His fortunes improved at last, and he was appointed to represent his native country as consul in Tunis, where he died, Apr. 9, 1852.

"O, COULD I SPEAK THE MATCHLESS WORTH."

The writer of this hymn of worshiping ardor and exalted Christian love was an English Baptist minister, the Rev. Samuel Medley. He was born at Cheshunt, Hertfordshire, June 23, 1738, and at eighteen years of age entered the Royal Navy, where, though he had been piously educated, he became dissipated and morally reckless. Wounded in a sea fight off Cape Lagos, and in dread of amputation he prayed penitently through nearly a whole night, and in the morning the surprised surgeon told him his limb could be saved.

The voice of his awakened conscience was not wholly disregarded, though it was not till some time after he left the navy that his vow to begin a religious life was sincerely kept. After teaching school for four years, he began to preach in 1766, Wartford in Hertfordshire being the first scene of his godly labors. He died in Liverpool July 17, 1799, at the end of a faithful ministry there of twenty-seven years. A small edition of his hymns was published during his lifetime, in 1789.

O could I speak the matchless worth, O could I sound the glories forth Which in my Saviour shine, I'd soar and touch the heavenly strings And vie with Gabriel while he sings, In notes almost divine!

THE TUNE.

"Colebrook," a plain choral; but with a noble movement, by Henry Smart, is the English music to this fine lyric, but Dr. Mason's "Ariel" is the American favorite. It justifies its name, for it has wings—in both full harmony and duet—and its melody feels the glory of the hymn at every bar.

"ROCK OF AGES CLEFT FOR ME."

Augustus Montagu Toplady, author of this almost universal hymn, was born at Farnham, Surrey, Eng., Nov. 4, 1740. Educated at Westminster School, and Trinity College, Dublin, he took orders in the Established Church. In his doctrinal debates with the Wesleys he was a harsh controversialist; but his piety was sincere, and marked late in life by exalted moods. Physically he was frail, and his fiery zeal wore out his body. Transferred from his vicarage at Broad Hembury, Devonshire, to Knightsbridge, London, at twenty-eight years of age, his health began to fail before he was thirty-five, and in one of his periods of illness he wrote—

When languor and disease invade This trembling house of clay, 'Tis sweet to look beyond my pains And long to fly away.

And the same homesickness for heaven appears under a different figure in another hymn—

At anchor laid remote from home, Toiling I cry, "Sweet Spirit, come! Celestial breeze, no longer stay, But swell my sails, and speed my way!"

Possessed of an ardent religious nature, his spiritual frames exemplified in a notable degree the emotional side of Calvinistic piety. Edward Payson himself, was not more enraptured in immediate view of death than was this young London priest and poet. Unquestioning faith became perfect certainty. As in the bold metaphor of "Rock of Ages," the faith finds voice in—

A debtor to mercy alone,

—and other hymns in his collection of 1776, two years before the end came. Most of this devout writing was done in his last days, and he continued it as long as strength was left, until, on the 11th of August, 1778, he joyfully passed away.

Somehow there was always something peculiarly heartsome and "filling" to pious minds in the lines of Toplady in days when his minor hymns were more in vogue than now, and they were often quoted, without any idea whose making they were. "At anchor laid" was crooned by good old ladies at their spinning-wheels, and godly invalids found "When languor and disease invade" a comfort next to their Bibles.

"Rock of Ages" is said to have been written after the author, during a suburban walk, had been forced to shelter himself from a thunder shower, under a cliff. This is, however, but one of several stories about the birth-occasion of the hymn.

It has been translated into many languages. One of the foreign dignitaries visiting Queen Victoria at her "Golden Jubilee" was a native of Madagascar, who surprised her by asking leave to sing, but delighted her, when leave was given, by singing "Rock of Ages." It was a favorite of hers—and of Prince Albert, who whispered it when he was dying. People who were school-children when Rev. Justus Vinton came home to Willington, Ct., with two Karen pupils, repeat to-day the "la-pa-ta, i-oo-i-oo" caught by sound from the brown-faced boys as they sang their native version of "Rock of Ages."

Gen. J.E.B. Stuart, the famous Confederate Cavalry leader, mortally wounded at Yellow Tavern, Va., and borne to a Richmond hospital, called for his minister and requested that "Rock of Ages" be sung to him.

The last sounds heard by the few saved from the wreck of the steamer "London" in the Bay of Biscay, 1866, were the voices of the helpless passengers singing "Rock of Ages" as the ship went down.

A company of Armenian Christians sang "Rock of Ages" in their native tongue while they were being massacred in Constantinople.

No history of this grand hymn of faith forgets the incident of Gladstone writing a Latin translation of it while sitting in the House of Commons. That remarkable man was as masterly in his scholarly recreations as in his statesmanship. The supreme Christian sentiment of the hymn had permeated his soul till it spoke to him in a dead language as eloquently as in the living one; and this is what he made of it:

TOPLADY.

Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee; Let the water and the blood, From Thy riven side which flowed, Be of sin the double cure, Cleanse me from its guilt and power.

Not the labor of my hands Can fulfil Thy law's demands; Could my zeal no respite know, Could my tears for ever flow, All for sin could not atone, Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to Thy cross I cling; Naked, come to Thee for dress, Helpless, look to Thee for grace: Foul, I to the fountain fly; Wash, me, Saviour, or I die.

Whilst I draw this fleeting breath, When my eyestrings break in death; When I soar through tracts unknown, See Thee on Thy judgment throne, Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.

GLADSTONE.

Jesus, pro me perforatus, Condar intra tuum latus; Tu per lympham profluentem, Tu per sanguinem tepentem, In peccata mi redunda, Tolle culpam, sordes munda!

Coram Te nec justus forem Quamvis tota vi laborem, Nec si fide nunquam cesso, Fletu stillans indefesso; Tibi soli tantum munus— Salva me, Salvator Unus!

Nil in manu mecum fero, Sed me versus crucem gero: Vestimenta nudus oro, Opem debilis imploro, Fontem Christi quaero immundus, Nisi laves, moribundus.

Dum hos artus vita regit, Quando nox sepulcro legit; Mortuos quum stare jubes, Sedens Judex inter nubes;— Jesus, pro me perforatus, Condar intra tuum latus!

The wonderful hymn has suffered the mutations common to time and taste.

When I soar thro' tracts unknown

—becomes—

When I soar to worlds unknown,

—getting rid of the unpoetic word, and bettering the elocution, but missing the writer's thought (of the unknown path,—instead of going to many "worlds"). The Unitarians have their version, with substitutes for the "atonement lines."

But the Christian lyric maintains its life and inspiration through the vicissitudes of age and use, as all intrinsically superior things can and will,—and as in the twentieth line,—

When my eyestrings break in death;

—modernized to—

When my eyelids close in death,

—the hymn will ever adapt itself to the new exigencies of common speech, without losing its vitality and power.

THE TUNE.

A happy inspiration of Dr. Thomas Hastings made the hymn and music inevitably one. Almost anywhere to call for the tune of "Toplady" (namesake of the pious poet) is as unintelligible to the multitude as "Key" would be to designate the "Star-spangled Banner." The common people—thanks to Dr. Hastings—have learned "Rock of Ages" by sound.

Thomas Hastings was born in Washington, Ct., 1784. For eight years he was editor of the Western Recorder, but he gave his life to church music, and besides being a talented tone-poet he wrote as many as six hundred hymns. In 1832, by invitation from twelve New York churches, he went to that city, and did the main work of his life there, dying, in 1872, at the good old age of eighty-nine. His musical collections number fifty-three. He wrote his famous tune in 1830.



"MY SOUL BE ON THY GUARD"

Strangely enough, this hymn, a trumpet note of Christian warning and resolution, was written by one who himself fell into unworthy ways.[12] But the one strong and spiritual watch-song by which he is remembered appeals for him, and lets us know possibly, something of his own conflicts. We can be thankful for the struggle he once made, and for the hymn it inspired. It is a voice of caution to others.

[Footnote 12: I have been unable to verify this statement found in Mr. Butterworth's "Story of the Hymns."—T.B.]

George Heath, the author, was an English minister, born in 1781; died 1822. For a time he was pastor of a Presbyterian Church at Honiton, Devonshire, and was evidently a prolific writer, having composed a hundred and forty-four hymns, an edition of which was printed.

THE TUNE.

No other has been so familiarly linked with the words as Lowell Mason's "Laban" (1830). It has dash and animation enough to reenforce the hymn, and give it popular life, even if the hymn had less earnestness and vigor of its own.

Ne'er think the vict'ry won Nor lay thine armor down: Thy arduous work will not be done Till thou hast gained thy crown.

Fight on, my soul till death Shall bring thee to thy God; He'll take thee at thy parting breath To His divine abode.

"PEOPLE OF THE LIVING GOD."

Montgomery felt every line of this hymn as he committed it to paper. He wrote it when, after years in the "swim" of social excitements and ambitions, where his young independence swept him on, he came back to the little church of his boyhood. His father and mother had gone to the West Indies as missionaries, and died there. He was forty-three years old when, led by divine light, he sought readmission to the Moravian "meeting" at Fulneck, and anchored happily in a haven of peace.

People of the living God I have sought the world around, Paths of sin and sorrow trod, Peace and comfort nowhere found:

Now to you my spirit turns— Turns a fugitive unblest; Brethren, where your altar burns, Oh, receive me into rest.

James Montgomery, son of Rev. John Montgomery, was born at Irvine, Ayrshire, Scotland, Nov. 4, 1771, and educated at the Moravian Seminary at Fulneck, Yorkshire, Eng. He became the editor of the Sheffield Iris, and his pen was busy in non-professional as well as professional work until old age. He died in Sheffield, April 30, 1854.

His literary career was singularly successful; and a glance through any complete edition of his poems will tell us why. His hymns were all published during his lifetime, and all, as well as his longer pieces, have the purity and polished beauty, if not the strength, of Addison's work. Like Addison, too, he could say that he had written no line which, dying, he would wish to blot.

The best of Montgomery was in his hymns. These were too many to enumerate here, and the more enduring ones too familiar to need enumeration. The church and the world will not soon forget "The Home in Heaven,"—

Forever with the Lord, Amen, so let it be. Life from the dead is in that word; 'Tis immortality.

Nor—

O where shall rest be found,

—with its impressive couplet—

'Tis not the whole of life to live Nor all of death to die.

Nor the haunting sweetness of—

There is a calm for those who weep.

Nor, indeed, the hymn of Christian love just now before us.

THE TUNE.

The melody exactly suited to the gentle trochaic step of the home-song, "People of the living God," is "Whitman," composed for it by Lowell Mason. Few Christians, in America, we venture to say, could hear an instrument play "Whitman" without mentally repeating Montgomery's words.

"TO LEAVE MY DEAR FRIENDS."

This hymn, called "The Bower of Prayer," was dear to Christian hearts in many homes and especially in rural chapel worship half a century ago and earlier, and its sweet legato melody still lingers in the memories of aged men and women.

Elder John Osborne, a New Hampshire preacher of the "Christian" (Christ-ian) denomination, is said to have composed the tune (and possibly the words) about 1815—though apparently the music was arranged from a flute interlude in one of Haydn's themes. The warbling notes of the air are full of heart-feeling, and usually the best available treble voice sang it as a solo.

To leave my dear friends and from neighbors to part, And go from my home, it affects not my heart Like the thought of absenting myself for a day From that blest retreat I have chosen to pray, I have chosen to pray.

The early shrill notes of the loved nightingale That dwelt in the bower, I observed as my bell: It called me to duty, while birds in the air Sang anthems of praises as I went to prayer, As I went to prayer.[13]

How sweet were the zephyrs perfumed by the pine, The ivy, the balsam, the wild eglantine, But sweeter, O, sweeter superlative were The joys that I tasted in answer to prayer, In answer to prayer.

[Footnote 13: The American Vocalist omits this stanza as too fanciful as well as too crude]

"SAVIOUR, THY DYING LOVE."

This hymn of grateful piety was written in 1862, by Rev. S. Dryden Phelps, D.D., of New Haven, and first published in Pure Gold, 1871; afterwards in the (earlier) Baptist Hymn and Tune Book.

Saviour, Thy dying love Thou gavest me, Nor should I aught withhold Dear Lord, from Thee.

* * * * *

Give me a faithful heart, Likeness to Thee, That each departing day Henceforth may see Some work of love begun, Some deed of kindness done, Some wand'rer sought and won, Something for Thee.

The penultimate line, originally "Some sinful wanderer won," was altered by the author himself. The hymn is found in most Baptist hymnals, and was inserted by Mr. Sankey in Gospel Hymns No. 1. It has since won its way into several revival collections and undenominational manuals.

Rev. Sylvester Dryden Phelps, D.D., was born in Suffield, Ct., May 15, 1816, and studied at the Connecticut Literary Institution in that town. An early call to the ministry turned his talents to the service of the church, and his long settlement—comprising what might be called his principal life work—was in New Haven, where he was pastor of the First Baptist church twenty-nine years. He died there Nov. 23, 1895.

THE TUNE.

The Rev. Robert Lowry admired the hymn, and gave it a tune perfectly suited to its metre and spirit. It has never been sung in any other. The usual title of it is "Something for Jesus." The meaning and sentiment of both words and music are not unlike Miss Havergal's—

I gave my life for thee.

"IN SOME WAY OR OTHER."

This song of Christian confidence was written by Mrs. Martha A.W. Cook, wife of the Rev. Parsons Cook, editor of the Puritan Recorder, Boston.

It was published in the American Messenger in 1870, and is still in use here, as a German version of it is in Germany. The first stanza follows, in the two languages:

In some way or other the Lord will provide. It may not be my way, It may not be thy way, And yet in His own way The Lord will provide.

Sei's so oder anders, der Herr wird's versehn; Mag's nicht sein, wie ich will, Mag's nicht sein, wie du willst, Doch wird's sein, wie Er will: Der Herr wird's versehn.

In the English version the easy flow of the two last lines into one sentence is an example of rhythmic advantage over the foreign syntax.

Mrs. Cook was married to the well-known clergyman and editor, Parsons Cook, (1800-1865) in Bridgeport, Ct., and survived him at his death in Lynn, Mass. She was Miss Martha Ann Woodbridge, afterwards Mrs. Hawley, and a widow at the time of her re-marriage as Mr. Cook's second wife.

THE TUNE.

Professor Calvin S. Harrington, of Wesleyan University, Middletown, Ct., set music to the words as printed in Winnowed Hymns (1873) and arranged by Dr. Eben Tourjee, organizer of the great American Peace Jubilee in Boston. In the Gospel Hymns it is, however, superseded by the more popular composition of Philip Phillips.

Dr. Eben Tourjee, late Dean of the College of Music in Boston University, and founder and head of the New England Conservatory, was born in Warwick, R.I., June 1, 1834. With only an academy education he rose by native genius, from a hard-working boyhood to be a teacher of music and a master of its science. From a course of study in Europe he returned and soon made his reputation as an organizer of musical schools and sangerfests. The New England Conservatory of Music was first established by him in Providence, but removed in 1870 to Boston, its permanent home. His doctorate of music was conferred upon him by Wesleyan University. Died in Boston, April 12, 1891.

Philip Phillips, known as "the singing Pilgrim," was born in Jamestown, Chautauqua, Co., N.Y., Aug. 13, 1834. He compiled twenty-nine collections of sacred music for Sunday schools, gospel meetings, etc.; also a Methodist Hymn and Tune Book, 1866. He composed a great number of tunes, but wrote no hymns. Some of his books were published in London, for he was a cosmopolitan singer, and traveled through Europe and Australia as well as America. Died in Delaware, O., June 25, 1875.

"NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE."

Mr. William Stead, fond of noting what is often believed to be the "providential chain of causes" in everything that happens, recalls the fact that Benjamin Flower, editor of the Cambridge Intelligencer, while in jail (1798) at the instigation of Bp. Watson for an article defending the French Revolution, and criticising the Bishop's political course, was visited by several sympathizing ladies, one of whom was Miss Eliza Gould. The young lady's first acquaintance with him there in his cell led to an attachment which eventuated in marriage. Of that marriage Sarah Flower was born. By the theory of providential sequences Mr. Stead makes it appear that the forgotten vindictiveness of a British prelate "was the causa causans of one of the most spiritual and aspiring hymns in the Christian Hymnary."

"Nearer, My God, to Thee" was on the lips of President McKinley as he lay dying by a murderer's wicked shot. It is dear to President Roosevelt for its memories of the battle of Las Quasimas, where the Rough Riders sang it at the burial of their slain comrades. Bishop Marvin was saved by it from hopeless dejection, while practically an exile during the Civil War, by hearing it sung in the wilds of Arkansas, by an old woman in a log hut.

A letter from Pittsburg, Pa., to a leading Boston paper relates the name and experience of a forger who had left the latter city and wandered eight years a fugitive from justice. On the 5th of November, (Sunday,) 1905, he found himself in Pittsburg, and ventured into the Dixon Theatre, where a religious service was being held, to hear the music. The hymn "Nearer, My God, to Thee" so overcame him that he went out weeping bitterly. He walked the floor of his room all night, and in the morning telephoned for the police, confessed his name and crime, and surrendered himself to be taken back to the Boston authorities.

Mrs. Sarah Flower Adams, author of the noble hymn (supposed to have been written in 1840), was born at Harlow, Eng., Feb. 22, 1805, and died there in 1848. At her funeral another of her hymns was sung, ending—

When falls the shadow, cold in death I yet will sing with fearless breath, As comes to me in shade or sun, "Father, Thy will, not mine, be done."

The attempts to evangelize "Nearer, My God, to Thee" by those who cannot forget that Mrs. Adams was a Unitarian, are to be deplored. Such zeal is as needless as trying to sectarianize an Old Testament Psalm. The poem is a perfect religious piece—to be sung as it stands, with thanks that it was ever created.

THE TUNE.

In English churches (since 1861) the hymn was and may still be sung to "Horbury," composed by Rev. John B. Dykes, and "St. Edmund," by Sir Arthur Sullivan. Both tunes are simple and appropriate, but such a hymn earns and inevitably acquires a single tune-voice, so that its music instantly names it by its words when played on instruments. Such a voice was given it by Lowell Mason's "Bethany," (1856). (Why not "Bethel," instead, every one who notes the imagery of the words must wonder.) "Bethany" appealed to the popular heart, and long ago (in America) hymn and tune became each other's property. It is even simpler than the English tunes, and a single hearing fixes it in memory.

"I NEED THEE EVERY HOUR."

Mrs. Annie Sherwood Hawks, who wrote this hymn in 1872, was born in Hoosick, N.Y., in 1835.

She sent the hymn (five stanzas) to Dr. Lowry, who composed its tune, adding a chorus, to make it more effective. It first appeared in a small collection of original songs prepared by Lowry and Doane for the National Baptist Sunday School Association, which met at Cincinnati, O., November, 1872, and was sung there.

I need Thee every hour, Most gracious Lord, No tender voice like Thine Can peace afford.

CHORUS. I need Thee, Oh, I need Thee, Every hour I need Thee; Oh, bless me now, my Saviour, I come to Thee!

One instance, at least, of a hymn made doubly impressive by its chorus will be attested by all who have sung or heard the pleading words and music of Mrs. Hawks' and Dr. Lowry's "I need Thee, Oh, I need Thee."

"I GAVE MY LIFE FOR THEE."

This was written in her youth by Frances Ridley Havergal, and was suggested by the motto over the head of Christ in the great picture, "Ecce Homo," in the Art Gallery of Dusseldorf, Prussia, where she was at school. The sight—as was the case with young Count Zinzendorf—seems to have had much to do with the gifted girl's early religious experience, and indeed exerted its influence on her whole life. The motto read "I did this for thee; what doest thou for me?" and the generative effect of the solemn picture and its question soon appeared in the hymn that flowed from Miss Havergal's heart and pen.

I gave my life for thee, My precious blood I shed, That thou might'st ransomed be And quickened from the dead. I gave my life for thee: What hast thou given for me?

Miss Frances Ridley Havergal, sometimes called "The Theodosia of the 19th century," was born at Astley, Worcestershire, Eng., Dec. 14, 1836. Her father, Rev. William Henry Havergal, a clergyman of the Church of England, was himself a poet and a skilled musician, and much of the daughter's ability came to her by natural bequest as well as by education. Born a poet, she became a fine instrumentalist, a composer and an accomplished linguist. Her health was frail, but her life was a devoted one, and full of good works. Her consecrated words were destined to outlast her by many generations.

"Writing is praying with me," she said. Death met her in 1879, when still in the prime of womanhood.

THE TUNE.

The music that has made this hymn of Miss Havergal familiar in America is named from its first line, and was composed by the lamented Philip P. Bliss (christened Philipp Bliss[14]), a pupil of Dr. George F. Root.

[Footnote 14: Mr. Bliss himself changed the spelling of his name, preferring to let the third P. do duty alone, as a middle initial.]

He was born in Rome, Pa., Jan. 9, 1838, and less than thirty-nine years later suddenly ended his life, a victim of the awful railroad disaster at Ashtabula O., Dec. 29, 1876, while returning from a visit to his aged mother. His wife, Lucy Young Bliss, perished with him there, in the swift flames that enveloped the wreck of the train.

The name of Mr. Bliss had become almost a household word through his numerous popular Christian melodies, which were the American beginning of the series of Gospel Hymns. Many of these are still favorite prayer-meeting tunes throughout the country and are heard in song-service at Sunday-school and city mission meetings.

"JESUS KEEP ME NEAR THE CROSS."

This hymn, one of the best and probably most enduring of Fanny J. Crosby's sacred lyrics, was inspired by Col. 1:29.

Frances Jane Crosby (Mrs. Van Alstyne) the blind poet and hymnist, was born in Southeast, N.Y., March 24, 1820. She lost her eyesight at the age of six. Twelve years of her younger life were spent in the New York Institution for the Blind, where she became a teacher, and in 1858 was happily married to a fellow inmate, Mr. Alexander Van Alstyne, a musician.

George F. Root was for a time musical instructor at the Institution, and she began early to write words to his popular song-tunes. "Rosalie, the Prairie Flower," and the long favorite melody, "There's Music in the Air" are among the many to which she supplied the text and the song name.

She resides in Bridgeport, Ct., where she enjoys a serene and happy old age. She has written over six thousand hymns, and possibly will add other pearls to the cluster before she goes up to join the singing saints.

Jesus, keep me near the Cross, There a precious Fountain Free to all, a healing stream, Flows from Calv'ry's mountain.

CHORUS. In the Cross, in the Cross Be my glory ever, Till my raptured soul shall find Rest beyond the river.

* * * * *

Near the Cross! O Lamb of God, Bring its scenes before me; Help me walk from day to day With its shadows o'er me.

CHORUS.

William Howard Doane, writer of the music to this hymn, was born in Preston, Ct., Feb. 3, 1831. He studied at Woodstock Academy, and subsequently acquired a musical education which earned him the degree of Doctor of Music conferred upon him by Denison University in 1875. Having a mechanical as well as musical gift, he patented more than seventy inventions, and was for some years engaged with manufacturing concerns, both as employee and manager, but his interest in song-worship and in Sunday-school and church work never abated, and he is well known as a trainer of choirs and composer of some of the best modern devotional tunes. His home is in Cincinnati, O.

"I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY."

This threnody (we may almost call it) of W.A. Muhlenberg, illustrating one phase of Christian experience, was the outpouring of a poetic melancholy not uncommon to young and finely strung souls. He composed it in his twenties,—long before he became "Doctor" Muhlenberg,—and for years afterwards tried repeatedly to alter it to a more cheerful tone. But the poem had its mission, and it had fastened itself in the public imagination, either by its contagious sentiment or the felicity of its tune, and the author was obliged to accept the fame of it as it originally stood.

William Augustus Muhlenberg D.D. was born in Philadelphia, Sept. 16, 1796, the great-grandson of Dr. Henry M. Muhlenberg, founder of the Lutheran church in America. In 1817 he left his ancestral communion, and became an Episcopal priest.

As Rector of St. James church, Lancaster, Pa., he interested himself in the improvement of ecclesiastical hymnody, and did much good reforming work. After a noble and very active life as promoter of religious education and Christian union, and as a friend and benefactor of the poor, he died April, 8, 1877, in St. Luke's Hospital, N.Y.

THE TUNE.

This was composed by Mr. George Kingsley in 1833, and entitled "Frederick" (dedicated to the Rev. Frederick T. Gray). Issued first as sheet music, it became popular, and soon found a place in the hymnals. Dr. Louis Benson says of the conditions and the fancy of the time, "The standard of church music did not differ materially from that of parlor music.... Several editors have attempted to put a newer tune in the place of Mr. Kingsley's. It was in vain, simply because words and melody both appeal to the same taste."



"SUN OF MY SOUL, MY SAVIOUR DEAR."

This gem from Keble's Christian Year illustrates the life and character of its pious author, and, like all the hymns of that celebrated collection, is an incitive to spiritual thought for the thoughtless, as well as a language for those who stand in the Holy of Holies.

The Rev. John Keble was born in Caln, St. Aldwyn, April 25, 1792. He took his degree of A.M. and was ordained and settled at Fairford, where he began the parochial work that ceased only with his life. He died at Bournmouth, March 29, 1866.

His settlement at Fairford, in charge of three small curacies, satisfied his modest ambition, though altogether they brought him only about L100 per year. Here he preached, wrote his hymns and translations, performed his pastoral work, and was happy. Temptation to wider fields and larger salary never moved him.

THE TUNE.

The music to this hymn of almost unparalleled poetic and spiritual beauty was arranged from a German Choral of Peter Ritter (1760-1846) by William Henry Monk, Mus. Doc., born London, 1823. Dr. Monk was a lecturer, composer, editor, and professor of vocal music at King's College. This noble tune appears sometimes under the name "Hursley" and supersedes an earlier one ("Halle") by Thomas Hastings.

Sun of my soul, my Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near. O may no earth-born cloud arise To hide Thee from Thy servants' eyes.

* * * * *

Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I cannot die.

The tune "Hursley" is a choice example of polyphonal sweetness in uniform long notes of perfect chord.

The tune of "Canonbury," by Robert Schumann, set to Keble's hymn, "New every morning is the love," is deservedly a favorite for flowing long metres, but it could never replace "Hursley" with "Sun of my soul."

"DID CHRIST O'ER SINNERS WEEP?"

The Rev. Benjamin Beddome wrote this tender hymn-poem while pastor of the Baptist Congregation at Bourton-on-the-water, Gloucestershire, Eng. He was born at Henley, Chatwickshire, Jan. 23, 1717. Settled in 1743, he remained with the same church till his death, Sept. 3, 1795. His hymns were not collected and published till 1818.

THE TUNE.

"Dennis," a soft and smoothly modulated harmony, is oftenest sung to the words, and has no note out of sympathy with their deep feeling.

Did Christ o'er sinners weep, And shall our cheeks be dry? Let floods of penitential grief Burst forth from every eye.

The Son of God in tears Admiring angels see! Be thou astonished, O my soul; He shed those tears for thee.

He wept that we might weep; Each sin demands a tear: In heaven alone no sin is found, And there's no weeping there.

The tune of "Dennis" was adapted by Lowell Mason from Johann Georg Naegeli, a Swiss music publisher, composer and poet. He was born in Zurich, 1768. It is told of him that his irrepressible genius once tempted him to violate the ethics of authorship. While publishing Beethoven's three great solo sonatas (Opus 31) he interpolated two bars of his own, an act much commented upon in musical circles, but which does not seem to have cost him Beethoven's friendship. Possibly, like Murillo to the servant who meddled with his paintings, the great master forgave the liberty, because the work was so good.

Naegeli's compositions are mostly vocal, for school and church use, though some are of a gay and playful nature. The best remembered of his secular and sacred styles are his blithe aria to the song of Moore, "Life let us cherish, while yet the taper glows" and the sweet choral that voices Beddome's hymn.

"MY JESUS, I LOVE THEE."

The real originator of the Coronation Hymnal, a book into whose making went five years of prayer, was Dr. A.J. Gordon, late Pastor of the Clarendon St. Baptist church, Boston. While the volume was slowly taking form and plan he was wont to hum to himself, or cause to be played by one of his family, snatches and suggestions of new airs that came to him in connection with his own hymns, and others which seemed to have no suitable music. The anonymous hymn, "My Jesus, I Love Thee," he found in a London hymn-book, and though the tune to which it had been sung in England was sent to him some time later, it did not sound sympathetic. Dissatisfied, and with the ideal in his mind of what the feeling should be in the melody to such a hymn, he meditated and prayed over the words till in a moment of inspiration the beautiful air sang itself to him[15] which with its simple concords has carried the hymn into the chapels of every denomination.

[Footnote 15: The fact that this sweet melody recalls to some a similar tune sung sixty years ago reminds us again of the story of the tune "America." It is not impossible that an unconscious memory helped to shape the air that came to Dr. Gordon's mind; though unborrowed similarities have been inevitable in the whole history of music.]

My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine, For Thee all the pleasures of sin I resign; My gracious Redeemer, my Saviour art Thou, If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.

* * * * *

I will love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death, And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath, And say when the death-dew lies cold on my brow, If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.

In mansions of glory and endless delight I'll ever adore Thee, unveiled to my sight, And sing, with the glittering crown on my brow, If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.

The memory of the writer returns to a day in a railway-car en route to the great Columbian Fair in Chicago when the tired passengers were suddenly surprised and charmed by the music of this melody. A young Christian man and woman, husband and wife, had begun to sing "My Jesus, I love Thee." Their voices (a tenor and soprano) were clear and sweet, and every one of the company sat up to listen with a look of mingled admiration and relief. Here was something, after all, to make a long journey less tedious. They sang all the four verses and paused. There was no clapping of hands, for a reverential hush had been cast over the audience by the sacred music. Instead of the inevitable applause that follows mere entertainment, a gentle but eager request for more secured the repetition of the delightful duet. This occurred again and again, till every one in the car—and some had never heard the tune or words before—must have learned them by heart. Fatigue was forgotten, miles had been reduced to furlongs in a weary trip, and a company of strangers had been lifted to a holier plane of thought.

Besides this melody there are four tunes by Dr. Gordon in his collection, three of them with his own words. In all there are eleven of his hymns. Of these the "Good morning in Glory," set to his music, is an emotional lyric admirable in revival meetings, and the one beginning "O Holy Ghost, Arise" is still sung, and called for affectionately as "Gordon's Hymn."

Rev. Adoniram Judson Gordon D.D. was born in New Hampton, N.H., April 19, 1836, and died in Boston, Feb. 2d, 1895, after a life of unsurpassed usefulness to his fellowmen and devotion to his Divine Master. Like Phillips Brooks he went to his grave "in all his glorious prime," and his loss is equally lamented. He was a descendant of John Robinson of Leyden.



CHAPTER IV.

MISSIONARY HYMNS.

"JESUS SHALL REIGN WHERE'ER THE SUN."

One of Watts' sublimest hymns, this Hebrew ode to the final King and His endless dominion expands the majestic prophesy in the seventy-second Psalm:

Jesus shall reign where'er the sun Does his successive journeys run, His kingdom stretch from shore to shore Till moons shall wax and wane no more.

The hymn itself could almost claim to be known "where'er the sun" etc., for Christian missionaries have sung it in every land, if not in every language.

One of the native kings in the South Sea Islands, who had been converted through the ministry of English missionaries, substituted a Christian for a pagan constitution in 1862. There were five thousand of his subjects gathered at the ceremonial, and they joined as with one voice in singing this hymn.

THE TUNE.

"Old Hundred" has often lent the notes of its great plain-song to the sonorous lines, and "Duke Street," with superior melody and scarcely inferior grandeur, has given them wings; but the choice of many for music that articulates the life of the hymn would be the tune of "Samson," from Handel's Oratorio so named. It appears as No. 469 in the Evangelical Hymnal.

Handel had no peer in the art or instinct of making a note speak a word.

"JOY TO THE WORLD! THE LORD IS COME!"

This hymn, also by Watts, is often sung as a Christmas song; but "The Saviour Reigns" and "He Rules the World" are bursts of prophetic triumph always apt and stimulating in missionary meetings.

Here, again, the great Handel lends appropriate aid, for "Antioch," the popular tone-consort of the hymn, is an adaptation from his "Messiah." The arrangement has been credited to Lowell Mason, but he seems to have taken it from an English collection by Clark of Canterbury.

"O'ER THE GLOOMY HILLS OF DARKNESS."

Dros y brinian tywyl niwliog.

This notable hymn was written, probably about 1750, by the Rev. William Williams, a Welsh Calvinistic Methodist, born at Cefnycoed, Jan. 7, 1717, near Llandovery. He began the study of medicine, but took deacon's orders, and was for a time an itinerant preacher, having left the established Church. Died at Pantycelyn, Jan. 1, 1781.

His hymn, like the two preceding, antedates the great Missionary Movement by many years.

O'er the gloomy hills of darkness Look my soul! be still, and gaze! See the promises advancing To a glorious Day of grace! Blessed Jubilee, Let thy glorious morning dawn!

Let the dark, benighted pagan, Let the rude barbarian see That divine and glorious conquest Once obtained on Calvary. Let the Gospel Loud resound from pole to pole.

This song of anticipation has dropped out of the modern hymnals, but the last stanza lingers in many memories.

Fly abroad, thou mighty Gospel! Win and conquer, never cease; May thy lasting wide dominion Multiply and still increase. Sway Thy scepter, Saviour, all the world around!

THE TUNE.

Oftener than any other the music of "Zion" has been the expression of William Williams' Missionary Hymn. It was composed by Thomas Hastings, in Washington, Ct., 1830.

"HASTEN, LORD, THE GLORIOUS TIME."

Hasten, Lord, the glorious time When beneath Messiah's sway Every nation, every clime Shall the Gospel call obey. Mightiest kings its power shall own, Heathen tribes His name adore, Satan and his host o'erthrown Bound in chains shall hurt no more.

Miss Harriet Auber, the author of this melodious hymn, was a daughter of James Auber of London, and was born in that city, Oct. 4, 1773. After leaving London she led a secluded life at Broxbourne and Hoddesdon, in Hertfordshire, writing devotional poetry and sacred songs and paraphrases.

Her Spirit of the Psalms, published in 1829, was a collection of lyrics founded on the Biblical Psalms. "Hasten Lord," etc., is from Ps. 72, known for centuries to Christendom as one of the Messianic Psalms. Her best-known hymns have the same inspiration, as—

Wide, ye heavenly gates, unfold.

Sweet is the work, O Lord.

With joy we hail the sacred day.

Miss Auber died in Hoddesdon, Jan. 20, 1862. She lived to witness and sympathise with the pioneer missionary enterprise of the 19th century, and, although she could not stand among the leaders of the battle-line in extending the conquest of the world for Christ, she was happy in having written a campaign hymn which they loved to sing. (It is curious that so pains-taking a work as Julian's Dictionary of Hymns and Hymn-writers credits "With joy we hail the sacred day" to both Miss Auber and Henry Francis Lyte. Coincidences are known where different hymns by different authors begin with the same line; and in this case one writer was dead before the other's works were published. Possibly the collector may have seen a forgotten hymn of Lyte's, with that first line.)

The tune that best interprets this hymn in spirit and in living music is Lowell Mason's "Eltham." Its harmony is like a chime of bells.

"LET PARTY NAMES NO MORE."

Let party names no more The Christian world o'erspread; Gentile and Jew, and bond and free, Are one in Christ the Head.

This hymn of Rev. Benjamin Beddome sounds like a prelude to the grand rally of the Christian Churches a generation later for united advance into foreign fields. It was an after-sermon hymn—like so many of Watts and Doddridge—and spoke a good man's longing to see all sects stand shoulder to shoulder in a common crusade.

Tune—Boylston.

"WATCHMAN, TELL US OF THE NIGHT."

The tune written to this pealing hymn of Sir John Bowring by Lowell Mason has never been superseded. In animation and vocal splendor it catches the author's own clear call, echoing the shout of Zion's sentinels from city to city, and happily reproducing in movement and phrase the great song-dialogue. Words and music together, the piece ranks with the foremost missionary lyrics. Like the greater Mason-Heber world-song, it has acquired no arbitrary name, appearing in Mason's own tune-books under its first hymn-line and likewise in many others. A few hymnals have named it "Bowring," (and why not?) and some later ones simply "Watchman."

1. Watchman, tell us of the night. What its signs of promise are! (Antistrophe) Traveler, on yon mountain height. See that glory-beaming star!

2 Watchman, does its beauteous ray Aught of hope or joy foretell? (Antistrophe) Trav'ler, yes; it brings the day, Promised day of Israel.

3 Watchman, tell us of the night; Higher yet that star ascends. (Antistrophe) Trav'ler, blessedness and light Peace and truth its course portends.

4 Watchman, will its beams alone Gild the spot that gave them birth? (Antistrophe) Trav'ler, ages are its own. See! it bursts o'er all the earth.

"YE CHRISTIAN HERALDS, GO PROCLAIM."

In some versions "Ye Christian heroes," etc.

Professor David R. Breed attributes this stirring hymn to Mrs. Vokes (or Voke) an English or Welsh lady, who is supposed to have written it somewhere near 1780, and supports the claim by its date of publication in Missionary and Devotional Hymns at Portsea, Wales, in 1797. In this Dr. Breed follows (he says) "the accepted tradition." On the other hand the Coronation Hymnal (1894) refers the authorship to a Baptist minister, the Rev. Bourne Hall Draper, of Southampton (Eng.), born 1775, and this choice has the approval of Dr. Charles Robinson. The question occurs whether, when the hymn was published in good faith as Mrs. Vokes', it was really the work of a then unknown youth of twenty-two.

The probability is that the hymn owns a mother instead of a father—and a grand hymn it is; one of the most stimulating in Missionary song-literature.

The stanza—

God shield you with a wall of fire! With flaming zeal your breasts inspire; Bid raging winds their fury cease, And hush the tumult into peace,

—has been tampered with by editors, altering the last line to "Calm the troubled seas," etc., (for the sake of the longer vowel;) but the substitution, "He'll shield you," etc., in the first line, turns a prayer into a mere statement.

The hymn was—and should remain—a God-speed to men like William Carey, who had already begun to think and preach his immortal motto, "Attempt great things for God; expect great things of God."

THE TUNE

Is the "Missionary Chant," and no other. Its composer, Heinrich Christopher Zeuner, was born in Eisleben, Saxony, Sept. 20, 1795. He came to the United States in 1827, and was for many years organist at Park Street Church, Boston, and for the Handel and Haydn Society. In 1854 he removed to Philadelphia where he served three years as organist to St. Andrews Church, and Arch Street Presbyterian. He became insane in 1857, and in November of that year died by his own hand.

He published an oratorio "The Feast of Tabernacles," and two popular books, the American Harp, 1832, and The Ancient Lyre, 1833. His compositions are remarkably spirited and vigorous, and his work as a tune-maker was much in demand during his life, and is sure to continue, in its best examples, as long as good sacred music is appreciated.

To another beautiful missionary hymn of Mrs. Vokes, of quieter tone, but songful and sweet, Dr. Mason wrote the tune of "Migdol." It is its musical twin.

Soon may the last glad song arise Through all the millions of the skies. That song of triumph which records That "all the earth is now the Lord's."

"ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP APPEARING."

This admired and always popular church hymn was written near the beginning of the last century by the Rev. Thomas Kelly, born in Dublin, 1760. He was the son of the Hon. Chief Baron Thomas Kelly of that city, a judge of the Irish Court of Common Pleas. His father designed him for the legal profession, but after his graduation at Trinity College he took holy orders in the Episcopal Church, and labored as a clergyman among the scenes of his youth for more than sixty years, becoming a Nonconformist in his later ministry. He was a sweet-souled man, who made troops of friends, and was honored as much for his piety as for his poetry, music, and oriental learning.

"I expect never to die," he said, when Lord Plunkett once told him he would reach a great age. He finished his earthly work on the 14th of May, 1855, when he was eighty-five years old. But he still lives. His zeal for the coming of the Kingdom of Christ prompted his best hymn.

On the mountain-top appearing, Lo! the sacred herald stands, Joyful news to Zion bearing, Zion long in hostile lands; Mourning captive, God himself will loose thy bands.

Has the night been long and mournful? Have thy friends unfaithful proved? Have thy foes been proud and scornful, By thy sighs and tears unmoved? Cease thy mourning; Zion still is well beloved.

THE TUNE.

To presume that Kelly made both words and music together is possible, for he was himself a composer, but no such original tune seems to survive. In modern use Dr. Hastings' "Zion" is most frequently attached to the hymn, and was probably written for it.

"YE CHRISTIAN HEROES, WAKE TO GLORY."

This rather crude parody on the "Marseillaise Hymn" (see Chap. 9) is printed in the American Vocalist, among numerous samples of early New England psalmody of untraced authorship. It might have been sung at primitive missionary meetings, to spur the zeal and faith of a Francis Mason or a Harriet Newell. It expresses, at least, the new-kindled evangelical spirit of the long-ago consecrations in American church life that first sent the Christian ambassadors to foreign lands, and followed them with benedictions.



Ye Christian heroes, wake to glory: Hark, hark! what millions bid you rise! See heathen nations bow before you, Behold their tears, and hear their cries. Shall pagan priest, their errors breeding, With darkling hosts, and flags unfurled, Spread their delusions o'er the world, Though Jesus on the Cross hung bleeding? To arms! To arms! Christ's banner fling abroad! March on! March on! all hearts resolved To bring the world to God.

O, Truth of God! can man resign thee, Once having felt thy glorious flame? Can rolling oceans e'er prevent thee, Or gold the Christian's spirit tame? Too long we slight the world's undoing; The word of God, salvation's plan, Is yet almost unknown to man, While millions throng the road to ruin. To arms! to arms! The Spirit's sword unsheath: March on! March on! all hearts resolved, To victory or death.

"HAIL TO THE LORD'S ANOINTED."

James Montgomery (says Dr. Breed) is "distinguished as the only layman besides Cowper among hymn-writers of the front rank in the English language." How many millions have recited and sung his fine and exhaustively descriptive poem,—

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,

—selections from almost any part of which are perfect definitions, and have been standard hymns on prayer for three generations. English Hymnology would as unwillingly part with his missionary hymns,—

The king of glory we proclaim.

Hark, the song of jubilee!

—and, noblest of all, the lyric of prophecy and praise which heads this paragraph.

Hail to the Lord's anointed, King David's greater Son! Hail, in the time appointed His reign on earth begun.

* * * * *

Arabia's desert ranger To Him shall bow the knee, The Ethiopian stranger His glory come to see.

* * * * *

Kings shall fall down before Him And gold and incense bring; All nations shall adore Him, His praise all people sing.

The hymn is really the seventy-second Psalm in metre, and as a version it suffers nothing by comparison with that of Watts. Montgomery wrote it as a Christmas ode. It was sung Dec. 25, 1821, at a Moravian Convocation, but in 1822 he recited it at a great missionary meeting in Liverpool, and Dr. Adam Clarke was so charmed with it that he inserted it in his famous Commentary. In no long time afterwards it found its way into general use.

The spirit of his missionary parents was Montgomery's Christian legacy, and in exalted poetical moments it stirred him as the divine afflatus kindled the old prophets.

THE TUNE.

The music editors in some hymnals have borrowed the favorite choral variously named "Webb" in honor of its author, and "The Morning Light is Breaking" from the first line of its hymn. Later hymnals have chosen Sebastian Wesley's "Aurelia" to fit the hymn, with a movement similar to that of "Webb"; also a German B flat melody "Ellacombe," undated, with livelier step and a ringing chime of parts. No one of these is inappropriate.

Samuel Sebastian Wesley, grandson of Charles Wesley the great hymnist, was born in London, 1810. Like his father, Samuel, he became a distinguished musician, and was organist at Exeter, Winchester and Gloucester Cathedrals. Oxford gave him the degree of Doctor of Music. He composed instrumental melodies besides many anthems, services, and other sacred pieces for choir and congregational singing. Died in Gloucester, April 19, 1876.

"FROM GREENLAND'S ICY MOUNTAINS."

The familiar story of this hymn scarcely needs repeating; how one Saturday afternoon in the year 1819, young Reginald Heber, Rector of Hodnet, sitting with his father-in-law, Dean Shipley, and a few friends in the Wrexham Vicarage, was suddenly asked by the Dean to "write something to sing at the missionary meeting tomorrow," and retired to another part of the room while the rest went on talking; how, very soon after, he returned with three stanzas, which were hailed with delighted approval; how he then insisted upon adding another octrain to the hymn and came back with—

Waft, waft, ye winds, His story, And you, ye waters, roll;

—and how the great lyric was sung in Wrexham Church on Sunday morning for the first time in its life. The story is old but always fresh. Nothing could better have emphasized the good Dean's sermon that day in aid of "The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts," than that unexpected and glorious lyric of his poet son-in-law.

By common consent Heber's "Missionary Hymn" is the silver trumpet among all the rallying bugles of the church.

THE TUNE.

The union of words and music in this instance is an example of spiritual affinity. "What God hath joined together let no man put asunder." The story of the tune is a record of providential birth quite as interesting as that of the hymn. In 1823, a lady in Savannah, Ga., having received and admired a copy of Heber's lyric from England, desired to sing it or hear it sung, but knew no music to fit the metre. She finally thought of a young clerk in a bank close by, Lowell Mason by name, who sometimes wrote music for recreation, and sent her son to ask him if he would make a tune that would sing the lines. The boy returned in half an hour with the composition that doubled Heber's fame and made his own.

In the words of Dr. Charles Robinson, "Like the hymn it voices, it was done at a stroke, and it will last through the ages."

"THE MORNING LIGHT IS BREAKING."

Not far behind Dr. Heber's chef-d'oeuvre in lyric merit is the still more famous missionary hymn of Dr. S.F. Smith, author of "My Country, 'Tis of Thee." Another missionary hymn of his which is widely used is—

Yes, my native land, I love thee, All thy scenes, I love them well. Friends, connections, happy country, Can I bid you all farewell? Can I leave you Far in heathen lands to dwell?

Drs. Nutter and Breed speak of "The Morning Light is Breaking," and its charm as a hymn of peace and promise, and intimate that it has "gone farther and been more frequently sung than any other missionary hymn." Besides the English, there are versions of it in four Latin nations, the Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and French, and oriental translations in Chinese and several East Indian tongues and dialects, as well as one in Swedish. It author had the rare felicity, while on a visit to his son, a missionary in Burmah, of hearing it sung by native Christians in their language, and of being welcomed with an ovation when they knew who he was.

The morning light is breaking! The darkness disappears; The sons of earth are waking To penitential tears; Each breeze that sweeps the ocean Brings tidings from afar, Of nations in commotion, Prepared for Zion's war.

Rich dews of grace come o'er us In many a gentle shower, And brighter scenes before us Are opening every hour. Each cry to heaven going Abundant answer brings, And heavenly gales are blowing With peace upon their wings.

* * * * *

Blest river of Salvation, Pursue thy onward way; Flow thou to every nation, Nor in thy richness stay. Stay not till all the lowly Triumphant reach their home; Stay not till all the holy Proclaim, "The Lord is come!"

Samuel Francis Smith, D.D., was born in Boston in 1808, and educated in Harvard University (1825-1829). He prepared for the ministry, and was pastor of Baptist churches at Waterville, Me., and Newton, Mass., before entering the service of the American Baptist Missionary union as editor of its Missionary Magazine.

He was a scholarly and graceful writer, both in verse and prose, and besides his editorial work, he was frequently an invited participant or guest of honor on public occasions, owing to his fame as author of the national hymn. His pure and gentle character made him everywhere beloved and reverenced, and to know him intimately in his happy old age was a benediction. He died suddenly and painlessly in his seat on a railway train, November 16, 1895 in his eighty-eighth year.

Dr. Smith wrote twenty-six hymns now more or less in use in church worship, and eight for Sabbath school collections.

THE TUNE.

"Millennial Dawn" is the title given it by a Boston compiler, about 1844, but since the music and hymn became "one and indivisable" it has been named "Webb," and popularly known as "Morning Light" or oftener still by its first hymn-line, "The morning light is breaking."

George James Webb was born near Salisbury, Wiltshire, Eng., June 24, 1803. He studied music in Salisbury and for several years played the organ at Falmouth Church. When still a young man (1830), he came to the United States, and settled in Boston where he was long the leading organist and music teacher of the city. He was associate director of the Boston Academy of Music with Lowell Mason, and joint author and editor with him of several church-music collections. Died in Orange, N.J., Nov. 7, 1887.

Dr. Webb's own account of the tune "Millennial Dawn" states that he wrote it at sea while on his way to America—and to secular words and that he had no idea who first adapted it to the hymn, nor when.

"IF I WERE A VOICE, A PERSUASIVE VOICE."

This animating lyric was written by Charles Mackay. Sung by a good vocalist, the fine solo air composed (with its organ chords) by I.B. Woodbury, is still a feature in some missionary meetings, especially the fourth stanza—

If I were a voice, an immortal voice, I would fly the earth around: And wherever man to his idols bowed, I'd publish in notes both long and loud The Gospel's joyful sound. I would fly, I would fly, on the wings of day, Proclaiming peace on my world-wide way, Bidding the saddened earth rejoice— If I were a voice, an immortal voice, I would fly, I would fly, I would fly on the wings of day.

Charles Mackay, the poet, was born in Perth, Scotland, 1814, and educated in London and Brussels; was engaged in editorial work on the London Morning Chronicle and Glasgow Argus, and during the Corn Law agitation wrote popular songs, notably "The Voice of the Crowd" and "There's a Good Time Coming," which (like the far inferior poetry of Ebenezer Elliot) won the lasting love of the masses for a superior man who could be "The People's Singer and Friend." He came to the United States in 1857 as a lecturer, and again in 1862, remaining three years as war correspondent of the London Times. Glasgow University made him LL.D. in 1847. His numerous songs and poems were collected in a London edition. Died Dec. 24, 1889.

Isaac Baker Woodbury was born in Beverly, Mass., 1819, and rose from the station of a blacksmith's apprentice to be a tone-teacher in the church. He educated himself in Europe, returned and sang his life songs, and died in 1858 at the age of thirty-nine.

A tune preferred by many as the finer music is the one written to the words by Mr. Sankey, Sacred Songs, No. 2.

"SPEED AWAY! SPEED AWAY!"

This inspiriting song of farewell to departing missionaries was written in 1890 to Woodbury's appropriate popular melody by Fanny J. Crosby, at the request of Ira D. Sankey. The key-word and refrain are adapted from the original song by Woodbury (1848), but in substance and language the three hymn-stanzas are the new and independent work of this later writer.

Speed away! speed away on your mission of light, To the lands that are lying in darkness and night; 'Tis the Master's command; go ye forth in His name, The wonderful gospel of Jesus proclaim; Take your lives in your hand, to the work while 'tis day, Speed away! speed away! speed away!

Speed away, speed away with the life-giving Word, To the nations that know not the voice of the Lord; Take the wings of the morning and fly o'er the wave, In the strength of your Master the lost ones to save; He is calling once more, not a moment's delay, Speed away! speed away! speed away!

Speed away, speed away with the message of rest, To the souls by the tempter in bondage oppressed; For the Saviour has purchased their ransom from sin, And the banquet is ready. O gather them in; To the rescue make haste, there's no time for delay, Speed away! speed away! speed away!

"ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS!"

Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould, the author of this rousing hymn of Christian warfare, a rector of the Established Church of England and a writer of note, was born at Exeter, Eng., Jan. 28, 1834. Educated at Clare College, Cambridge, he entered the service of the church, and was appointed Rector of East Mersea, Essex, in 1871. He was the author of several hymns, original and translated, and introduced into England from Flanders, numbers of carols with charming old Christmas music. The "Christian Soldiers" hymn is one of his (original) processionals, and the most inspiring.

Onward, Christian soldiers, Marching as to war, With the cross of Jesus Going on before. Christ the Royal Master Leads against the foe; Forward into battle, See, His banners go! Onward, Christian soldiers, etc.

* * * * *

Like a mighty army Moves the Church of God; Brothers, we are treading Where the saints have trod; We are not divided, All one body we, One in hope, in doctrine, One in charity.

THE TUNE.

Sir Arthur Seymour Sullivan, Doctor of Music, who wrote the melody for this hymn, was born in London, May 13, 1842. He gained the Mendelssohn Scholarship at the Royal Academy of Music, and also at the Conservatory of Leipsic. He was a fertile genius, and his compositions included operettas, symphonies, overtures, anthems, hymn-tunes, an oratorio ("The Prodigal Son"), and almost every variety of tone production, vocal and instrumental. Queen Victoria knighted him in 1883.

The grand rhythm of "Onward, Christian Soldiers"—hymn and tune—is irresistible whether in band march or congregational worship. Sir Arthur died in London, November 22, 1900.

"O CHURCH ARISE AND SING"

Designed originally for children's voices, the hymn of five stanzas beginning with this line was written by Hezekiah Butterworth, author of the Story of the Hymns (1875), Story of the Tunes (1890), and many popular books of historic interest for the young, the most widely read of which is Zigzag Journeys in Many Lands. He also composed and published many poems and hymns. He was born in Warren, R.I., Dec. 22, 1839, and for twenty-five years was connected with the Youth's Companion as regular contributor and member of its editorial staff. He died in Warren, R.I., Sept. 5, 1905.

The hymn "O Church, arise" was sung in Mason's tune of "Dort" until Prof. Case wrote a melody for it, when it took the name of the "Convention Hymn."

Professor Charles Clinton Case, music composer and teacher, was born in Linesville, Pa., June, 1843. Was a pupil of George F. Root and pursued musical study in Chicago, Ill., Ashland, O., and South Bend, Ind. He was associated with Root, McGranahan, and others in making secular and church music books, and later with D.L. Moody in evangelical work.

As author and compiler he has published numerous works, among them Church Anthems, the Harvest Song and Case's Chorus Collection.

O Church! arise and sing The triumphs of your King, Whose reign is love; Sing your enlarged desires, That conquering faith inspires, Renew your signal fires, And forward move!

* * * * *

Beneath the glowing arch The ransomed armies march, We follow on; Lead on, O cross of Light, From conquering height to height, And add new victories bright To triumphs won!

"THE BANNER OF IMMANUEL!"

This hymn, set to music and copyrighted in Buffalo as a floating waif of verse by an unknown author, and used in Sunday-school work, first appeared in Dr. F.N. Peloubet's Select Songs (Biglow and Main, 1884) with a tune by Rev. George Phipps.

The hymn was written by Rev. Theron Brown, a Baptist minister, who was pastor (1859-1870) of churches in South Framingham and Canton, Mass. He was born in Willimantic, Ct., April 29, 1832.

Retired from pastoral work, owing to vocal disability, he has held contributory and editorial relations with the Youth's Companion for more than forty years, for the last twenty years a member of the office staff.

Between 1880 and 1890 he contributed hymns more or less regularly to the quartet and antiphonal chorus service at the Ruggles St. Church, Boston, the "Banner of Immanuel" being one of the number. The Blount Family, Nameless Women of the Bible, Life Songs (a volume of poems), and several books for boys, are among his published works.

The banner of Immanuel! beneath its glorious folds For life or death to serve and fight we pledge our loyal souls. No other flag such honor boasts, or bears so proud a name, And far its red-cross signal flies as flies the lightning's flame.

* * * * *

Salvation by the blood of Christ! the shouts of triumph ring; No other watchword leads the host that serves so grand a King. Then rally, soldiers of the Cross! Keep every fold unfurled, And by Redemption's holy sign we'll conquer all the world.

The Rev. George Phipps, composer of the tune, "Immanuel's Banner," was born in Franklin, Mass., Dec. 11, 1838, was graduated at Amherst College, 1862, and at Andover Theological Seminary, 1865. Settled as pastor of the Congregational Church in Wellesley, Mass., ten years, and at Newton Highlands fifteen years.

He has written many Sunday-school melodies, notably the music to "My Saviour Keeps Me Company."



CHAPTER V.

HYMNS OF SUFFERING AND TRUST.

One inspiring chapter in the compensations of life is the record of immortal verses that were sorrow-born. It tells us in the most affecting way how affliction refines the spirit and "the agonizing throes of thought bring forth glory." Often a broken life has produced a single hymn. It took the long living under trial to shape the supreme experience.

—The anguish of the singer Made the sweetness of the song.

Indeed, if there had been no sorrow there would have been no song.



"MY LORD, HOW FULL OF SWEET CONTENT."

Jeanne M.B. de la Mothe—known always as Madame Guyon—the lady who wrote these words in exile, probably sang more "songs in the night" than any hymn-writer outside of the Dark Ages. She was born at Montargis, France, in 1648, and died in her seventieth year, 1771, in the ancient city of Blois, on the Loire.

A convent-educated girl of high family, a wife at the age of fifteen, and a widow at twenty-eight, her early piety, ridiculed in the dazzling but corrupt society of Louis XIV's time, blossomed through a long life in religious ministries and flowers of sacred poetry.

She became a mystic, and her book Spiritual Torrents indicates the impetuous ardors of her soul. It was the way Divine Love came to her. She was the incarnation of the spiritualized Book of Canticles. An induction to these intense subjective visions and raptures had been the remark of a pious old Franciscan father, "Seek God in your heart, and you will find Him."

She began to teach as well as enjoy the new light so different from the glitter of the traditional worship. But her "aggressive holiness" was obnoxious to the established Church. "Quietism" was the brand set upon her written works and the offense that was punished in her person. Bossuet, the king of preachers, was her great adversary. The saintly Fenelon was her friend, but he could not shield her. She was shut up like a lunatic in prison after prison, till, after four years of dungeon life in the Bastile, expecting every hour to be executed for heresy, she was banished to a distant province to end her days.

Question as we may the usefulness of her pietistic books, the visions of her excessively exalted moods, and the passionate, almost erotic phraseology of her Contemplations, Madame Guyon has held the world's admiration for her martyr spirit, and even her love-flights of devotion in poetry and prose do not conceal the angel that walked in the flame.

Today, when religious persecution is unknown, we can but dimly understand the perfect triumph of her superior soul under suffering and the transports of her utter absorption in God that could make the stones of her dungeon "look like jewels." When we emulate a faith like hers—with all the weight of absolute certainty in it—we can sing her hymn:

My Lord, how full of sweet content I pass my years of banishment. Where'er I dwell, I dwell with Thee, In heaven or earth, or on the sea.

To me remains nor place nor time: My country is in every clime; I can be calm and free from care On any shore, since God is there.

And could a dearer vade mecum enrich a Christian's outfit than these lines treasured in memory?

While place we seek or place we shun, The soul finds happiness in none; But, with a God to guide our way, 'Tis equal joy to go or stay.

Cowper, and also Dr. Thomas Upham, translated (from the French) the religious poems of Madame Guyon. This hymn is Cowper's translation.

THE TUNE.

A gentle and sympathetic melody entitled "Alsace" well represents the temper of the words—and in name links the nationalities of writer and composer. It is a choral arranged from a sonata of the great Ludwig von Beethoven, born in Bonn, Germany, 1770, and died in Vienna, Mar. 1827. Like the author of the hymn he felt the hand of affliction, becoming totally deaf soon after his fortieth year. But, in spite of the privation, he kept on writing sublime and exquisite strains that only his soul could hear. His fame rests upon his oratorio, "The Mount of Olives," the opera of "Fidelio" and his nine wonderful "Symphonies."

"NO CHANGE IN TIME SHALL EVER SHOCK."

Altered to common metre from the awkward long metre of Tate and Brady, the three or four stanzas found in earlier hymnals are part of their version (probably Tate's) of the 31st Psalm—and it is worth calling to mind here that there is no hymn treasury so rich in tuneful faith and reliance upon God in trouble as the Book of Psalms. This feeling of the Hebrew poet was never better expressed (we might say, translated) in English than by the writer of this single verse—

No change of time shall ever shock My trust, O Lord, in Thee, For Thou hast always been my Rock, A sure defense to me.

THE TUNE.

The sweet, tranquil choral long ago wedded to this hymn is lost from the church collections, and its very name forgotten. In fact the hymn itself is now seldom seen. If it ever comes back, old "Dundee" (Guillaume Franc 1500-1570) will sing for it, or some new composer may rise up to put the spirit of the psalm into inspired notes.

"WHY DO WE MOURN DEPARTED FRIENDS?"

This hymn of holy comfort, by Dr. Watts, was long associated with a remarkable tune in C minor, "a queer medley of melody" as Lowell Mason called it, still familiar to many old people as "China." It was composed by Timothy Swan when he was about twenty-six years of age (1784) and published in 1801 in the New England Harmony. It may have sounded consolatory to mature mourners, singers and hearers in the days when religious emotion habitually took a sad key, but its wild and thrilling chords made children weep. The tune is long out of use—though, strange to say, one of the most recent hymnals prints the hymn with a new minor tune.

Why do we mourn departed friends, Or shake at death's alarms? 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to His arms.

Are we not tending upward too As fast as time can move? Nor should we wish the hours more slow To keep us from our Love.

The graves of all His saints He blessed And softened every bed: Where should the dying members rest But with their dying Head?

Timothy Swan was born in Worcester, Mass., July 23, 1758, and died in Suffield, Ct., July 23, 1842. He was a self-taught musician, his only "course of study" lasting three weeks,—in a country singing school at Groton. When sixteen years old he went to Northfield, Mass., and learned the hatter's trade, and while at work began to practice making psalm-tunes. "Montague," in two parts, was his first achievement. From that time for thirty years, mostly spent in Suffield, Ct., he wrote and taught music while supporting himself by his trade. Many of his tunes were published by himself, and had a wide currency a century ago.

Swan was a genius in his way, and it was a true comment on his work that "his tunes were remarkable for their originality as well as singularity—unlike any other melodies." "China," his masterpiece, will be long kept track of as a curio, and preserved in replicates of old psalmody to illustrate self-culture in the art of song. But the major mode will replace the minor when tender voices on burial days sing—

Why do we mourn departed friends?

Another hymn of Watts,—

God is the refuge of His saints When storms of sharp distress invade,

—sung to Lowell Mason's liquid tune of "Ward," and the priceless stanza,—

Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are,

doubly prove the claim of the Southampton bard to a foremost place with the song-preachers of Christian trust.

The psalm (Amsterdam version), "God is the refuge," etc., is said to have been sung by John Howland in the shallop of the Mayflower when an attempt was made to effect a landing in spite of tempestuous weather. A tradition of this had doubtless reached Mrs. Hemans when she wrote—

Amid the storm they sang, etc.

"FATHER, WHATE'ER OF EARTHLY BLISS."

This hymn had originally ten stanzas, of which the three usually sung are the three last. The above line is the first of the eighth stanza, altered from—

And O, whate'er of earthly bliss.

Probably for more than a century the familiar surname "Steele" attached to this and many other hymns in the hymn-books conveyed to the general public no hint of a mind and hand more feminine than Cowper's or Montgomery's. Even intelligent people, who had chanced upon sundry copies of The Spectator, somehow fell into the habit of putting "Steele" and "Addison" in the same category of hymn names, and Sir Richard Steele got a credit he never sought. But since stories of the hymns began to be published—and made the subject of evening talks in church conference rooms—many have learned what "Steele" in the hymn-book means. It introduces us now to a very retiring English lady, Miss Anna Steele, a Baptist minister's daughter. She was born in 1706, at Broughton, Hampshire, in her father's parsonage, and in her father's parsonage she spent her life, dying there Nov. 1778.

She was many years a severe sufferer from bodily illness, and a lasting grief of mind and heart was the loss of her intended husband, who was drowned the day before their appointed wedding. It is said that this hymn was written under the recent sorrow of that loss.

In 1760 and 1780 volumes of her works in verse and prose were published with her name, "Theodosia," and reprinted in 1863 as "Hymns, Psalms, and Poems, by Anna Steele." The hymn "Father, whate'er," etc., is estimated as her best, though some rank it only next to her—

Dear Refuge of my weary soul.

Other more or less well-known hymns of this devout and loving writer are,—

Lord, how mysterious are Thy ways,

O Thou whose tender mercy hears,

Thou lovely Source of true delight,

Alas, what hourly dangers rise,

So fades the lovely blooming flower.

—to a stanza of which latter the world owes the tune of "Federal St."

THE TUNE.

The true musical mate of the sweet hymn-prayer came to it probably about the time of its hundredth birthday; but it came to stay. Lowell Mason's "Naomi" blends with it like a symphony of nature.

Father, whate'er of earthly bliss Thy sovereign will denies, Accepted at Thy throne of grace Let this petition rise.

Give me a calm and thankful heart From every murmer free. The blessings of Thy grace impart, And make me live to Thee.

"GUIDE ME, O THOU GREAT JEHOVAH."

This great hymn has a double claim on the name of Williams. We do not have it exactly in its original form as written by Rev. William Williams, "The Watts of Wales," familiarly known as "Williams of Pantycelyn." His fellow countryman and contemporary, Rev. Peter Williams, or "Williams of Carmarthen," who translated it from Welsh into English (1771) made alterations and substitutions in the hymn with the result that only the first stanza belongs indisputably to Williams of Pantycelyn, the others being Peter's own or the joint production of the two. As the former, however, is said to have approved and revised the English translation, we may suppose the hymn retained the name of its original author by mutual consent.

Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah, Pilgrim through this barren land. I am weak, but Thou art mighty, Hold me by Thy powerful hand; Bread of heaven, Feed me till I want no more.

Open Thou the crystal Fountain Whence the healing streams do flow, Let the fiery cloudy pillar Lead me all my journey through. Strong Deliverer, Be Thou still my Strength and Shield!

When I tread the verge of Jordan Bid my anxious fears subside; Death of death, and hell's destruction, Land me safe on Canaan's side. Songs of praises I will ever give to Thee.

Musing on my habitation, Musing on my heavenly home, Fills my heart with holy longing; Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come. Vanity is all I see, Lord, I long to be with Thee.

The second and third stanzas have not escaped the touch of critical editors. The line,—

Whence the healing streams do flow

—becomes,—

Whence the healing waters flow,

—with which alteration there is no fault to find except that it is needless, and obliterates the ancient mark. But the third stanza, besides losing its second line for—

Bid the swelling stream divide,

—is weakened by a more needless substitution. Its original third line—

Death of death, and hell's destruction,

—is exchanged for the commonplace—

Bear me through the swelling current.

That is modern taste; but when modern taste meddles with a stalwart old hymn it is sometimes more nice than wise.

It is probable that the famous hymn was sung in America before it obtained a European reputation. Its history is as follows: Lady Huntingdon having read one of Williams' books with much spiritual satisfaction, persuaded him to prepare a collection of hymns, to be called the Gloria in Excelsis, for special use in Mr. Whitefield's Orphans' House in America. In this collection appeared the original stanzas of "Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah." In 1774, two years after its publication in the Gloria in Excelsis, it was republished in England in Mr. Whitefield's collections of hymns.

The Rev. Peter Williams was born in the parish of Llansadurnen, Carmarthenshire, Wales, Jan. 7, 1722, and was educated in Carmarthen College. He was ordained in the Established Church and appointed to a curacy, but in 1748 joined the Calvinistic Methodists. He was an Independent of the Independents however, and preached where ever he chose. Finally he built a chapel for himself on his paternal estate, where he ministered during the rest of his life. Died Aug. 8, 1796.

THE TUNE.

If "Sardius," the splendid old choral (triple time) everywhere identified with the hymn, be not its original music, its age at least entitles it to its high partnership. The Sacred Lyre (1858) ascribes it to Ludovic Nicholson, of Paisley, Scotland, violinist and amateur composer, born 1770; died 1852; but this is not beyond dispute. Of several names one more confidently referred to as its author is F.H. Barthelemon (1741-1808).

"PEACE, TROUBLED SOUL"

Is the brave faith-song of a Christian under deep but blameless humiliation—Sir Walter Shirley[16].

[Footnote 16: See page 127]

THE TUNE.

Apparently the favorite in several (not recent) hymnals for the subdued but confident spirit of this hymn of Sir Walter Shirley is Mazzinghi's "Palestine," appearing with various tone-signatures in different books. The treble and alto lead in a sweet duet with slur-flights, like an obligato to the bass and tenor. The melody needs rich and cultured voices, and is unsuited for congregational singing. So, perhaps, is the hymn itself.

Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive moan Hath taught these rocks the notes of woe; Cease thy complaint—suppress thy groan, And let thy tears forget to flow; Behold the precious balm is found, To lull thy pain, to heal thy wound.

Come, freely come, by sin oppressed, Unburden here thy weighty load; Here find thy refuge and thy rest, And trust the mercy of thy God. Thy God's thy Saviour—glorious word! For ever love and praise the Lord.

As now sung the word "scenes" is substituted for "rocks" in the second line, eliminating the poetry. Rocks give an echo; and the vivid thought in the author's mind is flattened to an unmeaning generality.

Count Joseph Mazzinghi, son of Tommasso Mazzinghi, a Corsican musician, was born in London, 1765. He was a boy of precocious talent. When only ten years of age he was appointed organist of the Portuguese Chapel, and when nineteen years old was made musical director and composer at the King's Theatre. For many years he held the honor of Music Master to the Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, and his compositions were almost numberless. Some of his songs and glees that caught the popular fancy are still remembered in England, as "The Turnpike Gate," "The Exile," and the rustic duet, "When a Little Farm We Keep."

Of sacred music he composed only one mass and six hymn-tunes, of which latter "Palestine" is one. Mazzinghi died in 1844, in his eightieth year.

"BEGONE UNBELIEF, MY SAVIOUR IS NEAR."

The Rev. John Newton, author of this hymn, was born in London, July 24, 1725. The son of a sea-captain, he became a sailor, and for several years led a reckless life. Converted, he took holy orders and was settled as curate of Olney, Buckinghamshire, and afterwards Rector of St. Mary of Woolnoth, London, where he died, Dec. 21, 1807. It was while living at Olney that he and Cowper wrote and published the Olney Hymns. His defiance to doubt in these lines is the blunt utterance of a sailor rather than the song of a poet:

Begone, unbelief, my Saviour is near, And for my relief will surely appear. By prayer let me wrestle and He will perform; With Christ in the vessel I smile at the storm.

THE TUNE

Old "Hanover," by William Croft (1677-1727), carries Newton's hymn successfully, but Joseph Haydn's choral of "Lyons" is more familiar—and better music.

"Hanover" often accompanies Charles Wesley's lyric,—

Ye servants of God, your Master proclaim.

"HOW FIRM A FOUNDATION."

The question of the author of this hymn is treated at length in Dr. Louis F. Benson's Studies of Familiar Hymns. The utmost that need to be said here is that two of the most thorough and indefatigable hymn-chasers, Dr. John Julian and Rev. H.L. Hastings, working independently of each other, found evidence fixing the authorship with strong probability upon Robert Keene, a precentor in Dr. John Rippon's church. Dr. Rippon was pastor of a Baptist Church in London from 1773 to 1836, and in 1787 he published a song-manual called A Selection of Hymns from the Best Authors, etc., in which "How Firm a Foundation" appears as a new piece, with the signature "K——."

The popularity of the hymn in America has been remarkable, and promises to continue. Indeed, there are few more reviving or more spiritually helpful. It is too familiar to need quotation. But one cannot suppress the last stanza, with its powerful and affecting emphasis on the Divine promise—

The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose I will not, I will not, desert to his foes; That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I'll never, no never, no never forsake.

THE TUNE.

The grand harmony of "Portuguese Hymn" has always been identified with this song of trust.

One opinion of the date of the music writes it "about 1780." Since the habit of crediting it to John Reading (1677-1764) has been discontinued, it has been in several hymnals ascribed to Marco Portogallo (Mark, the Portuguese), a musician born in Lisbon, 1763, who became a composer of operas in Italy, but was made Chapel-Master to the Portuguese King. In 1807, when Napoleon invaded the Peninsula and dethroned the royal house of Braganza, Old King John VI. fled to Brazil and took Marco with him, where he lived till 1815, but returned and died in Italy, in 1830. Such is the story, and it is all true, only the man's name was Simao, instead of Marco. Grove's Dictionary appends to Simao's biography the single sentence, "His brother wrote for the church." That the Brazilian episode may have been connected with this brother's history by a confusion of names, is imaginable, but it is not known that the brother's name was Marco.

On the whole, this account of the authorship of the "Portuguese Hymn"—originally written for the old Christmas church song "Adeste Fideles"—is late and uncertain. Heard (perhaps for the first time) in the Portuguese Chapel, London, it was given the name which still clings to it. If proofs of its Portuguese origin exist, they may yet be found.

"How Firm a Foundation" was the favorite of Deborah Jackson, President Andrew Jackson's beloved wife, and on his death-bed the warrior and statesman called for it. It was the favorite of Gen. Robert E. Lee, and was sung at his funeral. The American love and familiar preference for the remarkable hymn was never more strikingly illustrated than when on Christmas Eve, 1898, a whole corps of the United States army Northern and Southern, encamped on the Quemados hills, near Havana, took up the sacred tune and words—

"Fear not, I am with thee, O be not dismayed."

Lieut. Col. Curtis Guild (since Governor Guild of Massachusetts) related the story in the Sunday School Times for Dec. 7, 1901, and Dr. Benson quotes it in his book.



"WHILE THEE I SEEK, PROTECTING POWER."

Miss Helen Maria Williams, who wrote this gentle hymn of confidence, in 1786, was born in the north of England in 1762. When but a girl she won reputation by her brilliant literary talents and a mental grasp and vigor that led her, like Gail Hamilton, "to discuss public affairs, besides clothing bright fancies and devout thoughts in graceful verse." Most of her life was spent in London, and in Paris, where she died, Dec. 14, 1827.

While Thee I seek, Protecting Power Be my vain wishes stilled, And may this consecrated hour With better hopes be filled:

* * * * *

When gladness wings my favored hour, Thy love my thoughts shall fill, Resigned where storms of sorrow lower My soul shall meet Thy will.

My lifted eye without a tear The gathering storm shall see: My steadfast heart shall know no fear: My heart will rest on Thee.

THE TUNES.

Old "Norwich," from Day's Psalter, and "Simpson," adapted from Louis Spohr, are found with the hymn in several later manuals. In the memories of older worshipers "Brattle-Street," with its melodious choral and duet arranged from Pleyel by Lowell Mason, is inseparable from Miss Williams' words; but modern hymnals have dropped it, probably because too elaborate for average congregational use.

Ignaz Joseph Pleyel was born June 1, 1757, at Ruppersthal, Lower Austria. He was the twenty-fourth child of a village schoolmaster. His early taste and talent for music procured him friends who paid for his education. Haydn became his master, and long afterwards spoke of him as his best and dearest pupil. Pleyel's work—entirely instrumental—was much admired by Mozart.

During a few years spent in Italy, he composed the music of his best-known opera, "Iphigenia in Aulide," and, besides the thirty-four books of his symphonies and chamber-pieces, the results of his prolific genius make a list too long to enumerate. Most of his life was spent in Paris, where he founded the (present) house of Pleyel and Wolfe, piano makers and sellers. He died in that city, Nov. 14, 1831.

"COME UNTO ME."

Come unto Me, when shadows darkly gather, When the sad heart is weary and distressed, Seeking for comfort from your heavenly Father, Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.

This sweet hymn, by Mrs. Catherine Esling, is well known to many thousands of mourners, as also is its equally sweet tune of "Henley," by Lowell Mason. Melody and words melt together like harp and flute.

Large are the mansions in thy Father's dwelling, Glad are the homes that sorrows never dim, Sweet are the harps in holy music swelling. Soft are the tones that raise the heavenly hymn.

Mrs. Catherine Harbison Waterman Esling was born in Philadelphia, Apr. 12, 1812. A writer for many years under her maiden name, Waterman, she married, in 1840, Capt. George Esling, of the Merchant Marine, and lived in Rio Janeiro till her widowhood, in 1844.

JOHN WESLEY'S HYMN.

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

These are the opening lines of "John Wesley's Hymn," so called because his other hymns are mostly translations, and because of all his own it is the one commonly quoted and sung.

John Wesley, the second son in the famous Epworth family of ministers, was a man who knew how to endure "hardness as a good soldier of Christ." He was born June 27, 1703, and studied at Charterhouse, London, and at Christ Church, Oxford, becoming a Fellow of Lincoln College. After taking holy orders he went as a missionary to Georgia, U.S., in 1735, and on his return began his remarkable work in England, preaching a more spiritual type of religion, and awakening the whole kingdom with his revival fervor and his brother's kindling songs. The following paragraph from his itinerant life, gathered probably from a page of his own journals, gives a glimpse of what the founder of the great Methodist denomination did and suffered while carrying his Evangelical message from place to place.

On February 17, 1746, when days were short and weather far from favorable, he set out on horseback from Bristol to Newcastle, a distance between three and four hundred miles. The journey occupied ten days. Brooks were swollen, and in some places the roads were impassable, obliging the itinerant to go round through the fields. At Aldrige Heath, in Staffordshire, the rain turned to snow, which the northerly wind drove against him, and by which he was soon crusted over from head to foot. At Leeds the mob followed him, and pelted him with whatever came to hand. He arrived at Newcastle, February 26, "free from every anxious thought," and "every worldly fear."

How lightly he regarded hardship and molestation appears from his verses—

Whatever molests or troubles life, When past, as nothing we esteem, And pain, like pleasure, is a dream.

And that he actually enjoys the heroic freedom of a rough-rider missionary life is hinted in his hymn—

Confined to neither court nor cell, His soul disdains on earth to dwell, He only sojourns here.

God evidently built John Wesley fire-proof and water-proof with a view to precisely what he was to undertake and accomplish. His frame was vigorous, and his spirit unconquerable. Besides all this he had the divine gift of a religious faith that could move mountains and a confidence in his mission that became a second nature. No wonder he could suffer, and last. The brave young man at thirty was the brave old man at nearly ninety. He died in London, March 2, 1791.

Blest with the scorn of finite good, My soul is lightened of its load And seeks the things above.

There is my house and portion fair; My treasure and my heart are there, And my abiding home.

For me my elder brethren stay, And angels beckon me away. And Jesus bids me come.

THE TUNE.

An air found in the Revivalist (1869), in sextuple time, that has the real camp-meeting swing, preserves the style of music in which the hymn was sung by the circuit-preachers and their congregations—ringing out the autobiographical verses with special unction. The favorite was—

No foot of land do I possess, No cottage in this wilderness; A poor wayfaring man, I lodge awhile in tents below, Or gladly wander to and fro Till I my Canaan gain.

More modern voices sing the John Wesley hymn to the tune "Habakkuk," by Edward Hodges. It has a lively three-four step, and finer melody than the old.

Edward Hodges was born in Bristol, Eng., July 20, 1796, and died there Sept. 1876. Organist at Bristol in his youth, he was graduated at Cambridge and in 1825 received the doctorate of music from that University. In 1835 he went to Toronto, Canada, and two years later to New York city, where he was many years Director of Music at Trinity Church. Returned to Bristol in 1863.

"WHEN GATHERING CLOUDS AROUND I VIEW."

One of the restful strains breathed out of illness and affliction to relieve one soul and bless millions. It was written by Sir Robert Grant (1785-1838).

When gathering clouds around I view, And days are dark, and friends are few, On Him I lean who not in vain Experienced every human pain.

The lines are no less admirable for their literary beauty than for their feeling and their faith. Unconsciously, it may be, to the writer, in this and the following stanza are woven an epitome of the Saviour's history. He—

Experienced every human pain, —felt temptation's power, —wept o'er Lazarus dead,

—and the crowning assurance of Jesus' human sympathy is expressed in the closing prayer,—

—when I have safely passed Thro' every conflict but the last, Still, still unchanging watch beside My painful bed—for Thou hast died.

THE TUNE.

Of the few suitable six-line long metre part songs, the charming Russian tone-poem of "St. Petersburg" by Dimitri Bortniansky is borrowed for the hymn in some collections, and with excellent effect. It accords well with the mood and tenor of the words, and deserves to stay with it as long as the hymn holds its place.

Dimitri Bortniansky, called "The Russian Palestrina," was born in 1752 at Gloukoff, a village of the Ukraine. He studied music in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Vienna, Rome and Naples. Returning to his native land, he was made Director of Empress Catharine's church choir. He reformed and systematized Russian church music, and wrote original scores in the intervals of his teaching labors. His works are chiefly motets and concertos, which show his genius for rich harmony. Died 1825.

"JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT ONE PLEA."

Charlotte Elliott, of Brighton, Eng., would have been well-known through her admired and useful hymns,—

My God, my Father, while I stray,

My God, is any hour so sweet,

With tearful eyes I look around,

—and many others. But in "Just as I am" she made herself a voice in the soul of every hesitating penitent. The currency of the hymn has been too swift for its authorship and history to keep up with, but it is a blessed law of influence that good works out-run biographies. This master-piece of metrical gospel might be called Miss Elliott's spiritual-birth hymn, for a reply of Dr. Caesar Malan of Geneva was its prompting cause. The young lady was a stranger to personal religion when, one day, the good man, while staying at her father's house, in his gentle way introduced the subject. She resented it, but afterwards, stricken in spirit by his words, came to him with apologies and an inquiry that confessed a new concern of mind. "You speak of coming to Jesus, but how? I'm not fit to come."

"Come just as you are," said Dr. Malan.

The hymn tells the result.

Like all the other hymns bound up in her Invalid's Hymn-book, it was poured from out the heart of one who, as the phrase is, "never knew a well day"—though she lived to see her eighty-second year.

Illustrative of the way it appeals to the afflicted, a little anecdote was told by the eloquent John B. Gough of his accidental seat-mate in a city church service. A man of strange appearance was led by the kind usher or sexton to the pew he occupied. Mr. Gough eyed him with strong aversion. The man's face was mottled, his limbs and mouth twitched, and he mumbled singular sounds. When the congregation sang he attempted to sing, but made fearful work of it. During the organ interlude he leaned toward Mr. Gough and asked how the next verse began. It was—

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind.

"That's it," sobbed the strange man, "I'm blind—God help me!"—and the tears ran down his face—"and I'm wretched—and paralytic," and then he tried hard to sing the line with the rest.

"After that," said Mr. Gough, "the poor paralytic's singing was as sweet to me as a Beethoven symphony."

Charlotte Elliott was born March 18, 1789, and died in Brighton, Sept. 22, 1871. She stands in the front rank of female hymn-writers.

The tune of "Woodworth," by William B. Bradbury, has mostly superseded Mason's "Elliott," and is now the accepted music of this lyric of perfect faith and pious surrender.

Just as I am,—Thy love unknown Hath broken every barrier down, Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

"MY HOPE IS BUILT ON NOTHING LESS."

The Rev. Edward Mote was born in London, 1797. According to his own testimony his parents were not God-fearing people, and he "went to a school where no Bible was allowed;" but at the age of sixteen he received religious impressions from a sermon of John Hyatt in Tottenham Court Chapel, was converted two years later, studied for the ministry, and ultimately became a faithful preacher of the gospel. Settled as pastor of the Baptist Church in Horsham, Sussex, he remained there twenty-six years—until his death, Nov. 13, 1874. The refrain of his hymn came to him one Sabbath when on his way to Holborn to exchange pulpits: