Clouds descending. C. Wesley and F. Cennick. 

Lord, dismiss us with Thy Blessing. Walter Shirley. 
See Shirley, page 323. 

I-,ord, in the Morning Thou shalt hear. Isaac Watts, 17 19. 

Love Divine, all Love Excelling. Charles Wesley, 1746, 

My Country, His of thee. S. F. Smith. 

I)'-, *^m^th is a Ikiptist clergyman and editor, and contributed twen'y-«ix hymns to the 
Psalmist, and eight hymns to the American pabbath Hymn-Book. 

My Eyes have seen the Glory of the Coming of the Lord. Julia Ward 

Howe. 

Writte ! after a visit to the camps on the Potomac dur ng the early part of the Union 
war, and published in the Atlantic Monthly. 

My Faith looks up to Thee. Ray Palmer, 183a 
Published in 1S33. See Palmer, page 209 

My God, I love Thee, not because. St. Francis Xavier ; translated by 
G. E. CaswelL 
See Xavier, page 71. 

My God, permit me not to be. Isaac Watts, 1709. 

My Gracious Redeemer I love. Benjamin Francis. 

Mr. Francis was a Baptist minister, (1834-1799). He joined the church at the age of 
fifteen; he preached to a humble congregation, refusing a pastorate offered him in 
London. 

My opening Eyes with rapture see. F. Hutton. 

My Soul, be on thy Guard. George Heath, 1781. 

Nearer, my God, to Thee. Sarah Flower Adams. 
See Adams, page 201. 

Now is the Accepted Time. John Dobell. 

Th.'s and other hymns by the same author, were published at the suggestion of a pious 
lady in Comw 11, who was an invalid, and whom Dobell frequently visited in sick- 
ness. She said to him, '* I wish I could see before I die a hymn-book f 11 of Christ 
and his gospel, without any mixture of human merit." It became the aim of DobeQ 
to compose and compile such a book. 



FAMILIAR HYMNS, AUTHORS, DATES. 253 

O Bliss of the Purified, Bliss of the Free. Rev. F. Bottome. 

O day of Rest and Gladness. Christopher Wordsworth, 1862, 

O'er the Gloomy Hills of Darkness. William Williams. 

Oft in Danger, oft in Woe. F. F. Maitland and H. K. White. 

The first ten lines of this hymn were left a fragment by Kirke White, written on the 
back of one x>f his mathematical papers. They came, after his death, into the hands 
of Dr. Collyer, who published them, with six not very successful lines of his own 
added, in his Hymn-book of 1S12, wh^e the hymn is numbered 867. The task of 
finishing it was more happily accomplished by Miss F. F. Maitland. 

O God, our Help in Ages past Isaac Watts. 

O Happy Day, that stays my Choice. Philip Doddridge. 

Oh Come, all ye Faithful. Translated by Frederic Oakeley. 
Mediaeval. 

Oh Come, oh Come, Enmianuel. Translated by John Mason Neale. 
Mediaeval. 

Oh, could I speak the matchless Worth. Samuel Medley. 

The early life of Medley was very irreligious. Being for iven much, h loved mudi; 
and this is the sentiment of the hymn. 

Oh, for a closer Walk with God. William Cowper, 1779. 
Oh, for a Heart to praise my God. Charles Wesley, 1742. 
Oh, for a thousand Tongues to sing. Charles Wesley, 1739. 
Oh, happy is the Man who hears. Michael Bruce. 
Oh, how happy are they. Charles Wesley. 

Oh, Mother dear, Jerusalem. F. B. T. 

Translated by an unknown writer in the i6th century, and published from manuscript 
by Sir Rou.dell Palmer, in his " Book of Prais.." 

Oh, sing to me of Heaven. Dunbar. 

Oh, that my Load of Sin were gone. Charles Wesley. 

Once in Royal David's city. Cecil Frances Alexander, 1848. 
" Hymns for Little ChUdren.»' 

On Jordan's Bank the Baptist's cry. Paris Breviary ; translated by John 

Chandler. 
Onward, Christian Soldiers. Sabine Baring Gould. 

O Paradise, O Paradise. Frederick William Faber. 
See Faber. page 187. 

Oppressed with Sin and Woe. Anne Bronte. 

She was the youngest of three gifted sisters, whose home-life is known* through tha 
memories of Charlotte Bronte. She died young. She said in her last sickness, " I 
wish it would please God to spare me, because -I long to do something good in the 
world befor« I leave it." Later in her sickness, she said: '* It will be well throu k 
the merits of the Redeemer." 00 



254 ^'^^^ STORY OF THE HYMNS, 

O Thou from Whom all Goodness flows. Thomas Haweis, 1792. 

Mr. liaw«U.wu one ol Lady Huntingdon's chaplainSi and one ol the founders of the 
I..ondon MUsionary Society. He «ToCe 356 hymns, which be puUished under the 
title ol " Carmina Christo." 

O Thou my Soul, forget no more Krishnu-PaL 
See Krishnu-Pal, pagv 53. 

O Thou to whom all Creatures bow. Tate and Brady. 

O Thou to whose all-searching Sight Tcrsteegen ; translated by John 
Wesley. 

Our blest Redeemer, ere He breathed. Harriet Auber, 1829. 

Miss Auber led a secluded life, often expressing her religious thoughts in poems, only 
a few of which were published. 

Prayer is the SouFs sincere Desire. James Montgomery. 

Rise my Soul, and stretch thy Wings. Robert Seagrave, 1742. 
Mr. Seagrave was a Calvinist Methodist in Lady Huntingdon's connection. 

Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Augustus Montague Toplady. 
See Toplady, page 34. 

Salvation, O the Jo)'ful Sound. Isaac Watts. 

Saviour, like a Shepherd lead us. Anon. 

Shout the Glad Tidings, exultingly sing. William Augustus Muhlenberg, 
1826. 
Mr. Muhlenberg founded St Luke's Hospital in New York in 185$, an^ became the 
leader in other notable charities. He was a clergyman, poet, scholar, and philan- 
thropist 

Shrinking from the cold Hand of Death. C. Wesley. 

Shrinking from the cold hand of death. Oh, that, without a lingering groan, 
I soon shall gather up my feet ; I may the welcome word receive; 

Shall soon resign this fleeting breath. My body with my charge lay down, 
And die — my father's God to meet And cease at once to work and live. 

Numbered among thy people, I Walk with me through the dreadful shada» 

Expect with joy thy face to see: And, certified that thou art mine. 

Because thou didst for sinners die. My spirit, calm and undismayed, 

Jesus, in death remember me I I shall into thy hands resign. 

No anxious doubt, no guilty gloom. 
Shall damp whom Jesus' presence cheers; 

My Light, my Life, my God is come. 
And glory in his face appears. 

The third stanza of this beautiful funeral hymn was an expression of Charles Wesley's 
feelings in regard to death. John Wesley frequently quoted the stanaa in old age. 
His fUmost constant prayer was, '* Lord, let me not live to be useless." " At every 
place," says Belche* , " after giving to his societies what he desired them to c. nsider 
his last advice, he invariably concluded with the stanza beginning— 
*' * Oh, that, without a lingering groan, 
I may the welcome word receive.* " 



FAMILIAR HYMNS, AUTHORS, DATES. 255 

Sinners I turn, why will ye die ? Charles Wesley. 

Softly now the Light of Day. George Washington DoaneJ 1824. 

"Songs by the Way." 
Stand up, my Soul, shake off thy Fears. Isaac Watts. 
Stay, Thou long-suffering Spirit, stay. Charles Wesley 

Sun of my Soul, Thou Saviour dear. John Keble. 
Se« Keble. page 19a 

Sweet is the Work, my God, my King. Isaac Watts. 

Sweet the Moments, rich in Blessing. James Allen and Walter Shirley. 
See Shirley, page 127. 

Take th?'Name of Jesus with you. Mrs. Lydia A. Baxter. 

That Day of Wrath, that Dreadful Day. Walter Scott, 1805. 

" Lay of Last Minstrel." It was translated from the " Dies irae. Dies ilia." Scott 
repeated a part of the Latin original on his death-bed. 

The Chariot ! the Chariot ! its Wheels roll in Fire. Milman. 

Dean Milman, a son of Sir Francis Milman, physician to George III., was bom in 
1 791, and was educated at Oxford. In 182 1 he was installed as University Professor 
of Poetry at Oxford, and it was while filling this position that he wrote this celebrar- 
ted hymn, under the title of "The Last Day." 

The Day is past and gone. John Leland. 

" Elder" Leland was an eccentric Baptist minister, bom in Grafton, Mass., 1754. 
Two verses from Watts, beginning, ** And if we earlv rise," and " When our days 
are past," are often added to this hymn in singing. 

The God of Abram praise. Thomas Olivers. 
See Olivers, page 234. 

The Heavens declare Thy Glory, Lord. Isaac Watts. 

The Lord descended from Above. Thomas Stemhold. 

Scaliger declared that he would rather be the author of the second stanza of this hymn 
than of all the works he had written. 

The Lord my Pasture shall prepare. Joseph Addison. 

There is a Fountain filled with Blood. William Cowper. 

There is a Land of Pure Delight Isaac Watts. 

There is an Hour of peaceful Rest William B. Tappan. 

An assiduous Christian worker, long connected with the American Sunday-School 
Union. 

The spacious Firmament on High. Joseph Addison. 
The Spirit in our Hearts. Henry Ustick Onderdonk. 
The Voice of Free Grace. Thursby. 




256 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS. 

Thou art gone to the Grave, but we will not deplore thee. Bishop Heber 
This hymn was written on the death of his brother. 

Thou hidden Love of God, whose Height GeVhard Tersteegen ; trans- 
lated by F. Wesley. 

Thou Whose Almighty Word. John Marriott, 18 13. 

'Tis finished; so the Saviour cried. Samuel Stennett, 1787. 

'Tis my Happiness below. William Cowper. 

Up to the Hills I lift mine Eyes. Isaac Watts. 

Watchman, tell Us of the Night James Bowring. 
See Bowring, page laS. 

Welcome, Sweet Day of Rest Isaac Watts. 

We praise Thee, O God ; we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord. 

This is among the earliest and grandest tones in the Christian church, having proba- 
bly been composed in the fourth century. It is the work of the Latin Withers, and 
is especially inscribed to Augustine and Ambrose. It appears in various forms in 
most ancient ixA modem collections, and is commonly known as the ** Te Deum 
Laudamus." 

What are these in Bright Array. James Montgomery. 
When all Thy Mercies, O my God. Joseph Addison. 
When gathering clouds around I view. Robert Grant 

When I can read my Title clear. Isaac Watts. 

When I survey the Wondrous Cross. Isaac Watts. 

When, Marshalled on the Nightly Plain. Henry Kirke White. 

When shall we meet again ? Alaric A. Watts. 
Written in youth, on parting from friends. 

When through the torn Sail the wild Tempest, etc Reginald Heber. 
See Heber, p?.ge X75. 

While Shepherds watch their Flocks by Night Nahum Tate. 

While Thee I seek. Protecting Power. Helen Maria Williams. 

While with Ceaseless Course the Sun. John Newton. 

With one Consent let all the Earth. Tate and Brady. 

Ye boundless Realms of Joy. Tate and Brady. 

Ye Choirs of New Jerusalem. St Firlbert 

St. Firlbert was one of the spiritual advisers of King Canute. 



I 



I 








BETTERWOHTH, Hezekiah. 


BV 


The story of the 


315 


hymns. 


.B9 




1875 



