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IIIliſi *… ºº T |N||||||W. Hill #. §[. ſº ŻĘ -ſae #ffff; §§！\， ĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪ wae ĶīļūĮ -------- - … • • • …”！ ĮİĪİIĮĮĶĪĪİIĮ ſº R Ķ } Ē §§§ &º ĪĪİIĮ ！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||III º III | º ||||||I|| Cºlºrºezer sº ºº::=} \ º | | ||||| º sºº-ºº: Ea. E. GIFT OF Fºss. - Austin Warren ºxº~~~sº IIIIIIIII] Ț №， №aeae ºrs º tº: E-R-T-7 Ē *№ae， §：（-8，5） - - - - -:：= № ſmſ s º ſ miſſimilmſ. Immſ ſiſ ſmſm Im. HINII U [5] l* * - Poetic Quality Essential, | Workshop in Church Music Told |director of the School of Fine Arts at the Uni-| |third annual workshop in church music this week at North | |the same principles,” he says. | hymnody is established by an- : |to be sung in a service of wor- |ship that they would not accept; |as good poetry by their ordi- |nary standards. - ture,” in the opinion of Dr. Har. |the line of popular sentiment; |slight meaning. .-- --- don’t amount to anything. | the Bible in the reverence and | | “On the other hand if we are ple,” he explained. |honest enough in recognizing , , , - have to worry about the music |because people don't set good |poetry to cheap music. . *~- - , ,-, *- — Nº. 10. 1%.” Vote of Criticism Sounded “A hymn is poetry. The musical setting is secondary.” - Dr. Earl E. Harper, editor of hymnals and versity of Iowa, thinks many mistakes would bel avoided if everybody would keep that in mind.] .." BY FRANK HAYES : “You should apply the same principles of literary criticism to hymns as you do to other poetry,” he has been telling the Central College, Naperville. T ... . . * - - “Many ministers don’t apply | | “THE STANDARD of fine “Therefore they allow verses! cient Greek and Latin hymns| . - particularly the hymns of St.] Augustine,” said Dr. Harper. While a hymn is literature || it is also “uncanonized Scrip-] - '* * * * per, who for four years was] * “I THINK they are following chairman of the department of] t worship and the arts of the Na- tional Conference of Churches| |of Christ in America. f ' ' , - * * * and accept verses which have st - | - * ." a.º.º.º. | | "rºom a religious point off of content and literary form, view a hymnal belongs next to i affection of the Christian peo-I The minister should select the hymns but the choir di- rector should confer with him and make sure the service, is unified, according to Dr. that hymns are poetry we don't .."The musical settings are George Luntz, director of simply provided to make the North Central College School poetry available for use in cor- of Music. tº The workshop in church ymli- sic at North Central College is |a project he developed, sincel & tº 4. l;} coming to the collegeº HISTORIC HYMN | STS A PORTRAIT GALLERY OF GREAT HYMN WRITERS BY TH r REV. CHARLES S. NUTTER Author of “Hymn studies 2 3 (24.2% h g Cº., Wºrk: **-**) 6-224– B O S T O N PU [3 I, T S I I IC I) {3 Y T II E A U T H () R I 8 Q 3 3T-3 . \ N S-) s Copyright, 1892 By CHARLEs S. NUTTER, BOSTON, MASS. A// rights reserved ^ / . / 24/~e?… /.. / sº-(A-4 - …) / / A .. - /*g/ i.Z. { ( - f * * / / f /.g. 2 - A f P R E F A C E . HOSE who have written inspiring songs of praise should be numbered among Our best friends. This work has been prepared for the purpose of making lovers of hymns better acquainted with these friends. The book is characterized by three im- portant features; namely, portraits of great hymn writers, biographical sketches of these authors, and specimens of their work. The portraits speak to the eye and to the heart. We unconsciously make a mental picture of the people concerning whom we read, but unless we have the aid of a portrait we can have no assurance that our mental image is correct. Some Of these portraits have never before been given to the public, and most of them are not familiar. They should be studied, lovingly and long, until their features are so photographed upon the mind that they can be recalled at will. The biographical sketches are not long, but they fairly and truly represent the characters of these people inspired of Heaven to teach in holy song. They were men and women of more than ordinary genius, piety, and learning ; and we are sure that the better they are known the more they will be appreciated. The hymns given may be considered as illustrations of the ability of the authors. Some of them are well known favorites; others, less familiar, are equally deserving favorable attention. A few hymns have been especially written for this work. To memorize grand religious poetry is at once a means of culture and of grace. This admirable custom of Saints of all ages should be revived. In the opinion of the editor there is not a stanza in this book that is not worthy of patient study. Some of the hymns are slightly modernized in Orthography, but unless otherwise indicated, are given without abbreviation, and in authentic form. They are arranged chronologically, to indicate the progress of Christian hymnody through the ages. CHA R I, ES S. 4 13 ER WICK PARK, ROSTON, MAss., Sept. 19, 1892. tº-º-º-º-º- - -- ... --~. . — -- *-- - - - - - - - -º- - ..." - --- The Unknown Hymn, “WHEN they had sung an hymn, they went unto The Mount of Olives”—ah, if we but knew The Secret Of that unknown hymn, which came Between Christ’s feast of love, His CrOSS of Shame! . ...What was the Song that in that upper room Rose full and sweet within the gathering - gloom? º Could we but know, what comfort it would be When we, too, tread toward our Gethsemane, When friends 'betray even in the hour of trust, When wrong and hatred crush us to the dust, When all our way is darkness, and We go Toward Calvary with bleeding feet and slow ! Nay—if we knew it, could we, would We, Sing? We, who lament at each Small chastening, We, who so seldom and so feebly raise, Even in joyful hours, a song of praise? …” How should so brave, so high a triumph-Song To our unworthy lips and lives belong? It is the Victor's hymn, who to the grave Could walk in strength, a mocking World to Sa,Ve. Not for our lips so glorious a strain; Before Christ’s cross its secret must remain. . . . . . . . . . —Priscilla Leonard. tº ~ /, A. - .* - - - * f 4. * gy’ - ; : *r'... " -> -- "a * < x. A | ! ºf stand and sing, with Stephen of source of A GREATHYMN Stephen of Marsa Thou Weary? Art Thou Languid?”— Solace to the Troubled for Twelve turies & • . º * [Rev. C. W. Hardon in The Christian Advocated Beside the eastern wall of old Jerusalem there flows the romantic brook of Kedron, singing its way down to the river Jordan, In 720 A. D. there came a famous scholar and teacher, John of Damascus, to live the recluse life of the Kedron Monastéry. ºfää been built into th Kédºff two centuries before by §t-Sabas. John brought with him his nephew, Stephen, a boy of ten years. The child ºrs: §º Sºcińs. Cen- entered the grim monastéry, never to leave. it again. For fifty-nine years he served in the ascetic institution, and big dust rests within its walls. the corrtmunity and the master ºf the choir. In the solitude of his ascetic life; hé poured out his soul into a great hymn, and through a dozen centuries he has ceased not to speak to the weary and troubled of 32 the hymn was translated fºLatinº to the English 'by Dr. John Mason. Seaſe, and now its holy influence filly-aſſ the house of God. Let all the peo- Mar- sabia, this blessed Christian hymn: Art thou weary? art thou languid? Art thou sore distressed? - - “Come to me,” saith One, “and, coming, Be at rest.” - - % & Hath. He marks to lead me to Him. If He be my guide? . “In His feet and hands are wound prints, And His side.” - - ls there diadem, as monarch, That His brow adorns? “Yea, a crown, in very surety, But of thorns.” - If I find Him, if I follow, What His guerdon here? “Many a sorrow, many a labor, Many a fear.” Tºd; If I still hold closely to Him, What hath. He at last? “Sorrow vanquished, labor ended, Jordan passed.” . If I ask Him to receive me. - Will He say me nay? “Not till earth and not till heaven. . . . . Pass away.” ; : . . . . Fifiding, following, keeping, •rusales. * Is He sure to bless? . . . . “Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs, * Answer ‘Yes.’” - He became the poet of ba the originator of “Art | (10×2.2%. 6.7. Kº ADDISON, JOSEPH ALFORD, HENRY BAXTER, RICHARD BETHUNE, GEORGE W. . BONAR, HORATIUs. fºnt-bºok,” JOHN . BRYANT, WILLIAM C. BYROM, JOHN CENNICK, ocº k. OHN * Joseph, COWPER, WILLIAM DAVIES, SAMUEL . DOANE, GEORGE W. DODDRIDGE, PHILIP FABER, FREDERICK W. FAwcETT, GERHARDT, PAUL . GILMORE, JOSEPH H. - - Dwight, TIMOTHY Rºta, tº Elwoº ELLIOTT, CHARLOTTE JOHN GUYON, MADAME . HASTINGS, THOMAS HAVERGAL, FRANCES R. HAWEIS, THOMAS . HEBER, REGINALD HERBERT, GEORGE 32 & 4 of Book' INDEX OF 2.0 PA 23 Q I 59 I 79 I 39 I 47 47 67 87 7 I I5 I 5 I 2–5 i IO7 I 3 I I 9 I 99 I 9 2O3 35 I 2 3 2O7 9 I II 9 t I 5 A UTHORS. HUNTINGDON, LADY e * JAMES, MARY D. . KEBLE, JOHN KEN, THOMAS e LELAND, JOHN LUTHER, MARTIN . MASON, JOHN © MEDLEY, SAMUEL . MONTGOMERy, JAMES NEWMAN, JOHN H. NEWTON, JOHN . OLIVERS, THOMAS PALMER, RAY e PRENTISS, ELIZABETH SMITH, SAMUEL F. STENNETT, SAMUEL TAPPAN, WILLIAM B. TAYLOR, THOMAS R. TOPLADY, AUGUSTU's M. VAN ALSTYNE, FRANCES J. . WATTs, ISAAC WESLEy, CHARLES WESLEy, JOHN . WHITE, HENRY K. WHITTIER, JOHN G, . º Hº AGE 59 I83 I 35 3 I I I I II 27 95 I I5 I55 75 79 I 75 I95 I 7 I 83 I43 167 IO3 I99 43 63 55 I 27 I63 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. g - e- . . . . . •. ! * ~ (.…. ." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aº x - º gººd Cººk. - A fragment of a rainbow bright. A little bird I am A mighty fortress is our God Afflicted Soul, to Jesus dear . All I feel, and hear, and see All for Jesus ! all for Jesus ! . - All praise to Him of Nazareth . . All praise to Thee, my God, this night, Almighty King ! whose wondrous hand, Amazing grace ; how sweet the sound, And have I, Christ, no love for Thee As on the cross the Saviour hung As shadows, cast by cloud and sun Awake, my soul, and with the Sun . Blest be my God, that I was born . Blest be the tie that binds Bright and joyful is the morn Child of sin and sorrow Christians, if your hearts be warm . Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise Come, Holy Ghost, in love . Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life Come, O Thou Traveller, unknown Come, Saviour Jesus, from above Commit thou all thy griefs Death worketh . Earth's shadowy years will soon be o'r, Enthroned on high, almighty Lord Eternal Power, whose high abode . Faith, Hope, and Love . . . . From all that dwell below the skies From Greenland's icy mountains From the cross uplifted high 2 /o I’A (3 E 83 84 I 48 3 I 27 99 I I 6 I 24 II 2 IO7 I 76 16 64 47 2 O I8O I 24 92 44 48 44 I 2 O 9 I | . I 36 Gently, Lord, O gently Lead us Glory be to God, the Father God of all grace, Supreme, alone God is love . His mercy brightens Grace ’tis a charming sound Grant me, great Lord, Thy graces three, Great God of wonders all Thy ways. Hang out the glorious old red cross Hark! from the skies the great com- mand º Hark! the glad sound He leadeth me ! O blessed thought ! Hosanna to the living Lord . How doth the little busy bee How happy is the pilgrim's lot . How sweetly flowed the gospel's sound, I am trusting Thee, Lord Jesus. I lay my sins on Jesus . - I love the Lord who died for me I love to trust in Jesus Immortal love, forever full I’m but a stranger here In evil long I took delight In the cross of Christ I glory Into my closet fleeing, as a dove It is not death to die . It is the Lord, my soul be still . Jehovah's praises let us sing. Jesus, these eyes have never seen . Jesus, Save my dying soul Jesus, when I fainting lie Just as I am — without one plea Just when Thou wilt, O Master, call . I 76 . I 24 . I 88 l'A (G F. . I 2 3 . I SO . I 7 I . I 40 5 I * I 52 . I 52 72 52 . 2 O3 . I 2 O 44 56 I 4O 2 O8 º I 79 67 . I 84 . I 63 . 167 75 . I 4O . I 9 I6 24 I 32 . 2 OS 6 - . . . . . .* | ºut. offer Flse. #: . I 24 I ND EX O F FIRST LINE.S. Nº. ...” ~f ' ' - | | f * * ºf / % - * , f .” --~~ Lead, kindly light . Let all the world in every corner sing. Lord, I am Thine, entirely Thine . Lord of our life, God whom we fear Lord ' who has bled and died for me . More love to Thee, O Christ | -" s e s \, tº + 2 - 4 º' Mortals, awake, with angels join - N if . * S. Kºº. ſº- My country, 'tis of thee * My faith looks up to Thee . . . My God and Father while I stray My God how wonderful Thou art My soul doth magnify the Lord My stock lies dead and no increase My trembling soul to Jesus turned My whole, though broken heart Not of terrestrial mortal themes Now the Saviour standeth pleading O blessed fellowship divine . O happy day that fixed my choice O God my sins are manifold O God Thy power is wonderful O Jesus, draw nearer . O Jesus ! Once on Galilee O Lord, my God, in mercy turn O north, with all thy vales of green O, not my own these verdant hills. () Thou by long experience tried O Thou from whom all goodness flows, O Thou, to whose all-searching sight . Of all the joys that are on earth Praise to the Holiest in the height. Prayer is the soul's sincere desire Prostrate, dear Jesus, at Thy feet Return, O wanderer, to thy home . Rock of Ages, cleft for me Saviour and Lord of all Softly now the light of day Some say, compared to Bononcini. Sometimes a light surprises Songs of praise the angels sang . […/9/v A2-, . ...” {_2 . ~~ 4. lº, Jºseº & f Y ~, , ; ; : y : - * ~ * - : - . Çſ. - .* 1. Vvv ſ \_ wº. 4 Čº fºr f - it. - ! - { (, ; ; g, tºv \ c & K.”.” \ W. tº- *p. • -i. , & 5 & , #f- *** L3 --. * º t - "I A. , N 2. ** + ! . . . ſ: p **t lºv. lºw. t jº, ſº, * Sic lºu. # tº :l #prº t • º *. % cºk. ºf- %. , \\"...va/ Asº | &: '...? & , P º --xº~4Å. a Z (2. (). 45) tº ºf wº Q.2 {1,2,4-x_ vºv {?"-- `-- ſ." y SPEAKETH.) The heart grows still when I am heard, And opens to God's Truth and Word ; So are we by Elisha taught, Who on the harp the Spirit sought. The best time of the year is mine, When all the little birds combine To sing until the earth and air Are filled with sweet sounds everywhere ; And most the tender nightingale Makes joyful every wood and dale, Singing her love-song o'er and O'er, For which we thank her evermore. But yet more thanks are due from us To the dear Lord who made her thus, A singer apt to touch the heart, Mistress of all my dearest art. To God she sings by night and day, Unwearied, praising Him alway : Him I, too, laud in every Song, To whom all thanks and praise belong. BURG IST UNSER GOTT. And though this world, with devils filled, Should threaten to undo us; We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us. The Prince of Darkness grim — We tremble not for him ; His rage we can endure, For lo his doom is sure, One little word shall fell him. That word above all earthly powers — No thanks to them — abideth ; The Spirit and the gifts are ours Through Him who with us sideth. Let goods and kindred go, This mortal life also : The body they may kill; God’s truth abideth still, His kingdom is forever. |, \, if •ºeºs º- | p (0 × 9 acaº, * * , - * * * */ sº Martin Luther, Painted in the Year. He Died, by Lucas Cranach. The Man and His Work.” - - From “Martin Luther GEORGE HERBERT, Huthor of "Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright.” HISTORIC HYMNIST.S. I 5 REW. GEORGE HERBERT, M.A. “Holy GEORGE HERBERT,” as he has long been styled, was born in a noble English family in 1593. When only four years of age he had the misfortune to lose his father, but his excellent mother practically filled the place of both parents. He was educated at Westminster School and Trinity College, Cambridge, where he was made M.A. In 1619 Herbert was elected orator of his University, which office he held eight in 1615. years. At this time he was a courtier of King James and looked forward to political life, but the death of James destroyed his hopes, and soon after he resolved to enter sacred orders. In that age the ministry was regarded as a mean Office, beneath the merits of a gentleman. Admitting the disrepute into which the ministry had fallen, Herbert wrote, “I will labor to make it honorable by consecrating all my learning, and all my poor abilities, to advance the glory of that God that gave them ; knowing that I can never do too much for Him that hath done so much for me as to make me a Christian. And I will labor to be like my Saviour by making humility lovely in the eyes of all men and by following the merciful and meek example of my dear Jesus.” In 1626 he was ordained deacon and given the charge of a parish at Layton. He rebuilt the church, which had fallen into ruin, and restored it to prosperity. In 1630 he was made a priest, and with his devoted wife went to live in the parsonage at Bainton. His faithful teaching and devoted life soon told upon the people. He read prayers in his chapel twice a day; gentlemen left their pleasures, and yeomen their ploughs, when Mr. Herbert’s “ saint's-bell’’ rang to prayers. His chief recreation was music, which he loved as passionately as did Martin Luther. He frequently said, “Religion does not banish mirth, but only moderates and sets rules to it.” His ministry was short; in the midst of his usefulness “he was not, for God took him.” Herbert's sacred poems reflect his holy life like a mirror. They are both Quaint and good, and are highly prized by devout souls. I6 G R E A T H YMN WRITERS. VIRTUE. SWºr day, SO cool, SO calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky; The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives. THE CALL. CoMº my Way, my Truth, my Life : Such a Way as gives us breath, Such a Truth as ends all strife, Such a Life as killeth death. Come my Light, my Feast, my Strength : Such a Light as shows a feast, Such a Feast as mends in length, Such a Strength as makes his guest. Come my Joy, my Love, my Heart, Such a Joy as none can move, Such a Love as none can part, Such a Heart as joys in love. GRACE. Y stock lies dead, and no increase Doth my dull husbandry improve ; O let Thy graces without cease Drop from above. If still the sun should hide his face, Thy house would but a dungeon prove, Thy works night's captives. O let grace Drop from above The dew doth every morning fall, And shall the dew outstrip thy Dove? The dew, for which grass cannot call, Drop from above. Death is still working like a mole, And digs my grave at each remove, Let grace work too, and on my soul Drop from above. Sin is still hammering my heart Unto a hardness void of love ; Let Suppl’ing grace, to cross his art, Drop from above. O come for Thou dost know the way, Or if to me Thou wilt not move, Remove me, where I need not say, Drop from above. ANTIPHONE. | ET all the world in every corner sing, –4 My God and King. The heavens are not too high, His praise may thither fly ; The earth is not too low, His praises there may grow. Let all the world in every corner sing, My God and King. The church with psalms must shout, No door can keep them out; But above all, the heart Must bear the longest part. Let all the world in every corner sing, My God and King. PHUL GERHRRDT, Huthor of "Give to the winds thy fears." HIS TO R J C H YMN IS T.S. I9 REV. PAUL GERHARDT. GERMAN hymnody is the richest and most extensive in the world, and Paul Gerhardt is confessedly the prince of German hymn-writers. He was born in TT-----____________ __- - - - - ----... - . . . . . . Saxony in 1606, and educated at the University of Wittenberg. He was employed as a private tutor for scveral years, and did not take holy orders until 165 ſ, when he became pastor of a church at Mittenwalde, near Berlin. Here he passed six quiet years, was married, and published the first of his hymns. These were popular from the beginning, and to them largely Gerhardt owed his early, as well as his later, fame. In 1657 he became associate pastor of the great Church of St. Nicholas, in Berlin, where he was very popular and useful. The Calvinists of that day held extreme views, and the Lutherans frequently opposed some of their doctrines with great vehemence ; especially were they accustomed to maintain that Christ died for all men, and not for the elect only. The controversies between these two parties sometimes became exceedingly W2LTI]]. j In 1662 Frederick William I., the “Great Elector,” undertook to make peace between these bodies, but after several conferences of the leading men he found it im- possible to persuade them that their differences were non-essential. Two years later the Elector published an edict requiring the ministers on both sides to abstain from attacking each other's doctrines publicly; and in the following year he required every beneficed Lutheran clergyman to pledge himself to observe the terms of this edict. Gerhardt, and many others, refused to comply, asserting their right to freedom of speech. With him it was a question of conscience, and in 1666 he was deprived of his appointment. In 1669 he accepted the position of Archdeacon of Lubben, in Saxony, where he remained until his death, in 1676. He was a man of great ability, good education, and genuine piety. The whole number of his hymns is only one hundred and twenty-three. Most of them have been translated into English, and many are in common use. The following translation of one of Gerhardt’s most famous hymns was made by John Wesley, and was published in “Hymns and Sacred Poems,” 1739. 2- . 1 2O G R EA T H YMN W RITE R.S. TRUST IN CoMMT thou all thy griefs And ways into His hands; To His sure truth and tender care, Who earth and heaven commands. Who points the clouds their course, Whom winds and seas obey; He shall direct thy wandering feet, He shall prepare thy way. Thou on the Lord rely, So safe shalt thou go on ; Fix on His work thy steadfast eye, So shall thy work be done. No profit canst thou gain By Self-consuming care : To Him commend thy cause, His ear Attends the softest prayer. Thy everlasting truth, Father, Thy ceaseless love Sees all Thy children's wants, and knows What best for each will prove. And whatsoe'er Thou will'st, Thou dost, O King of kings; What Thy unerring wisdom chose Thy power to being brings. Thou everywhere hast sway, And all things serve Thy might; Thy every act pure blessing is, Thy path unsullied light. When Thou arisest, Lord, What shall Thy work withstand? When all Thy children want Thou giv'st, Who, who shall stay Thy hand P PROVIDENCE. Give to the winds thy fears; Hope, and be undismayed; God hears thy sighs, and Counts thy tears, God shall lift up thy head. Through waves and clouds and storms He gently clears thy way; Wait thou His time, so shall this night Soon end in joyous day. Still heavy is thy heart? Still sink thy spirits down P Cast off the weight, let fear depart, And every care be gone. What though thou rulest not? Yet heaven and earth and hell Proclaim, God sitteth on the throne And ruleth all things well ! Leave to His sovereign sway To choose and to command ; So shalt thou wondering own, His way How wise, how strong His hand. Far, far above thy thought | His counsel shall appear, When fully He the work hath wrought That caused thy needless fear. Thou seest our weakness, Lord, - Our hearts are known to Thee ; O, lift Thou up the sinking hand, Confirm the feeble knee Let us in life, in death, . Thy steadfast truth declare, And publish with our latest breath | r I v - Thy love and guardian care | | | RICHRRD BRXTER, “Jehovah's praises let us sing.” Author of HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. 23 REW. RICHARD BAXTER. HE name of Baxter has been an honorable one for more than two hundred years. He was born in 1615. In youth he was free from the temptations both of poverty and riches. Teachers of religion at that time were sadly ignorant, and frequently immoral, but Baxter was blessed with a pious father who taught him to love the Bible. In his autobiography he confesses his youthful sins, and narrates his early awakening and reformation. Baxter did not attend the University, but was educated by indifferent tutors. His strong mind, love of learning, and great diligence made him a scholar in spite of defec- tive instruction. He was inclined to consumption, and his whole life was a continued battle against disease, yet the amount of work he performed was very great. He was ordained by the Bishop of Worcester in 1638, and labored with good results in the Church of England; especially at Kidderminster, his work was blest to the transformation of the whole community. It had become notorious for ignorance and impiety, but at length it became as famous for civilization and religion. He wrote a large number of tracts and books, some of which were very famous. “The Saint's Everlasting Rest” was written during four months of illness, when he thought he was very near that “rest.” His “Call to the Unconverted ” was written at the earnest request of Bishop Usher. Twenty thousand copies were printed the first year. It was subsequently translated into other languages, and continued its useful work for generations. “Giidas Salvianus; or, the Reformed Pastor,” was written to stimulate ministers to zeal and ſidelity. John Wesley quoted it and recommended it to his preachers. Baxter was a conservative man. He was called a :onformist, but was really as much an—Episcopaſian as a Presbyterian. In theology he was a moderate Calvinist. T During the civil war he was on both sides, and agreed with neither. A chaplain, for a time, in Cromwell's army, he did not approve of many of his acts, and always regarded him as a usurper. At the restoration, with many other moderate dissenters, Baxter was . treated very unjustly. He was prohibited from preaching, and persecuted without justifiable cause. Notwithstanding his moderation and piety, he was brought before the infamous Judge Jeffreys upon the charge of sedition. The trial was a shameful perver- sion of justice. Baxter was pronounced guilty, and remained in prison two years. This was a great hardship, for he was more than seventy years old, and sadly afflicted with sickness. After the Act of Indulgence, 1687, he lived in peace, and continued to preach and write books until 1691, when he died honored and beloved by all good people, Churchmen as well as dissenters. He was a diligent student, a popular preacher, a successful author, an able theologian, and an exemplary Christian. Had he been born later he would not have suffered persecution, and if he had lived in the early times he would have been canonized as a Saint. The first selection is only a fragment. It illustrates a style of stanza invented by Baxter. If the words included in brackets are sung, it is in long meter; if they are omitted, it is changed to common meter. 24 - G REA T H YMN JAZ RITERS. PRAISE TO GOD. EHOVAH'S praises let us sing With cheerful heart and [ſize/ſ) voice; And humbly this our offering bring, And with due fear [in Aſim] rejoice. The heavens above, the earth below, [/0ai/y) apparent to our sight, To mortal man do clearly show Thy [perſect] knowledge, love, and might. How greatly should this God be feared How joyfully [should He] be praised And how obediently be heard And hearts [in love] to Him be raised. THE COVENANT OF FAITH. Y whole, though broken, heart, O Lord From henceforth shall be Thine ; And here I do my vow record : This hand, these words are mine. All that I have, without reserve, I offer here to Thee ; Thy will and honor all shall serve, That Thou bestowedst on me. All that exceptions save I lose ; All that I lose I save ; The treasure of Thy love I choose ; And Thou art all I crave. My God, Thou hast my heart and hand ; I all to Thee resign. I’ll ever to this covenant stand, Though flesh hereat repine. I know that Thou wast willing first, And then madest me consent ; Having thus loved me at the worst, Thou wilt not now repent. Now I have quit all self-pretence, Take charge of what's Thine own, My life, my health, and my defence, Now lie on Thee alone. Now, it belongs not to my care Whether I die or live ; To love and serve Thee is my share, And this Thy grace must give. If life be long, I will be glad, That I may long obey; If short, yet why should I be sad That shall have the same pay P If death shall bruise this springing seed Before it come to fruit, The will with Thee goes for the deed ; Thy life was in the root. Long life is a long grief and toil, And multiplieth faults; In long wars he may have the foil That 'scapes in short assaults. Would I long bear my heavy load, And keep my sorrows long? Would I long sin against my God, And His dear mercy wrong? How much is sinful flesh my foe That doth my soul pervert? To linger here in sin and woe, And steals from God my heart. Christ leads me through no darker rooms Than He went through before ; He that into God's kingdom comes Must enter by this door. Come, Lord, when grace hath made me meet, Thy blessed face to see ; For if Thy work on earth be sweet, What will Thy glory be Then I shall end my sad complaints, And weary, sinful days; And join with the triumphant saints That sing Jehovah's praise. My knowledge of that life is small; The eye of faith is dim ; But it’s enough that Christ knows all, And I shall be with Him. º JOHN M RSON be." * Glory to God the Father Ruthor of HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. 27 # --- REV, JOHN MASON, M.A. A. E of the great lights of the seventeenth century was the Rev. John Mason. N O Richard Baxter called him “the glory of the Church of England.” His “Songs --~ -- - ----- -------------- ºr-...--~~~- ~~ 3 - * : *-* = * * ** * * * * * ----, ... --- - - - - ºn s e - . r __ of Praise” first appeared in 1683, and went through twenty editions. Watts and Wesley º *~~~~~~~~~ ; :-... . . . . some of h liar phrases abundantly proves. The record of this good man is somewhat meagre. graduate of Cambridge, and began his ministry as a curate at Isham in Northampton- In 1674 he became rector of Water-Stratford, in Buckinghamshire, where he He was a master of arts, a shire. remained to the close of life, in 1694. His contemporaries tell us that he was a man of fervent spirit, a popular preacher, who won many seals to his ministry. We are assured that his private life was exemplary, his conversation heavenly, and that he gave himself continually to prayer. His hymns are rightly named “Songs of Praise; ” from first to last they ring with gladness and thanksgiving. His last words were, “I am full of the loving kindness of the Lord.” It is a pleasure not only to reprint two of the hymns of this man, but to show his pleasant face to the lovers of praise. PRAISE FOR THE GOSPEL. BLEST be my God, that I was born To hear the joyful sound ; That I was born to be baptized, And bred on holy ground ; That I was bred where God appears, In tokens of His grace; The lines are fallen unto me In a most pleasant place. Dark language my devotion ; And so I might with blinded eyes Have drunk a deadly potion. SO in a dungeon dark as night, I might have spent my days; But Thou hast sent me gospel light, To Thine eternal praise. The Sun which rose up in the east, And drove their shades away; His healing wings have reached the west And turned our night to day. I might have been a pagan bred, Or else a veiled Jew, Or cheated with an Alcoran Among the Turkish crew. were both familiar with the poetical writings of Mason, as their use of some of his pecu- ſº Dumb pictures might have been my books, 28 G R E A T WRITE R.S. H YMN England at first an Egypt was, Since that proud Babel’s slave ; At last a Canaan it became, And then my birth it gave. Blest be my God, that I have slept The dismal night away, Being kept in Providence’s womb, To England's brightest day. Blest be my God for what I see, My God for what I hear; I hear such blessed news from heaven, Nor earth nor hell I fear. JOY IN MY soul doth magnify the Lord, My spirit doth rejoice In God my Saviour, and my God ; I hear His joyful voice. I need not go abroad for joy, Who have a feast at home ; My sighs are turned into songs, The Comforter is come. Down from above the blessed Dove Is come into my breast, To witness God’s eternal love ; This is my heavenly feast. This makes me Abba, Father, cry, With confidence of soul; It makes me cry, My Lord, my God, And that without control. There is a stream which issues forth From God’s eternal throne, And from the Lamb, a living stream, Clear as a crystal stone. The stream doth water Paradise, It makes the angels sing ; I hear my Lord for me was born, My Lord for me did die; My Lord for me did rise again, And did ascend on high. On high He stands to plead my cause, And will return again, And set me on a glorious throne, That I with Him may reign. Glory to God the Father be, Glory to God the Son; Glory to God the Holy Ghost, Glory to God alone. THE HOLY GHOST. One cordial drop revives my heart, Hence all my joys do Spring. Such joys as are unspeakable, And full of glory, too ; Such hidden manna, hidden pearls, As worldlings do not know. Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard, From fancy 'tis concealed, What Thou, Lord, hast laid up for Thine, And hast to me revealed. I see Thy face, I hear Thy voice, I taste Thy sweetest love ; My soul doth leap ; but O for wings, The wings of Noah's dove Then should I flee far hence away, Leaving this world of sin; Then should my Lord put forth His hand, And kindly take me in. | Then should my soul with angels feast On joys that always last ; Blest be my God, the God of joy, Who gives me here a taste. º º º & º º 4% ºft Fº º - º º #. º º º º % ſº º º º º º º # º ºffſ lſº i. sº sº §§§ º º Nº. § THOMRS KEN, Huthor of “Praise God from whom all blessings flow," w t º, & */ t - * * /Yvº S \x r \ º HISTORIC HYMNIST.S. 3 I BISHOP THOMAS KEN. ONE of the gentlest, truest, grandest men of his age, or any age, was Thomas Ken, author of the familiar doxology. Thousands of doxologies have been written, some of them very excellent, but this has practically crowded them out and become ſhe doxology of the Christian world. Ken was born in Berkhamstead in 1637. He was educated at Winchester and Oxford, receiving the degree of M.A. in 1664. Ordained in 1662, he held several livings in various parts of England. In 1672 he became a prebendary of Winchester Cathedral, where he remained several years. He was chaplain to Charles II., and owed his promotion-to the bishopric in 1685 to his fidelity. The “Merry Monarch " had the good sense to respect and appreciate a chaplain who dared to tell him his faults. His loyalty to what he regarded as the right was never questioned. In 1688 he, with six other bishops, refused to publish the “Declaration of Indulgence" issued by King James, and with them was imprisoned in the Tower of London. After the revo- lution he became a non-juror for conscience' sake, was superseded in office, and spent the rest of his life in retirement. He died in 17 I I, at the residence of his friend, Lord Weymouth. After a con- Sultation he asked his physician how long he was likely to live, and receiving the answer, “About two or three days,” replied, “God’s will be done.” The morning and evening hymns have a world-wide reputation. y MORNING. AWAº my soul, and with the Sun By influence of the sight divine Thy daily stage of duty run ; Let thy Own light to others shine ; Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise Reflect all heaven's propitious rays, To pay thy morning sacrifice. In ardent love and cheerful praise. Thy precious time misspent redeem : Wake and lift up thyself, my heart, Each present day thy last esteem ; And with the angels bear thy part, Improve thy talent with due care ; Who, all night long, unwearied sing For the great day thyself prepare. High praise to the Eternal King. In conversation be sincere; Awake awake | Ye heavenly choir, Keep conscience as the noontide clear; May your devotion me inspire, Think how All-seeing God thy ways That I, like you, my age may spend, And all thy secret thoughts Surveys. Like you may on my God attend. 32 G REA T H YMN WRITERS. May I, like you, in God delight, Have all day long my God in sight, Perform like you my Maker's will. O may I never more do ill Had I your wings, to heaven I’d fly; But God shall that defect supply; And my soul, winged with warm desire, Shall all day long to heaven aspire. All praise to Thee, who safe hast kept, And hast refreshed me whilst I slept Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake, I may of endless life partake. I would not wake, nor rise again, Ev’n heaven itself I would disdain, Wert Thou not there to be enjoyed, And I in hymns to be employed. Heaven is, dear Lord, where'er Thou art; O never then from me depart For, to my soul, 'tis hell to be But for one moment void of Thee. Lord, I my vows to Thee renew ; Disperse my sins as morning dew ; Guard my first springs of thought and will, And with Thyself my spirit fill. Direct, control, suggest, this day, All I design, or do, or Say; That all my powers, with all their might, In Thy sole glory may unite. Praise God, from whom all blessings flow Praise Him, all creatures here below ! Praise Him above, ye heavenly host Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost EVENING. AP! praise to Thee, my God, this night, For all the blessings of the light; Keep me, Oh keep me, King of kings, Beneath Thine Own Almighty wings Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son, The ill that I this day have done; That with the world, myself, and Thee, I, ere I sleep, at peace may be. Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed; To die, that this vile body may Rise glorious at the awful day. O may my soul on Thee repose And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close ; Sleep, that may me more vig'rous make To serve my God when I awake. When in the night I sleepless lie, My soul with heavenly thoughts supply. Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, No powers of darkness me molest. Dull sleep, of sense me to deprive, I am but half my time alive ; Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are grieved To lie so long of Thee bereaved. But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns, Let it not hold me long in chains; And now and then let loose my heart, Till it an hallelujah dart. The faster sleep the senses binds, The more unfettered are our minds ; O may my soul, from matter free, Thy loveliness unclouded see O when shall I, in endless day, For ever chase dark sleep away, And hymns with the Supernal choir Incessant sing, and never tire P O may my guardian, while I sleep, Close to my bed his vigils keep His love angelical instil; Stop all the avenues of ill. May he celestial'joy rehearse, And thought to thought with me converse ; Or in my stead, all the night long, Sing to my God a grateful song ! Praise God, from whom all blessings flow ! Praise Him, all creatures here below ! Praise Him above, ye heavenly host Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost © --~~~~）！！！！！！！！！！ ：，： --------- MRDRME GUYON, “My God, how full of sweet content.” Huthor of HIS TO R H C H YMN IS T.S. 35 JEANNE M. B. DE LA MOTHE GUYON. ADAME GUYON was born in France in 1648. She belonged to a pious and wealthy family. Her naturally ardent disposition was easily influenced for good or evil. When about ten years of age she found a Bible in her room, and spent whole days in reading and memorizing it. At the age of eleven she made her first communion, and was very happy for a time. She was beautiful and vain ; now very sorry for her sins, and then falling into the same temptations, or others equally obnoxious. When she was a little more than fifteen years old her parents contracted her in marriage to a man twenty-two years her senior. Not long after she found herself married to a man she did not love, and the slave of a tyrannical mother-in-law. She was still pious, after a fashion ; very devoted at times, then careless and vain. From her earliest years she had been sinning and repenting, yet hungering and thirsting after righteousness. In her anxiety she consulted a devout Fran- ciscan monk, and told him her trouble. The monk gave her this advice : “Accustom yourself to seek God in your heart and you will find Him.” Not long after she found the soul-rest she had been seeking so many years. Writing her experience she said : “I slept not all that night, because Thy love, O my God flowed in me like delicious oil; and burned as a fire which was going to devour all that was left of self. . . . I was all on a sudden so altered that I was hardly to be known by myself or others. . . . Nothing was more easy to me now than the prac- tice of prayer. I could hardly do anything else but pray.” The following is a translation of her formal consecration : “I henceforth take Jesus Christ to be mine. I promise to receive Him as a husband to me. And I give myself to Him, unworthy though I am, to be His spouse. I ask of Him, in this mar- riage of Spirit with spirit, that I may be of the same mind with Him, - meek, pure, nothing in myself, and united in God’s will. And, pledged as I am to be His, I accept, as a part of my marriage portion, the temptation and sorrows, the crosses and the contempt, which fell On Him.” A beautiful and cultured woman, still young, wealthy, and in good society, she had several advantageous offers of a second marriage, but she refused them all. Desir- ing only Christ as a spouse, she wrote, “I could reject a king with pleasure.” She was imprisoned three times upon the charge of heresy, the last time in the famous Bastile in Paris. In that dismal dungeon she endured solitary confinement four years. She suffered much physically, but her soul was kept in wonderful peace. In one of her poems, entitled “Love increased by suffering,” she wrote these stanzas : Nor exile I, nor prison fear; Nor castle walls nor dungeons deep Love makes my courage great ; Exclude His quickening beams; I find a Saviour everywhere, There I can sit, and sing, and weep, His grace in every state. And dwell on heavenly themes. After her release from the Bastile she was banished to the city of Blois. Fifteen years later, in 1717, she died in the Lord. The first of the following poems was written in prison, the second in banishment. It was translated by the poet Cowper. 36 G REA T H YMN W RITERS. A LITTLE bird I am, Shut from the fields of air ; And in my cage I sit and sing To Him who placed me there ; Well pleased a prisoner to be, Because, my God, it pleaseth Thee. Nought have I else to do ; I sing the whole day long ; And He whom most I love to please, Doth listen to my song ; He caught and bound my wandering wing, But still He bends to hear me sing. Thou hast an ear to hear, A heart to love and bless ; And, though my notes were e'er so rude, LITTLE BIRD. Thou wouldst not hear the less; Because Thou knowest, as they fall, That love, sweet love, inspires them all. My Cage confines me round, Abroad I cannot fly ; But though my wing is closely bound, My heart's at liberty. My prison walls cannot control The flight and freedom of the soul. () it is good to Soar, These bolts and bars above, To Him whose purpose I adore, Whose Providence I love ; And in Thy mighty will to find The joy and freedom of the mind. GOD EVERY WHERE. THOU by long experience tried, Near whom no grief can long abide ; My Love how full of sweet content I pass my years of banishment. All scenes alike engaging prove To souls impressed with sacred love ; Where'er they dwell they dwell in Thee, – In heaven, in earth, or on the sea. To me remain nor place nor time, My country is in every clime ; I can be calm and free from care On any shore, since God is there. While place we seek or place we shun, The soul finds happiness in none ; But with a God to guide our way, 'Tis equal joy to go or stay. Could I be cast where Thou art not, That were indeed a dreadful lot , But regions none remote I call, Secure of finding God in all. My country, Lord, art Thou alone, No other can I claim or own ; The point where all my wishes meet, My Law, my Love, life’s only sweet. I hold by nothing here below : Appoint my journey, and I go : Though pierced by scorn, oppressed by pride, I feel Thee good, - feel nought beside. No frowns of men can hurtful prove To souls on fire with heavenly love ; Though men and devils both condemn, No gloomy days arise for them. Ah then, to His embrace repair; My soul, thou art no stranger there ; There love divine shall be thy guard. | And peace and safety thy reward. JOSEPH FDDISON, Author of "The spacious firmament on high.” HIS TO RIC HYMNIST.S. 39 JOSEPH ADDISON, M.A. DDISON, the son of an English clergyman, was born in 1672. He was educated at Oxford, and soon after his graduation, elected a fellow of Magdalen College. He had an early reputation among his contemporaries for learning and ability. It was thought that he would enter the church ; but he turned his attention to politics, and rose through several public offices to be Secretary of State, a position which he was soon com- pelled to resign on account of ill-health. Addison's fame rests principally upon his essays in the “Tatler’’ and “Specta- tor.” It is quite possible that his reputation as a writer of hymns—though he wrote only five — may outlast his fame as an essayist. He died in 1719. His last hours were per- fectly serene. It is said that he sent for his son-in-law, the Earl of Warwick, to witness “in what peace a Christian can die.” (“Hymn Studies.”) The first selection is a grand ode, which appeared in the “Spectator’ is based upon the first part of the nineteenth Psalm, but it has all the merits of an y in 17 I 2. It original composition. The second is a very fine metrical rendering of the twenty-third Psalm. The longer poem appeared in the “Spectator,” August 9, 1712. THE HEAVENS DECLARE HIS GLORY. HE spacious firmament on high, While all the stars that round her burn, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, Their great Original proclaim : And spread the truth from pole to pole. The unwearied sun, from day to day, Does his Creator’s power display, What though in solemn silence all And publishes to every land Move round the dark terrestrial ball P The work of an almighty hand. What though no real voice nor sound Amid the radiant Orbs be found P Soon as the evening shades prevail, In reason's ear they all rejoice, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And utter forth a glorious voice ; And nightly, to the listening earth, Forever singing as they shine : Repeats the story of her birth ; The hand that made us is divine. }º c Ş & \ G REA T H YMN WRITE R.S. THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. HE Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye : My noonday walks He shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend. When in the sultry glebe I faint, Or on the thirsty mountain pant, To fertile vales and dewy meads, My weary, wandering steps He leads, Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, Amid the verdant landscape flow. Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious, lonely wilds I stray, Thy bounty shall my pains beguile; | The barren wilderness shall smile, With sudden greens and herbage crowned, And streams shall murmur all around. Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread, My steadfast heart shall fear no ill, For thou, O Lord, art with me still ; Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade. GOD’S MERCIES. WHEN all Thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul Surveys; Transported with the view, I’m lost In wonder, love, and praise. O how shall words with equal warmth The gratitude declare That glows within my ravished heart?— But Thou Canst read it there. Thy providence my life sustained And all my wants redrest, While in the silent womb I lay, And hung upon the breast. To all my weak complaints and cries Thy mercy lent an ear, Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt To form themselves in prayer. Unnumbered comforts to my soul Thy tender care bestowed, Before my infant heart conceived From whom those comforts flowed. When in the slippery paths of youth With heedless steps I ran, Thine arm unseen conveyed me safe, And led me up to man. Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, It gently cleared my way, And through the pleasing snares of vice, More to be feared than they. When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou With health renewed my face, And, when in sins and Sorrows sunk, Revived my soul with grace. Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss Has made my cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithful friend Has doubled all my store. Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy. Through every period of my life Thy goodness I’ll pursue ; And, after death, in distant worlds The glorious theme renew. When nature fails, and day and night Divide Thy works no more, My ever grateful heart, O Lord, Thy mercy shall adore. Through all eternity to Thee A joyful song I’ll raise, | For, oh eternity’s too short To utter all Thy praise. ISRRC WATTS, "The father of English hymnody.” HIS TO RIC H YM NIS T.S. 43 REW, ISAAC WATTS, D.D. HE beginning of the eighteenth century marks a distinct period in the history of hymnology. The apostle of the new departure was Doctor Isaac Watts. He may, indeed, be considered as the father of English hymnody, for he was the first to see the real need, and in large measure he succeeded in supplying it. Watts was born in 1674. He was a precocious child ; learned to read almost as soon as he could articulate, and wrote verses when a little boy. He was firmly attached to the principles of the Non-conformists, for which his father had suffered imprisonment, and was, therefore, compelled to decline the advantages of the great English universities, which at that time received only Church of England students. He availed himself, however, of the privilege of attending a dissenting academy in London, taught by Mr. Thomas Rowe, where he applied himself to study with uncommon diligence and success. During his school days it was his habit frequently to attempt poetry, both in English and in Latin, according to the custom of the time. In this manner he was unconsciously preparing himself for a long, brilliant, and uscful career. In 1705 he published his first volume of poems. “Horae Lyricae with approbation in Great Britain and America, and gave the author, in the opinion of } was received the learned Dr. Johnson, an honorable place among English poets. His “Hymns and Spiritual Songs ’’ appeared in 17 of ; “Psalms,” in 1719 ; and “Divine Songs for Children,” in 1720. One characteristic of Watts' hymns is majesty. He is bald, massive, tremendous. This was not his only style of writing; some of his hymns are very pathetic, for example, “When I survey the wondrous cross,” and “Alas! and did my Saviour bleed.” Grandeur was his forte, but he could be as simple as a child and as tender as a mother. The same hand that wrote “Wide as the world is Thy command, Vast as eternity Thy love,” also wrote the familiar little cradle-song, “Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, Holy angels guard thy bed.” Watts became pastor of an Independent church in London in 1702. He was so feeble that much of the time the work of the parish was done by an assistant, but he held the place nominally until his death, in 1748. Westminster—Abbey, that vast mausoleum of England's heroes, statesmen, poets, and saints, has been honored with a memorial of this great, good man. Underneath a bust of the poet, the artist has sculptured Watts sitting at a table writing, while behind and above him an angel is whispering heavenly thoughts. The design is artistic and very appropriate. 44 G REA T H YMN WRITERS. GOD EXALTED. TERNAL Power, whose high abode Becomes the grandeur of a God, Infinite lengths beyond the bounds Where stars revolve their little rounds ! The lowest step beneath Thy seat Rises too high for Gabriel’s feet; In vain the tall archangel tries To reach Thine height with wond'ring eyes. Thee while the first archangel sings, He hides his face behind his wings, And ranks of shining thrones around Fall worshipping, and spread the ground. Lord, what shall earth and ashes do? We would adore our Maker too ; From sin and dust to Thee we cry, The Great, the Holy, and the High. Earth, from afar, hath heard Thy fame, And worms have learned to lisp Thy name : But O ! the glories of Thy mind Leave all Our soaring thoughts behind. God is in heaven, and men below ; Be short our tunes, our words be few ; A solemn reverence checks our songs, And praise sits silent on Our tongues. THE CROSS OF CHRIST. WHEN I survey the wondrous cross On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride. Forbid it, ſlord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ, my God ; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood. See, from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down ; Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown 2 His dying crimson, like a robe, Spread o'er His body on the tree, Then I am dead to all the globe, ! And all the globe is dead to me. ; Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small ; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all. PSALM CXVII. ROM all that dwell below the skies, Let the Creator's praise arise ; Let the Redeemer's name be sung Through every land by every tongue. Eternal are thy mercies, Lord, Eternal truth attends Thy word, Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore Till suns shall rise and set no more. AGAINST IDLENESS. OW doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower How skilfully she builds her cell How neat she spreads the wax And labors hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labor or of skill I would be busy too, For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play, Let my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last. JOHN BYROM, Huthor of "Christians awake, salute the happy morn." HIS TO RIC H YMN IS T.S. 47 DR. JOHN BYROM, M.A., “ . . . . . OHN BYROM was as eccentric as his portrait, on the opposite page, appears. He was a native of Manchester, England, born in 169 I ; a graduate of Cambridge Uni- versity, receiving the degree of M.A. in 1716. On account of his attachment to the House of Stuart he found it convenient to sojourn in France for a time, where he studied medicine and took a physician's degree, but we do not hear of his ever practising this profession. While a student at Cambridge he learned shorthand, which he so improved as practically to produce a new system. In 1742, by Act of Parliament, and the decree of King George II., he secured for twenty-one years the sole right of publishing this method of shorthand which he had invented. Byrom taught the Wesleys shorthand, and was numbered among their sympathizers and friends. In his Journal of July 12, 1773, John Wesley wrote: “In my journey from Liverpool I read Dr. Byrom's poems. He has all the wit and humor of Dr. Swift, together with much more learning, a deep and strong understanding, and, above all, a serious vein of piety.” Byrom wrote poetry not for fame or money, but from a love of it. He died in 1763; but his poems were not published until 1773. His Jacobite lines illustrate his political preferences, and, at the same time, his native wit. God bless the king, I mean the faith's defender. God bless — no harm in blessing — the Pretender; But who Pretender is, or who is king, ºrk. A. As º • U v \; - God bless us all; that’s quite another thing. r v * e º ...T.'s The first selection is a translation from the French of Madame de Bourignon. *... — A HYMN TO JESUS. OME, Saviour Jesus from above, Where'er Thou leadest, I’ll pursue, Assist me with Thy heavenly grace ; Thro' all retirements or employs; | But to the world I’ll bid adieu, And all its vain, delusive joys. Withdraw my heart from worldly love, And for Thyself prepare the place. Lord, let Thy sacred presence fill, That way with humble speed I'll walk, And set my longing spirit free ; Wherein my Saviour's footsteps shine : That pants to have no other will, Nor will I hear, nor will I talk But night and day to think on Thee. Of any other love but Thine. 48 G REA T H YMN WRITERS. To Thee my longing heart aspires; Thee one may love, and Thee alone, To Thee I offer all my vows; With inward peace and holy bliss ; Keep me from false and vain desires, And when Thou tak'st us for Thy own, My God, my Saviour, and my Spouse ! Oh, what a happiness is this Henceforth, let no profane delight Nor heaven, nor earth do I desire, Divide this consecrated soul; Nor mysteries to be revealed ; Possess it Thou, who hast the right, 'Tis love that sets my heart on fire; As Lord and Master of the whole. Speak Thou the word, and I am healed. Wealth, honors, pleasures, or what else All other graces I resign ; This short-enduring world can give, Pleased to receive, pleased to restore : Tempt as they will, my heart repels, Grace is Thy gi/Z, it shall be mine To Thee alone resolved to live. The Giver only to adore. EPIGRAMS ON THE BLFSSEDNESS ( ) F DIVINE LOVE. ON THE FEUT)S BETWEEN HANTOEL ANI) AITH, Hope, and Love were ques- 13()N()NCINI. tioned what they thought | OME say, compared to Bononcini, Of future glory, which religion taught. That Mynheer Handel's but a Now, Faith beſieved it firmly to be true ; ninny ; And Hope expected so to find it, too ; Others aver, that he to Handel Love answered, smiling with a conscious Is scarcely fit to hold a candle. glow, Strange all this difference should be “Belieze / Expect / / / now iſ ſo be so.” 'Twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee. BRIEFLETS. TIME that is past thou never canst recall ; OR steel, nor flint alone produces fire, Of time to come thou art not sure at No spark arises till they both con- all ; spire; Time present only is within thy power, — Nor faith alone, nor work without, is right, Now, now improve, then, whilst thou can, Salvation rises when they both unite. the hour. - - - - - To be religious, something it will cost, Lºſ thy repentance be without delay. Some riches, honors, pleasures, will If thou defer it to another day be lost ; Thou must repent for a day more of sin, But if thou countest the sum total o'er, While a day less remains to do it in. i Not to be so will cost a great deal more. - PHILIP DODDRIDGE, Author of " Hark the glad sound, the Saviour comes." ſ “O happy day that fixed my choice ’ f l HIS TO RIC HYMNIS 7 S. 5 I REV. PHILIP DODDRIDGE, D.D. Doppºſpºr was born in London in 1702. He was brought up on Bible stories told by his pious mother, and never forgot those lessons of early childhood. He was educated in the best schools of the dissenters, and, in 1729, was placed at the head --~~ * -- ~~. ... . -- - of a school for the training of young men for the ministry. At the same time he was pastor of a church at Northampton. He succeeded in all he undertook as instructor, preacher, and author. Two of his books, “The Family Expositor ’’ and “The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul,” had a wide circulation, and have been very useful. Mr. IDoddridge was a noble man, highly cultured and truly pious. As a poet and hymn writer this author has not been adequately appreciated. His hymns stand two great tests, – utility and vitality. They are among the most useful in the language, and, though written a century and a half ago, they are still in common and popular use. They possess also much poetic merit, and are well worth careful study. IDr. Doddridge died of consumption in 175 i. “Grace, ’tis a charming sound,” has been very popular among the Calvinists. 2 is a great favor ith the Methodists. “Ye | ? ) golden lamps of heaven, farewell ” is grand, poetic, and scriptural. “Hark! the glad | 5 y sound, the Saviour comes ' " is his masterpiece, known and loved by all. 0 RACE. RACE 'tis a charming sound, Grace taught my wandering feet Harmonious to mine ear : To tread the heavenly road ; Heaven with the echo shall resound, And new supplies each hour I meet, And all the earth shall hear. While pressing on to God. Grace first contrived a way Grace all the work shall crown * To save rebellious man ; Through everlasting days; | And all the steps that grace display, It lays in heaven the topmost stone, . Which drew the wondrous plan. And well deserves the praise. 3. G RE 4 T H YMN WRITERS. i f : | HAPPY DAY. HAPPY day that fixed my choice On Thee, my Saviour and my God Well may this glowing heart rejoice, And tell its raptures all abroad. O happy bond that seals my vows To Him who merits all my love Let cheerful anthems fill His house, While to that sacred shrine I move. 'Tis done ; the great transaction's done : I am my Lord’s and He is mine : He drew-me-ãnd I followed on, Charmed to confess the voice divine. Now rest, my long-divided heart Fixed on this blissful centre, rest With ashes who would grudge to part, When called on angels' bread to feast. High Heaven, that heard the solemn vow, That vow renewed shall daily hear ; Till in life’s latest hour I bow, And bless in death a bond so dear. (OD THE EVERLASTING LIGHT. YE golden lamps of heaven, farewell With all your feeble light; Farewell, thou ever-changing moon, Pale empress of the night ! And thou, refulgent Orb of day, In brighter flames arrayed ; My soul, that Springs beyond thy sphere, No more demands thine aid. Ye stars are but the shining dust Of my divine abode, The pavement of those heavenly courts Where I shall reign with God. The Father of eternal light Shall there His beams display, Nor shall one moment’s darkness mix With that unvaried day. | No more the drops of piercing grief Shall swell into mine eyes, Nor the meridian sun decline Amidst those brighter skies. There all the millions of His saints Shall in one song unite, And each the bliss of all shall view With infinite delight. CHRIST’S MESSAGE, H ARK the glad sound, the Saviour comes The Saviour promised long ; Let every heart prepare a throne, And every voice a song. On Him the Spirit, largely poured, Exerts its sacred fire ; Wisdom, and might, and zeal, and iOve, His holy breast inspire. He comes the prisoners to release In Satan's bondage held ; The gates of brass before Him burst, The iron fetters yield. He comes from thickest films of vice, To clear the mental ray, And on the eye-balls of the blind To pour celestial day. He comes the broken heart to bind, The bleeding soul to cure, And with the treasures of His grace Tº enrich the humble poor. His silver trumpets publish loud The jub'lee of the Lord ; | Our debts are all remitted now, Our heritage restored. Our glad hosannas, Prince of Peace, Thy welcome shall proclaim ; And heaven's eternal arches ring With Thy beloved name. ſ | .* º ºf , e. . % % ºž% º: }}}}| . 4% º , a prºpº & ". $2 . - º 2" ę 22.222;º % % ºftº f %ØØ% % % Zºº gº // ğ//?/ 22, 2% % º % % % Ž% }%% /? / 2% ºft % % / % % A. º % º % & ſº % 2. º % %% % º: % 7.4%% ºft %%% - %%.”... ſº." Z. º * Aſ º % 2% % % A. % - % % %% 7%%% wº %iº łż º Ž% % % %% % % % % ºft % %. , % % § % %. 3% ſº, % % g º, y? %%% % % # %% % % % % % % d) OHN W E SLEY, Ruthor of “How happy is the pilgrim's lot.” HIS TO R J C H YM/VIS T.S. 55 REV. JOHN WESLEY, M.A. HE name of John Wesley is honored throughout the world. He was born in the rectory of Epworth, in 17 O3, and was piously instructed by his parents. In 17 14 he was placed at the Charter-house School, London, where he was a diligent and suc- cessful student. In 1720, when seventeen years old, he was removed to Christ Church, Oxford. Here he became an accomplished classical scholar. In 1725 he was ordained deacon, and in the following year was elected to a Fellowship in Lincoln College. He received the degree of Master of Arts in 1727, and in 1728 was ordained a priest in the Church of England. In 1729 a few students at Oxford banded together to attend the Sacrament regu- larly every week, and to observe the method of study proscribed by the University. This conduct brought upon them the sneers of their fellow-students, and the now honorable name of “Methodists.” This band was organized by Charles Wesley in the absence of his brother; but when John Wesley returned he became its acknowledged leader, and its membership soon increased. In 1735 John Wesley and his brother Charles came to Georgia, as ministers to the colonists and missionaries to the natives; but after nearly two years of unsatisfactory labor, returned to England. At this time Wesley knew not the power of experimental religion. He said : “I went to America to convert the Indians; but oh who shall con- vert me? Who is he that will deliver me from this evil heart of unbelief ?” He dated his spiritual life from May 24, 1738. For a long time he had been seeking rest of soul, and had been instructed in the way of faith by pious Moravians. On the evening of this day he attended a meeting in London, where one was reading Luther's preface to the Epistle to the Romans. “About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, / /c///ly / carſ strange/y way://zed', I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for Salvation ; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.” From this time, for fifty-three years, until his triumphant death, in 1791, he was a tireless laborer in the Master's vineyard. He was the first man who had the holy l _audaeity—to say, “The world is my parish He was an aftosſ/e extraordinar ', raised up of God to head the Reformation of the eighteenth century, as was Martin Luther that of the sixteenth. (“Hymn Studies.”) John Wesley deserves a place among hymnists, if for no other reason, for *— translations of German hymns, of which there are thirty-two. We give a specimen of ! these translations, and also his poem entitled *The Pilgrim,” which is undoubtedly auto- biographic. 2 ) e 56 G REA T H YMN WRITERS. THE BELIEVER'S SUPPORT. THOU, to whose all-searching sight When rising floods my soul o'erflow, The darkness shineth as the light, When sinks my heart in waves of woe, Search, prove my heart, it pants for Thee ; Jesus, Thy timely aid impart, () burst these bonds, and set it free And raise my head and cheer my heart. Wash out its stains, refine its dross, Saviour, where'er Thy steps I see, Nail my affections to the cross; Dauntless, untired, I follow Thee ; Hallow each thought ; let all within () let Thy hand support me still, Be clean, as Thou, my Lord, art clean. And lead me to Thy holy hill ! If in this darksome wild I stray, If rough and thorny be the way, Be Thou my light, be Thou my way; My strength proportion to my day; No foes, no violence I fear, Till toil, and grief, and pain shall cease, No fraud, while Thou, my God, art near. Where all is calm, and joy, and peace. THE PILGRIM. | [OW happy is the pilgrim's lot, Better than daughters, or than sons, How free from every anxious thought, Temples divine of living stones From worldly hope and fear ! Inscribed with Jesus' name. Confined to neither court nor cell, His soul disdains on earth to dwell, He only sojourns here. No foot of land do I possess, No cottage in this wilderness; A poor wayfaring man, This happiness in part is mine, I lodge awhile in tents below, Already saved from low design, Or gladly wander to and fro, From every creature-love ; Till I my Canaan gain. Blest with the scorn of finite good, My soul is lightened of its load, And seeks the things above. Nothing on earth I call my own, A stranger, to the world unknown, I all their goods despise ; The things eternal I pursue, I trample on their whole delight, A happiness beyond the view And seek a country Out of sight, — Of those that basely pant A country in the skies. For things by nature felt and seen ; Their honors, wealth, and pleasures mean, I neither have nor want. There is my house and portion fair; My treasure and my heart are there, And my abiding home ; I have no sharer of my heart, For me my elder brethren stay, To rob my Saviour of a part, And angels beckon me away, And desecrate the whole ; And Jesus bids me come. Only betrothed to Christ am I, And wait His coming from the sky, To wed my happy soul. “I come,” Thy servant, Lord, replies, “I come to meet Thee in the skies, And claim my heavenly rest. I have no babes to hold me here, Now let the pilgrim's journey end ; But children more securely dear Now, O my Saviour, Brother, Friend, For mine I humbly claim ; - Receive me to thy breast !” …ae§§ ſąē§§ % ∞ | } §§§ se a：№2：2 ĒĢģ，êº №º！！！-- z, LRDY HUNTING DON, “When Thou, my righteous Judge, shalt come.” Ruthor of HIS TO RIC HYMNISTS'. 59 SELINA, COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON. ADY SELINA SHIRLEY, the daughter of Washington, the second Earl Ferrers, was born in 17 o'7. She was serious as a child and habitually prayerful. In 1728 she married Earl Huntingdon. The earl and countess lived very happily together until the death of the former, in 1746. A sister of Lady Huntingdon attended some of the preaching services of the Methodists out of curiosity. She became awakened, and converted, and was the means of the awakening of Lady Huntingdon, who, after great distress of Soul, and long Seeking, found peace in believing. She was one of the first, if not the very first, of the nobility to acknowledge the name of “Methodist.” She attended the meetings at Fetter Lane, and became a member of the first Methodist Society. In 1744 Lady Huntingdon was afflicted by the death of two sons, and two years later-lost her noble husband. This threefold affliction she bore with Christian fortitude, and, instead of giving way to unavailing grief, consecrated herself anew to Christ and His service. About 1748 Whitefield and the Wesleys disagreed upon the doctrines of election and reprobation, and Lady Huntingdon, while she fellowshipped all zealous Christians, became the patroness and co-laborer of those who were of the Calvinistic faith. In 1748 she appointed Whitefield one of her chaplains. This date may mark the beginning of what was called the “Lady Huntingdon Connection.” Her house was a Bethel, and she was a lady bishop, directing a large and growing work. Her zeal was genuine ; in 1760 she solingfiewels, having no other available means, and with the pro- ceeds built a chapel at Brighton. In her charitable and gospel work she expended one hundred thousand pounds, about half a million dollars. This use of money, however, was the least of her gifts: she gavetime, thought, labor, her reputation, and her life, for the good of others. On the sixty-first anniversary of her birth, 1768, Lady Huntingdon opened Tre- vecca House, in South Wales, as a School of Prophets. Rev. George Whitefield preached the dedication sermon. The saintly Fletcher, of Madely, was the first president. Here she supported and educated young men to teach and preach in the chapels that she built among the needy. Her ambition was to do good. Toplady, the author of “Rock of Ages,” said she was the “most precious saint of God " he everknew. King George said, “I wish there were a Lady Huntingdon in every diocese in England.” We do not claim that she was a perfect character: she had her weaknesses and prejudices, for she was human, but she was a Christian notwithstanding. A striking illus- tration of her Christian spirit is seen in the fact that when, in 1752, Mrs. Charles Wesley was taken ill, at Bristol, with the small-pox, Lady Huntingdon went from Bath and tºº. 6O G REA T H YMN W R J TER S. attended her personally until she was out of danger. Most people would have been contented to remain away, or to hire some one to assume the care and risk. We naturally expect that the sunset of a Christian life will be beautiful, with a bright prophecy of a fair to-morrow. In her last illness Lady Huntingdon could say, “All the little ruffles and difficulties which surround me, and all the pains I am exercised with, in this poor body, through mercy, affect not the settled peace and joy of my soul.” Almost her last words were, “My work is done; I have nothing to do but to go to my Father.” She died, June 17, 1791, at the age of eighty-three. The following hymn appeared in one of the early editions of Lady Huntingdon's Collection of Hymns. The authorship has been doubted by some hymnologists, but it will continue in her name unless positive proof to the contrary is presented. The text is from Rippon's Selection, 1787. THE JUDGMENT DAY. HEN Thou, my righteous Judge, shalt come To fetch Thy ransomed people home, Shall I among them stand? Shall such a worthless worm as I, Who sometimes am afraid to die, Be found at Thy right hand? I love to meet among them now, Before Thy gracious feet to bow, Though vilest of them all; But can I bear the piercing thought: # What if my name should be left out, º When Thou for them shalt call? Prevent, prevent it by Thy grace; Be Thou, dear Lord, my hiding-place, In this the accepted day: Thy pardoning voice, () let me hear, To still my unbelieving fear, Nor let me fall, I pray. Let me among Thy saints be found, Whene'er the archangel's trump shall sound, To see Thy smiling face; Then loudest of the crowdTil sing, While heaven’s resounding mansions ring With shouts of sovereign grace. CHRRLES WESLEY, “The poet of Methodism.” : ſ- .* - HIS TO RIC HYMNIS T.S. 63 *º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º: *-* - ?--- ~ ------ - - - - - - - --- - - - - REV. CHARLES WESLEY, M.A. & 4 THE poet of Methodism” is too—narrow a designation for this author: he might properly be called the poet of Christendom, for the Christian world is vastly indebted to Charles Wesley for many of its most valuable hymns. For the first place among English hymnists he has never had but one competitor. Hymnologists have Sometimes instituted a comparison between the hymns of Wesley and those of Watts. --s-s-rº-" | Some have given the preference to one, and some to the other. We must remember that these men were not rivals. They were too good, too great, and too unlike, to be antagonists. They were both Drinces, aye, kings of song, but each in his own realm. Watts' great theme was divine majesty, and no one approaches him in excellence upon this subject. Wesley's grandest theme was ſove, the Töve of God, and here he had no. * * * * * . . . . . rival. Charles Wesley was born in Epworth, England, December 18, 17 o'7. He was edu- cated at Westminster School and Oxford University. It was while a student at Christ Church College that Wesley and a few associates, by strict attention to duty and exemplary conduct, won for themselves the derisive epithet of “Methodists.” He was ordained a priest in the Church of England in 1735, but was not converted, according to his own statement, until Whitsunday, May 21, 1738. He wrote: “The Spirit of God strove with my own and the evil spirit, till by degrees He chased away the darkness of my unbelief.” He tells his own experience beautifully in the hymn beginning, ſ N “And can it be that I should gain \ An interest in the Saviour's blood.” _-- Charles Wesley's hymns may be generally classified as follows: Hymns of Christian experience, “O for a thousand tongues to sing,” is an example ; invitation is a good specimen; sanctification ; hymns, of which “Come, sinners, to the gospel feast,' hymns, “O for a heart to praise my God,” is one of them ; funeral hymns, “Rejoice for a brother deceased ; ” and hymns on the love of God, a subject on which he never became - - - - - - - - - - . … ... ...r----- ~~ ~~~~- weary. “Wrestling Jacob’ represents the last class, and as we give it unaltered and entire, it is the only selection for which we have room. -- . ---*. \ i - 64 WRITE R.S. G REA T H YMN WRESTLING JACOB. OME, O thou Traveller unknown, Whom still I hold, but cannot see : My company before is gone, And I am left alone with Thee : With Thee all night I mean to stay, And wrestle till the break of day. I need not tell Thee who I am, My sin and misery declare ; Thyself hast called me by my name, Look On Thy hands, and read it there : But who, I ask Thee, who art Thou? Tell me Thy name, and tell me now. In vain thou strugglest to get free, I never will unloose my hold : Art Thou the Man that died for me P The secret of Thy love unfold : Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. Wilt Thou not yet to me reveal Thy new, unutterable name 2 Tell me, I still beseech Thee, tell; To know it now resolved I am : Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. 'Tis all in vain to hold Thy tongue, Or touch the hollow of my thigh , Though every sinew be unstrung Out of my arms Thou shalt not fly : Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. What though my shrinking flesh complain, And murmur to contend so long? I rise Superior to my pain ; When I am weak, then I am strong; And when my all of strength shall fail, I shall with the God-man prevail. My strength is gone, my nature dies, I sink beneath Thy weighty hand, Faint to revive, and fall to rise ; I fall, and yet by faith I stand : I stand, and will not let Thee go, Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. S !- }* Yield to me now, for I am weak, But confident in self-despair; Speak to my heart, in blessing speak, Be conquered by my instant prayer : Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move, And tell me if Thy name be Love? 'Tis Love ’tis Love | Thou diedst for me ! I hear Thy whisper in my heart; The morning breaks, the shadows flee ; Pure, universal love Thou art : To me, to all, Thy bowels move ; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. My prayer hath power with God; the grace Unspeakable I now receive : Through faith I see Thee face to face, I see Thee face to face, and live In vain I have not wept and strove ; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. I know Thee, Saviour, who Thou art, Jesus, the feeble sinner's Friend; Nor wilt Thou with the night depart, But stay and love me to the end : Thy mercies never shall remove ; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. The Sun of righteousness on me Hath risen with healing in His wings; Withered my nature's strength, from Thee My soul its life and succor brings: My help is all laid up above ; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. Contented now, upon my thigh I halt, till life’s short journey end ; All helplessness, all weakness, I On Thee alone for strength depend, Nor have I power from Thee to move ; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. Lame as I am, I take the prey; Hell, earth, and sin, with ease O'ercome ; I leap for joy, pursue my way, And as a bounding hart fly home, Through all eternity to prove Thy nature and Thy name is Love. JOHN CENNICK. Author of "Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb." HIS TO RIC HYMNIS T.S. 67 REW. JOHN CENNICK. T affords us great pleasure to be able to give a portrait of the author of “Thou dear } ) Redeemer, dying Lamb,” “Children of the heavenly King,” and other valuable hymns. Cennick was born at Reading, England, in 17 18. In early life he attended the services of the Church of England, of which his parents were members. Afterwards he broke away from the restraints of home, and for three or four years was a lover of sinful amusements. When about seventeen years old he became deeply distressed on account of his sins, and after two years of seeking found the way of peace in believing. He described his long seeking and joyous finding in the hymn beginning “Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone.” Soon after his conversion he became acquainted with the Wesleys, and in 1739 took charge of their school at Kingswood. Within two years he accepted the doctrines of Calvinism, and because he would teach and preach contrary to the views of the Wes- leys, he was dismissed. For a few years he labored with great success as an evangelist in connection with Whitefield, but in 1745 united with the Moravians, and labored with zeal, mostly in the north of Ireland, until his early and lamented death, in 1755. His biographer, Rev. Matthew Wilks, said : “He possessed a sweet simplicity of spirit, with ſ an ardent zeal in the cause of his Divine Master. . . . Unaffected humility, dead- | ness to the world, a life of communion with God, and a cheerful reliance on a crucified. Saviour, characterized the man.” The valuable hymns mentioned above can be found in almost any collection. The selections here given are less familiar. I LOVE THE LORD. LOVE the Lord who died for me ; I love His tears and sufferings great ; I love His grace divine and free : I love His precious bloody sweat ; I love the Scriptures, there I read, I love His blood, was not that spilt, Christ lovèd me, and for me bled. I could not have been freed from guilt. G8 G REA T H YMN W/ R.I.T.E.R.S. I love to hear that He was slain ; I love His every grief and pain ; I love to contemplate by faith Upon His meritorious death. I love Mount Calvary, where His love Stronger than death itself did prove ; I love to walk His dolorous way; I love the grave where Jesus lay. I love His people and their ways, I love with them to pray and praise ; I love the Father and the Son, ſ I love the Spirit He sent down. I love to think the time will come When I shall be with Him at home, And praise Him in eternity : Then shall my love completed be. TE DEUM. sing to Thee, Thou Son of God, Who saved us by Thy grace; WE We praise Thee, Son of man, whose bloº. Redeemed our fallen race. We Thee acknowledge, God and Lord, Father ere time began ; Thou art by heaven and earth adored, Worthy o'er both to reign. To Thee all angels cry aloud, Through heaven's extended coasts ; Hail, holy, holy, holy God, Of all immortal hosts The cherubim and seraphim Continual sing to Thee ; The worlds, and all the powers therein, Adore Thy majesty, The prophets, goodly fellowship, In milky garments drest, Praise Thee, Thou holy God, and reap The fulness of Thy rest. The apostles' glorious company Thy righteous praise proclaim ; The martyred army glorify Thy everlasting name. Through all the world Thy churches join To acknowledge Thee the head; Father of majesty divine, Who every power hast made. Also Thy true and only Son Thy family confess; King Of Thy saints, in us made known, The Lord our righteousness. Also the Holy Ghost we praise, The Spirit of the Lord ; The Comforter, whose kindling rays Our dying souls restored. Thou, Jesus, didst not once abhor The virgin Mary's womb : But took'st her flesh, and then in power IDidst death and sin o'ercome. The kingdom then Thou openedst wide, For all who should believe ; Thy wounds were doors; Thy hands, feet, side To sinners entrance give. Among their number we presume, Saved by Thy precious blood : Reign here, and in the world to come, O everlasting God . SHMUEL DHVIES, Ruthor of "Lord, I am Thine, entirely. Thine.” HIS TO RIC HYMNIS T.S. 7I REW. SAMUEL DAVIES, A.M. MR. DAVIES was a Presbyterian minister. He was born-i ate of Delaware, . . November 3, 1723. His mother, a superior woman, named him Samuel, because, like the prophet of old, he was a child of prayer. He became a Christian in early life, and, no doubt in answer to the prayers of his pious mother, looked forward to a career of usefulness in the gospel ministry. Educational advantages in America at that early day were not as good as at the present time, but Mr. Davies spent five years in the school of the Rev. Samuel Blair, which was designed especially to prepare for the ministry. In 1747 he was ordained as an evangelist. His field of labor was mostly in Virginia, though he preached in Delaware, Maryland, and Pennsylvania. He visited England in 1753, at the request of the trustees of Princeton College, to raise money for that institution. He was a patriotic citizen as well as a clergyman. During the French and Indian war his sermons and addresses encouraged many volunteers to enlist in the | Service of the country. Mr. Davies prepared his sermons with great care, saying on one ſ Occasion, “It is a dreadful thing to talk nonsense in the name of the Lord.” He was chosen president of Princeton in 1759, as the successor of Jonathan Edwards. For many years he had been inclined to consumption, the change from the | work of the ministry, which required long journeys on horseback, to the comparatively i sedentary work of the presidency, was not favorable to his health, and he died February 4, 1761, having served in his office only eighteen-months. The sermons of Mr. Davies were prepared for the press by Rev. Thomas Gibbons, of London. They have passed | * through many editions, and are read with profit to this day. The hymns given below are very fine. We are indebted to Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, & Co., publishers of “The Princeton Book,” for the portrait of Mr. Davies. A SACRAMENTAL HYMN. LORD I am Thine, entirely Thine, Purchased and saved by blood divine ; With full consent Thine I would be, And Own Thy sovereign right in me. Here, Lord, my flesh, my soul, my all, I yield to Thee beyond recall; Accept Thine own so long withheld, Accept what I so freely yield. Grant one poor sinner more a place Among the children of Thy grace, — A wretched sinner lost to God, But ransomed by Immanuel's blood. 72 G R E A T H YMN WRITERS. Thine would I live, Thine would I die, Be Thine through all eternity ; The vow is past beyond repeal, Now will I set the solemn seal. Be Thou the witness of my vow, Angels and men attest it too, That to Thy board I now repair, And seal the sacred contract there. THE UNIVERSAL CALL I ARK from the skies the great com- mand Sounds through the earth abroad : Repent, ye sons of men, repent, Return unto your God The times of ignorance are past, The gospel day now shines; The sovereign Judge no more O'erlooks, But marks down all your crimes. Sinners on thrones, in cottages, All on this guilty ball, Whate'er you are, where'er you be, This charge includes you all. Here, at that cross where flows the blood That bought my guilty soul for God, Thee my new Master now I call, And consecrate to Thee my all. Do Thou assist a feeble worm The great engagement to perform ; Thy grace can full assistance lend, And on that grace I dare depend. OF GOD TO REPENTANCE. Come thousands, then, come all mankind, Fall at your Sovereign's feet; With broken hearts, and weeping eyes, Approach the mercy seat. There sits the sin-forgiving God, And spreads His arms to all ; There His free pardons deals abroad To each who hears His call. There, Lord, with crowds of penitents, Would we appear and mourn; () draw us by Thy powerful grace, And then shall we return. THE GLORIES OF GOD. REAT God of wonders all Thy ways Are matchless, godlike, and divine : But the fair glories of Thy grace More godlike and unrivalled shine. A'e/rain. Who is a pardoning God like Thee? Or who has grace so rich and free ? Crimes of such horror to forgive, Such guilty, daring worms to spare, This is Thy grand prerogative, And none shall in the honor share. A'e/rain. Angels and men resign your claim To pity, mercy, love, and grace ; These glories crown Jehovah's name With an incomparable blaze. A'e/zain. In wonder lost, with trembling joy, We take the pardon of our God, - Pardon for crimes of deepest dye, A pardon bought with Jesus' blood. Afrain. O may this strange, this matchless grace, This godlike miracle of love, Fill the wide earth with grateful praise, And all the angelic hosts above Refrain. Jo Jountſ "MeeGº daunour up nodun Alejos NOLM. H. N. NHOſº Till a new object struck my sight HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. 75 REW. JOHN NEWTON. HIS author has given us many useful hymns and a few of special value. Newton was born in London in 1725; his pious mother died when he was only seven years old. He followed a seafaring life for twenty years, serving in various positions, from cabin-boy to captain. Newton became very profane and wicked, but could not all at once forget the early instructions of his mother. He said, “I took up and laid aside a religious profession three or four different times before I was sixteen years old.” Subse- quently he became an infidel, and desperately wicked, according to his own statement. A long and violent storm at sea in 1748 was the IIleans of his conversion. In 1755 he was appointed tide-surveyor at the port of Liverpool, - a position afford- ing much leisure, which was improved in study. He became a zealous lay worker. A curacy being offered him, he applied to the Bishop of York for orders, but was gently refused because of his age — being then thirty-three and irregular education. In 1764 he obtained the curacy of Olney, and was ordained by the Bishop of Lincoln. After sixteen years of labor at Olney, he became rector of St. Mary Woolnoth, London, where he remained until his death, in 1807. In 1790 Princeton College gave him the degree of D.D., which he saw fit to decline, saying, “It would be both vain and improper were I to concur in it.” Newton entered the ministry late in life : he was forty when ordained a priest, and his early education was very defective ; but he was a diligent student of books and of men, and being able to labor until he reached fourscore, he accomplished more than many who had enjoyed far greater advantages. Newton was an acknowledged leader of the Evan- gelical school of the Church of England, a pious, affectionate, and practical man. Among the most valuable and familiar of his hymns are the following : “Come, y y my soul, thy suit prepare ;” “Safely through another week;” “How sweet the name of Jesus sounds !” and “Glorious things of Thee are spoken.” The first of the selections given below is evidently autobiographic. LOOKING AT THE CROSS. N evil long I took delight, Sure never till my latest breath Unawed by shame or fear, Can I forget that look ; It seemed to charge me with His death, Though not a word He spoke. And stopped my wild career. I saw One hanging on a tree, My conscience felt and owned the guilt, In agonies and blood, And plunged me—in-despair; Who fixed His languid eyes on me, / I saw my sins His blood had spilt, As near His cross I stood. And helped to nail Him there. \ 76 G R E A T H YMN M/RITE R.S. Alas! I knew not what I did ; But now my tears are vain ; Where shall my trembling soul be hid P For I the Lord have slain. A second look He gave which said, “I freely all forgive, This blood is for thy ransom paid, I die that thou mayest live.” With pleasing grief and motirmfüTjoy Thus while His death my sin displays In all its blackest hue ; Such is the mystery of grace, It seals my pardon, too. ,----------- , My spirit now is filled, That I should such a life destroy, Yet live by Him I killed. JESUS MY ALL. HY should I fear the darkest hour, Jesus vouchsafes to be my tower. Though hot the fight, why quit the field, Why must I either flee or yield, Since Jesus is my mighty shield P When creature comforts fade and die, Worldlings may weep, but why should I? Jesus still lives, and still is nigh. Though all the flocks and herds were dead, My soul a famine need not dread, For Jesus is my living bread. AMAZING MAZING grace sound !) That saved a wretch like me ! I once was lost, but now am found, Was blind, but now I see. (how sweet the 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears relieved ; How precious did that grace appear The hour I first believed Through many dangers, toils, and snares I have already come ; 'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home. I know not what may soon betide, Or tremble at the tempter's power 2 Or how my wants shall be supplied ; But Jesus knows, and will provide. Though sin would fill me with distress, The throne of grace I dare address, For Jesus is my righteousness. Though faint my prayers, and cold my love, My steadfast hope shall not remove While Jesus intercedes above. Against me earth and hell combine, But on my side is power divine ; Jesus is all, and He is mine. GRACE. The Lord has promised good to me, His word my hope secures; He will my shield and portion be As long as life endures. Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail, And mortal life shall cease, I shall possess, within the veil, A life of joy and peace. The earth shall soon dissolve like snow, The sun forbear to shine ; But God, who called me here below, Will be forever mine. ( \, \ | 'S ! ! º § §§. -**-cº 2.SS ~~~ % % |}}} º 2. M % º É ! ſ “a gº gº & %%| 23. º % | | | % /, ſº ºft||||/|\"" A % º | | % W. '/ THOMPAS OLIVERS, Huthor of “The God of Abrahim praise,” ºs--- - - - - . ... → *.* - \ A Yº N-te. VF -º-º/-o ºr {* . ! { *Pº tº ºs---ºs jokic HYMNIsrs. * & } Cz J 2/ // f REW. THOMAS OLIVERS. is with great pleasure that we present a satisfactory portrait of this remarkable man. IT I)istant relatives brought him up in an indifferent many: Olivers was born in-Tregoman, Wales, in 1725. Early in life he was left an orphan. He was sent to school for a time, and his religious education was not altogether neglected. As he grew older he became very profane, and at length ran away from his/master, a shoemaker, to whom he l was apprenticed. The drinking vagabond, for such hē was, in his wicked career arrived - in Bristol, where Whitefield had an appointment to preach. Olivers went to hear him, and was converted. “When the sermon began,” he says, “I was one of the most abandoned and profligate young men living; before it was ended, I was a new creature.” From that time onward he lived a new life, joined the Methodists, and in 1753 became one of Wesley's itinerant preachers. Clear, strong, and sometimes fiery, he was * the man for the times, and for forty-six years made full proof of his ministry. Studies.”) -- - Olivers wrote only a few hymn s, buy those few are of a high Order. His master- piece is “The God of Abrah'm praise.” James Montgomery said of it, “There is not | in our language a lyric Of more majestic style, more elaborate thought, or more glorious imagery.” The Rev. John Julian, editor-in-chief of the “ IDictionary of Hymnology,” regards this as extravagant praise, and claims...that the poem was “built up from the f metrical form of the Hebrew Creed.” . c. * * In reply, it is only necessary to say that the or Hebrew creed, contains only twenty-six short lines, the poem of Olivers Yºrº, andſ the resentſ. Trce--between them is very “Hymn Studies” says of this lyric : “The theme is the grandest possible, and ſ j faint. * the execution is in keeping with it. The author begins in a daring strain, and he never # ~~) , g & $ º f * /flags, but from line to line, and from stanza to stanza, he sings and soars, and soars and * sings of God and heaven like one inspired.” THE GOD OF ABRAHAM. t A \ f -- --~~~~. . * - f \,^{ (“ Hymn ; w ſ HE God of Abrah’m praise, Who reigns enthroned above ; Ancient of everlasting days, And God of love ; Jehovah, great I AM By earth and heaven confessed I bow and bless the sacred name, Forever blessed. The God of Abrah’m praise, At whose Supreme command From earth I rise, and seek the joys At His right hand : I all on earth forsake, Its wisdom, fame, and power, And Him my only portion make, My shield and tower. *~, . ; : - *N $-A * , º, . . . ~A 7 º' . § * > * ... *. º Y”. 'N, 8O G REA T H YMN WRITERS. The God of Abrah’m praise, Whose all-sufficient grace Shall guide me all my happy days, In all His ways: He calls a worm His friend He calls Himself my God And He shall save me to the end Through Jesus' blood. He by Himself hath sworn ; I on His oath depend ; I shall, on eagles' wings upborne, To heaven ascend : I shall behold His face, I shall His power adore, And sing the wonders of His grace For evermore. PART SECOND. Though nature's strength decay, And earth and hell withstand, To Canaan's bounds I urge my way At His command : The watery deep I pass, With Jesus in my view, And through the howling wilderness My way pursue. The goodly land I see, With peace and plenty blessed ; A land of sacred liberty And endless rest : There milk and honey flow, And oil and wine abound ; And trees of life forever grow, With mercy crowned. There dwells the Lord our King, The Lord our righteousness, Triumphant o'er the world and sin, The Prince Of Peace : On Sion's sacred height His kingdom still maintains, And glorious, with His saints in ight, Forever reigns. He keeps His own secure, He guards them by His side, Arrays in garments white and pure His spotless bride : With streams of sacred bliss, With groves of living joys, With all the fruits of paradise, He still supplies. PART THIRD. Before the great Three-One, They all exulting stand, And tell the wonders He hath (lone Through all their land. The listening spheres attend, And swell the growing fame, And sing, in songs which never end, The wondrous Name. The God who reigns on high The great archangels—sing; And “Holy, holy, holy,” cry, “Almighty King ! Who was, and is the same, And evermore shall be, Jehovah — Father — great I AM We worship Thee.” Before the Saviour's face The ransomed nations bow ; O'erwhelmed at His almighty grace Forever new : He shows His printSTO They kindle to a flame, And sound, through all the worlds above, The slaughtered Lamb. ove; The whole triumphant host Give thanks to God on high : Hail, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost They ever cry : Hail, Abrah’m's God and mine ! I join the heavenly lays; All might and majesty are Thine, And endless praise. §§ §§ Ł ſae §§ ſae №ſae §§ - --- SHMUEL STENNETT, On Jordan's stormy banks I stand." Huthor of HIS TO RIC HYMNIS T.S. 83 REV. SAMUEL STENNETT, D.D. This man, belonging to a race of eminent Baptist ministers, was born in England in 1727. He was well educated, and an early subject of converting grace. At the age of twenty he became his father's assistant in Little Wild Street, London, and upon the death of his father, in 1758, was chosen his successer, − a position which he held thirty-seven years, until his death, in 1795. ,” Rippon’s “Baptist Register ’’ says of him : “He was formed by nature and grace for the distinguished figure he afterward made. To the strength of natural faculties, vigor of imagination, and acuteness of judgment, of which he was possessed, he had added, from his earliest years, so close an attention to reflection and study, that there was scarcely a topic in science or literature, in religion, or even politics, but he seemed to have investigated.” He received the degree of D.D. from King's College, Aberdeen, in 1763. - - - . . . . . " In his last sickness Dr. Stennett prayed that God would give him an easy passage out of this life, and his request was granted. Some vinegar given him for a gargle re- minded him of the dying Saviour, and with deep emotion he quoted the words of sacred history: “And in His thirst they gave Him vinegar to drink.” Then he said, “What " He did and suffered are now my only support.” Dr. Stennett contributed thirty-nine hymns to “Rippon's Selection,” in 1787. Some of them are very familiar. “On Jordan's stormy banks I stand” ite; “Majestic sweetness sits enthroned "TS"very-hºppinºxpressed ; “‘'Tis finished, so the Saviour cried,” is a valuable Good Friday hymn. Those we give are equaily good, though less familiar. is a great favor- PROFESSION OF LOVE TO CHRIST. NI) have I, Christ, no love for Thee, And while I dwell upon the theme, No passion for Thy charms ? No sweet emotion feel? No wish my Saviour's face to see, And dwell within His arms P Such base ingratitude as this What heart but must detest Is there no spark of gratitude Sure Christ deserves the noblest place In this cold heart of mine, In every human breast. To Him whose generous bosom glowed With friendship all divine? A very wretch, Lord, I should prove Had I no love for Thee ; Can I pronounce His charming name, Rather than not my Saviour love, His acts of kindness tell; () may I cease to be 84 G REA T H YMN WRITER S. A SONG OF PRAISE TO GOD. O God the universal King Let all mankind their tribute bring ; All that have breath, your voices raise In Songs of never-ceasing praise. The spacious earth on which we tread, And wider heavens stretched o'er Our head, A large and solemn temple frame To celebrate its builder’s fame. Here the bright sun that rules the day, As through the sky he makes his way, To all the world proclaims aloud The boundless sovereignty of God. When from his courts the sun retires, And with the day his voice expires, The moon and stars adopt the song, And through the night the praise prolong. The listening earth with rapture hears The harmonious music of the spheres; And all her tribes the notes repeat, That God is wise, and good, and great. But man, endowed with nobler powers, His God in nobler strains adores; His is the gift to know the song, As well as sing with tuneful tongue. THE CONVERTED THIEF. S on the cross the Saviour hung, And wept, and bled, and died, He poured salvation on a wretch That languished at His side. His crimes, with inward grief and shame, The penitent confessed ; Then turned his dying eyes to Christ, And thus his prayer addressed : “Jesus, thou Son and heir of heaven, Thou spotless Lamb of God | I see Thee bathed in sweat and tears, And weltering in Thy blood. “Yet quickly, from these scenes of woe, In triumph Thou shalt rise, Burst through the gloomy shades of death, And shine above the skies. “Amid the glories of that world, 1)ear Saviour, think on me, And in the victories of Thy death I et me a sharer be.” His prayer the dying Jesus hears, And instantly replies, “To-day thy parting soul shall be With me in Paraclise.” THE PENITENT. ROSTRATE, dear Jesus, at Thy feet A guilty rebel lies; And upwards to Thy mercy-seat Presumes to lift his eyes. Oh, let not justice frown me hence Stay, stay the vengeful storm Forbid it that Omnipotence Should crush a feeble worm If tears of Sorrow would suffice To pay the debt I owe, Tears should from both my weeping eyes In ceaseless torrents flow. But no such sacrifice I plead To expiate my guilt ; No tears, but those which Thou hast shed ; No blood, but Thou hast spilt. Think of Thy sorrows, dearest Lord And all my sins forgive ; Justice will well approve the word That bids the sinner live. §º l z s X * * * §§§ Wººl; §§§ % * \\ \\ Sº, \º § |; sººn s % g | N x * * N 'N N !!! ;---- : --- *ſº | | | d {; k |N|| i SX . %i, | § i | § {\\? fººd ! N. f *. §§§ § * * * { } ) | | | \ ;i ºliº, º * % ſ : | s %% §& §§ §&-! \s -§sº N §§ 4. §º §§-. : s SNS | % % % % % ºfºº *ºº § Y'º'; §% ^, Sº§ ſe: % * % % àØ #S. § % 2. *: : 3 §§ § § gº º f É sº*s SS § :*:: | N e º; § | W { %| º | :22% º º % ºft|{}lſº §§ 㺠º §§ º %3}º º/ſºlº N 2. % # // % |}º - º g % % |ºš | º X SºśSS ºğ%. §§ *>} ºś%; §º §§% % º X §§§62% º §|%%% 3% §º f. ºft % §§§ º #&% ºº %; : %2 %2$ºść º/ ?/ ? -- ſº 22 f' . A. #ºft % . 2. ~ 2. % <-24 hi/% %;" £% % %\\"Aşº ºš Z, 23 % Ž 53-A,%2fº, ſº º ..º. - º % * º ºš º %2% % -23% sº ſº (ºft º ;1. - 4; º . WILLIRM COWPER, Huthor of “There is a fountain filled with blood.” - ad . . . The clouds ye so ****ch dre :-( ; ; f * . . gº with * * * * . .” - * * * **** ...# , HIS TO RIC H YMN IS T.S. 87 WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. OWPER was not only the most famous poet of his age, but subsequent generations are greatly indebted to him as the forerunner of a new school of poets, who have brought poetry back to nature. Cowper's “Task " made him famous, but he is better known to-day as the author of a few excellent hymns. He was an Englishman, born in 1731, and lived until 1800. His early life was irregular, to say the least. In boyhood, according to his autobiography, he was an adept at lying, and Soon learned to use profanity. Though piously brought up, and confirmed in the Church of England, he was little better than an infidel. He was naturally morbid and inclined to insanity. When about thirty years of age he began to suffer severely from the upbraidings of conscience and the conviction of the Holy Spirit. He felt that nothing but murder was wanting to fill up the measure of his iniquities. He attempted suicide several times, and failed apparently only from lack of physical courage. It was found necessary to send him to an asylum for the insane, where he remained about two years. It was there that he found Christ as a Physician for his spiritual, and in a measure for his mental, maladies. Soon after this experience he wrote one of his grandest hymns; the author's title was, “Praise for the Fountain Opened.” No doubt in this hymn Cowper gave his personal experience and testimony. “There is a fountain filled with blood, “The dying thief rejoiced to see Drawn from Immanuel's veins ; That fountain in his day; And sinners plunged beneath that flood And there have I, as vile as he, Lose all their guilty stains. Washed all my sins away.” “O for a closer walk with God ” is a genuine heart-song; “God moves in a mysterious way ” is a favorite with many. A great literary critic and author, the late James T. Fields, of Boston, said that to write such a hymn as that was “an achievement that an angel might envy.” In one of his hymns, entitled “Retirement,” he showed his love for solitude. “The calm retreat, the silent shade, With prayer and praise agree, And seem by Thy sweet bounty made For those who follow Thee.” He loved to commune with nature, and his sensitive soul found God in secret places. “There like the nightingale she pours Her solitary lays; Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise.” 88 G REA T H YMN WRITE R.S. The world has seen only one Cowper. His lot was a strange one : early an orphan, terrorized at School, unsuccessful in his profession (the law), disappointed in love, shut up with madmen, broken in health, he was an object of pity, and at the same time of envy, for he was that new Christian poet of whom he sang so sweetly : “”Twere new indeed to see a bard, all fire, Touched with a coal from Heaven, assume the lyre, And tell the world, still kindling as he sung, With more than mortal music on his tongue, That He who died below and reigns above Inspires the song, — and that His name is Love.” PEACE IN OMETIMES a light surprises The Christian while he sings; It is the Lord who rises With healing on His wings; When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again A season of clear Shining, To cheer it after rain. In holy contemplation, We sweetly then pursue The theme of God’s salvation, And find it ever new : Set free from present sorrow, We cheerfully can say, Let the unknown to-morrow Bring with it what it may. CRACE AND LMIGHTY King whose wondrous hand Supports the weight of sea and land, Whose grace is such a boundless store, No heart shall break that sighs for more. Thy providence supplies my food, And 'tis Thy blessing makes it good ; My soul is nourished by Thy word ; Let soul and body praise the Lord. My streams of outward comfort came From Him who built this earthly frame ; BELIEWING. It can bring with it nothing, But He will bear us through ; Who gives the lilies clothing, Will clothe His people, too : Beneath the spreading heavens No creature but is fed, And He who feeds the ravens Will give His children bread. Though vine nor fig-tree neither Their wonted fruit should bear, Though all the fields should wither, Nor flocks nor herds be there ; Yet God the same abiding, His praise shall tune my voice ; For while in Him confiding, I cannot but rejoice. PROVIDENCE. Whate’er I want His bounty gives, By whom my soul forever lives. Either His hand preserves from pain, Or, if I feel it, heals again ; From Satan's malice shields my breast, Or overrules it for the best. Forgive the song that falls so low Beneath the gratitude I owe ; It means Thy praise, however pool : An angel’s song can do no more. §§§§§§） §§， ！ & ſae THOMFS HRWEIS, Ruthor of “From the cross uplifted high." § w * % HIS TO RIC HYMNIST.S. 9I REW. THOMAS HAWEIS, M.D. HOMAS HAWEIS was born in Truro, England, in 1732. He was inclined to be gay and worldly, but early in life became a subject of divine grace, and throughout his long and useful career he was identified with the evangelical party in the Church of England. He studied medicine and took the degree of M.D., but gave up this honorable profession for the higher calling of a minister of Christ. He was a graduate of Oxford University, and in 1772 received the degree of LL.B. from Cambridge. In 1757 he became curate of St. Mary Magdalen Church, Oxford. His zeal and devotion secured a large attendance, and many students and other persons became experimentally pious; but his fervor in preaching offended some people : he was called a “Methodist,” and soon deprived of his curacy by the then Bishop of Oxford. He became rector of All-Saints, Aldwinkle, in 1764, a position which he held fifty-six years, until his death, in 1820. Dr. Haweis was a gentleman. testimony that he pleased God. 3y birth, education, and by the grace of God, He was a friend, and One of the chaplains, of Lady || Huntingdon, and One of the founders of the London Missionary Society. * He was the author of several prose works, now forgotten, and wrote a book of hymns, entitled “Carmina Christo; or, Hymns to the Saviour.” The first edition, 1792, contained only one hundred and thirty-nine hymns. It was enlarged in 1808. The selections that follow are well worthy of close study. COME AND Fº the cross uplifted high, Where the Saviour deigns to die, What melodious sounds I hear 3ursting on my ravished ear : Love's redeeming work is done, Come and welcome, sinner, come. Sprinkled now with blood the throne, Why beneath thy burdens groan P On my pierced body laid, Justice Owns the ransom paid. Bow the knee and kiss the Son, Come and welcome, sinner, come. WELCOME. Spread for thee the festal board, See with richest dainties stored ; To thy Father's bosom pressed, Yet again a child confessed, Never from His house to roam, Come and welcome, sinner, come. Soon the days of life shall end, LO, I come, your Saviour, Friend, Safe your spirits to convey To the realms of endless day. Up to my eternal home, Come and welcome, sinner, come. * His liberality | and fellowship with dissenters displeased some of his High Church friends, but he had the Î 92 G R EA T H YMN WRITERS. REMEMBER ME. THOU from whom all goodness flows, Distressed with pain, disease, and grief, I lift my heart to Thee ; | This feeble body see. In all my sorrows, conflicts, woes, Grant patience, rest, and kind relief, Dear Lord, remember me. Hear ! and remember me. When groaning on my burdened heart, | If on my face, for Thy dear name, My sins lie heavily ; Shame and reproaches be : My pardon speak, new peace impart, All hail reproach, and welcome shame, In love remember me. If Thou remember me. Temptations sore obstruct my way, The hour is near, consigned to death, And ills I cannot flee : I own the just decree O give me strength, Lord, as my day, Saviour, with my last parting breath For good remember me. I’ll cry, Remember me. TELLING OF HIS SALVATION. O Thee, my God and Saviour, My voice in supplication, My heart exulting sings, Well pleased Thou shalt hear, Rejoicing in Thy favor, () grant me Thy Salvation, Almighty King of kings. And to my soul draw near ! I’ll celebrate Thy glory r I v g With all Thy saints above, By Thee, through life supported, And tell the joyful story I pass the dangerous road, Of Thy redeeming love. \\ ith heavenly hosts escorted, Up to their bright abode. Soon as the morn with roses | There cast my crown before Thee, Bedecks the dewy east, | Now all my conflicts o'er, And when the sun reposes And day and night adore Thee ; Upon the Ocean's breast, What can an angel more ? DAY OF PENTECOST. NTHRONED on high, almighty Lord, Quicken our souls, born from above, The Holy Ghost send down ; In Christ, that we may live. Fulfil in us Thy faithful word, And all Thy mercies crown. To our benighted minds reveal The glories of His grace, Though on Our heads no tongues of fire And bring us where no clouds conceal Their wondrous powers impart, The brightness of His face. Grant, Saviour, what we more desire, — Thy Spirit in our heart. His love within us shed abroad, Life's ever-springing well ; Spirit of life, and light, and love, Till (iod in us, and we in God, Thy heavenly influence give ; : In love eternal dwell. SHMUEL MEDLEY, Huthor of “O could I speak the matchless worth.” § f& f # # * -. HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. 95 REW. SAMUEL MEDLEY. This hymn-writer was born in Cheshunt, England, in 1738. He was brought up piously, and enjoyed good educational advantages in boyhood. In 1755 he enlisted in the Royal Navy as a midshipman. Active and ambitious, he became a favorite with officers and men, and was made master's mate. His position was not favorable to piety, and he became very profane and wicked. In a severe engagement with the French fleet off Cape Lagos, in 1759, he was dangerously wounded. His trouble led him to remember the God of his youth, and he prayed earnestly that his life might be spared. When the fleet was ordered home, young Medley was taken to his grandfather, then residing in London. Here he came again under religious influences, and was compelled to listen to faithful admonitions and solemn warnings. One of Dr. Watts' sermons, read to him on a Sabbath evening by his pious grandfather, was the means of his spiritual awakening, and soon after he joined a Baptist church in London. On recovering from his wound he engaged in study and teaching. In 1767 he accepted a call to preach in Watford, and five years later was settled in Liverpool, where he remained until his death, in 1799. Medley was very successful in the ministry, and a large new chapel was built for him in 1789. His hymns, two hundred and—thirty-m-mmber;-were collected and published in 1800. Some of them had already been in use for years. “O what amazing words of grace ” appeared in Toplady's Collection in 1776. “O could I speak the matchless worth ” is certainly one of the finest hymns in the language. Tº --~~~3****** ***s-rº-'. ... as ,-> ...--z. -- **** MAKE HIS PRAISE GLORIOUS. OT of terrestrial mortal themes, I’d soar and touch the heavenly strings, Not of the world's delusive dreams, And vie with Gabriel while he sings My soul attempts to sing ; In notes almost divine. But of that theme divinely true, Ever delightful, ever new, My Jesus and my King. Upon the theme I’d ever dwell, And in transporting raptures tell . --~~~~. What I in Jesus see : O could I speak the matchless worth ! I’d sing with more than mortal voice, O could I sound the glories forth ! And lose my life amidst the joys Which in my Saviour shine, Of what He is to me. Q6 G R EA T H YMN W/ R.I.T.E.R.S. \ Prostrate before His throne I’d fall, And bless His holy name for all The riches of His grace; I’d sing how glorious power subdued, I’d sing how sovereign love renewed, The vilest of the race. I’d sing the precious blood. He spilt, My ransom from the dreadful guilt Of sin and wrath divine ; I’d sing His glorious righteousness, In which all-perfect, heavenly dress My soul shall ever shine. I’d sing the characters He bears, And all the forms of love He wears, Exalted on His throne ; In loftiest songs of Sweetest praise # I would to everlasting days Make all His glories known. |But ah I’m still in clay confined, i And mortal passions clog my mind, And downward drag me still ; () when shall I attain the skies, And to immortal glories rise On Zion's heavenly hill? / When my dear Lord will bring me home, And I shall see His face ; Then with my Saviour, Brother, Friend, A blest eternity I’ll spend, Triumphant in His grace. 'ell, the delightful day will come | THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. | And chant the solemn lay : Joy, love, and gratitude combine To hail the auspicious day. In heaven the rapturous song began, And sweet seraphic fire Through all the shining legions ran, And strung and tuned the lyre. Swift through the vast expanse it flew, And loud the echo rolled ; The theme, the song, the joy, was new, - 'Twas more than heaven could hold. Down through the portals of the sky The impetuous torrent ran ; And angels flew, with eager joy, To bear the news to man. Wrapt in the silence of the night, The world in darkness lay, ORTALS, awake, with angels join, When sudden, glorious, heavenly light Burst in a flood of day. Hark the cherubic armies shout, | And glory leads the song: Good-will and peace are heard throughout The harmonious heavenly throng. () for a glance of heavenly love, Our hearts and Songs to raise ; Sweetly to bear our souls above, And mingle with their lays. With joy the chorus we repeat, “Glory to God on high ” Good-will and peace are now complete, Jesus was born to die. Hail, Prince of Life, forever hail Redeemer, Brother, Friend Though earth, and time, and life shall fail, Thy praise shall never end. JOHN FRWCETT, Huthor of "Blest be the tie that binds.” *.*.*.*.*.* HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. QQ REV, JOHN FAWCETT, D.D. “ DLEST be the tie that binds" is sung very frequently in token of Christian love and fellowship. The author was born in England in 1739. When about sixteen years of age he came under the influence of the great Methodist: revival. A sermon preached by Whitefield, upon John iii. 14, “As Moses lifted up the Serpent in the wilderness,” etc., was the means of his conversion. He was an earnest and active Christian from the first. Fawcett accepted a call to a small Baptist church, and was Ordained in 1765. A few years later he supplied for a time the pulpit of Dr. Gill, in London, who was ill. After the death of the Doctor the church extended a call to Mr. Fawcett. To be called from a weak country church to a strong city parish was a great honor; naturally enough he thought it a providential opening to a larger field of usefulness, and made his plans to move to London. His people at Wainsgate, however, were so afflicted at the thought of losing him, that they begged him with tears in their eyes not to leave them. Dr. Belcher, in telling the story, says: “The last wagon was being loaded when the good man and his wife sat down on one of the packing-cases to weep. Looking into his tearful face, while tears like rain fell down her own cheeks, his devoted wife said, ‘O John, John, I Cannot bear this I know not how to go.” – “Neither do I,' said the good man, ‘nor will we go. Unload the wagons and put everything in the place where it was before.’” His most famous hymn, “Blest be the tie,” etc., is said to have grown out of this experience. In 1777 a new chapel was built. Soon after he opened a boarding-school in his residence, Brearly Hall, for the education of youth and the better support of his family. A number of books came from his pen, the most important of which were, “Hymns adapted to the Circumstances of Public Worship and Private Devotion,” 1782, and the “Devotional Family Bible,” 1811. He received the honorary degree of D.D. in 1811, from Brown University. Dr. Fawcett died in Christian triumph in 1817. ==< *-** - - - - BROTHERLY LOWE. LEST be the tie that binds We share our mutual woes, Our hearts in Christian love ; Our mutual burdens bear ; The fellowship of kindred minds And often for each other flows Is like to that above. - The sympathizing tear. Before Our Father's throne When we asunder part, We pour our ardent prayers; It gives us inward pain ; Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one, But we shall still be joined in heart, Our comforts and our cares. And hope to meet again, 2-. | IOO G REAT H YMN WRITERS. This glorious hope revives Our courage by the way ; While each in expectation lives, And longs to see the day. BEFORE THy presence, gracious God, afford ; Prepare us to receive Thy word ; Now let Thy voice engage our ear, And faith be mixed with what we hear. Chorus. Thus, Lord, Thy waiting servants bless, And crown Thy gospel with success. Distracting thoughts and cares remove, And fix our hearts and hopes above ; SUPPORT IN A" FLICTED soul, to Jesus dear, Thy Saviour's gracious promise hear ; His faithful Word declares to thee, That as thy days thy strength shall be. Let not thy heart despond and say, “How shall I stand the trying day ?” He has engaged by firm decree, That as thy days thy strength shall be. Thy faith is weak, thy foes are strong; Yet sure the conflict shan’t be long : Thy Lord shall make the tempter flee, For as thy days thy strength shall be. The Christian race with patience run, Till grace complete the work begun ; | e & From Sorrow, toil, and pain, And sin we shall be free ; And perfect love and friendship reign Through all eternity. SERMON. With food divine may we be fed, And satisfied with living bread. To us the sacred Word apply With sovereign power and energy; And may we, in Thy faith and fear, Reduce to practice what we hear. Father, in us Thy Son reveal ; Teach us to know and do Thy will ; Thy saving power and love display, And guide us to the realms of day. AFFLICTION. Wrestle and strive for victory, For as thy days thy strength shall be. Should persecution rage and flame, Still trust in thy Redeemer's name; In fiery trials thou shalt see, That as thy days thy strength shall be. When called to bear the weighty cross Of sore afflictions, pain, or loss, Or deep distress, or poverty, Still as thy days thy strength shall be. When ghastly death appears in view, Christ's presence shall thy fear subdue ; He comes to set thy spirit free, And as thy days thy strength shall be. HUGUSTUS M. TOPLHDY, Author of "Rock of Ages.” HIS TO RIC H YMN IS T.S. IO3 REV. AUGUSTUS M. TOPLADY, M.A. NEXT to a personal acquaintance, a good portrait is the best means of gaining a correct impression of a man. The hymn “Rock of Ages” is a universal favorite, yet very few people ever saw an engraving of the author. Touching incidents connected with this hymn are numerous. It is so full of the spirit of prayer and true humility that it naturally meets the need of the Christian soul in the hour of extremity. In 1866 the steamship “London’ Biscay. The last man that escaped said, that when he left the ship the passengers were S1 nglng 5 went down in the Bay of “Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.” Augustus Montague Toplady was an Englishman, born November 4, 1740. He prepared for the University at Westminster School, and subsequently was graduated at Trinity College;-Dublin. While on a visit in Ireland in his sixteenth year he was awak- ened and converted at a service held in a barn in Codymain. The text was Eph. ii. I 3, “But now, in Christ Jesus, ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.” The preacher was an iſliterate, but warm-hearted, layman named Morris. Concerning this experience Toplady wrote: “Strange that I, who had so long sat under the means of grace in England, should be brought nigh unto God in an obscure part of Ireland, amidst a handful of God's people met together in a barn, and under the minis- try of one who could hardly spell his name. Surely this is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous.” - Toplady was ordained in 1762 ; in 1768 he became vicar of Broadhembury, a small living in Devonshire, which he held until his early death, in 1778. The last two or three years of his life he passed in London, where he preached in a chapel on Orange Street. His last sickness was of such a character that he was able to make a repeated and emphatic dying testimony. A short time before his death he asked his physician what he thought. The reply was that his pulse showed that his heart beat weaker almost every day. Toplady replied with a smile, “Why, that is a good sign that my death is fast approaching; and blessed be God, I can add, that my heart beats stronger and stronger every day for glory.” To another friend he said, “Oh, my dear sir, I can- not tell you the comforts I feel in my soul; they are past expression. . . . My prayers are all converted into praise.” He died of consumption, August 1 1, 1778. IO4 G R EA T H YMN W/ R.I.T.E.R.S. R00K OF AGES. 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 labors of my hands Can fulfil Thy law’s demands; Could my zeal no respite know, Could my tears forever 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 While 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 MEDITATION. WRITTEN WHEN languor and disease invade This trembling house of clay, 'Tis sweet to look beyond the cage, And long to fly away. Sweet to look inward, and attend The whispers of His love ; Sweet to look upward to the place Where Jesus pleads above. Sweet to look back, and see my name In life's fair book set down ; Sweet to look forward, and behold Eternal joys my own. Sweet to reflect how grace divine My sins on Jesus laid ; Sweet to remember that His blood My debt of sufferings paid. Sweet on His righteousness to stand, Which saves from second death ; Sweet to experience, day by day, His Spirit's quickening breath. Sweet on His faithfulness to rest, Whose love can never end ; IN II,I,NESS. Sweet on His covenant of grace For all things to depend. Sweet in the confidence of faith To trust His firm decrees; Sweet to lie passive in His hand, And know no will but His. Sweet to rejoice in lively hope, That, when my change shall come, Angels will hover round my bed, And waft my spirit home. If such the views which grace unfolds, Weak as it is below, What raptures must the Church above In Jesus’ presence know ! If such the sweetness of the stream, What must the Fountain be, Where saints and angels draw their bliss Immediately from Thee O may the unction of these truths Forever with me stay, Till, from her sinful cage dismissed, My spirit flies away ! TIMOTHY DWIGHT Author of “I love Thy kingdom, Lord." H IS TO RIC H YMN IS T.S. IO7 REV. TIMOTHY DWIGHT, D.D. HIS distinguished theologian and educator was well born, well brought up, well 3 2 educated, and, being “born again '' in early life, it is not strange that he became a conspicuous and useful man. He was born in Northampton, Mass., 1752 ; entered Yale College at the age of thirteen, and was graduated with honor in 1769. He taught School several years, declined political preferment, and in 1783 accepted a call as pastor of a church at Greenfield, Conn. In 1785 he published an ambitious epic poem, the first of the kind produced in America, entitled “The Conquest of Canaan,” which he dedicated to George Washington, “Commander-in-Chief of the American armies, the saviour of his country, the Supporter of freedom, and the benefactor of mankind.” He was elected president of Yale College in 1795, a position which he filled with distinguished success until his death, in 1817. His presidency marked a new era in the history of the college, and the subsequent honorable position of the institution has been due largely to his piety and wisdom. The excellent portrait on the Opposite page we reproduce from the “Yale Book,” by permission of the publishers, Henry Holt & Co., New York. - President Dwight contributed thirty-three hymns to his edition of Watts' Psalms, edited in 1800. One of them, “I love Thy kingdom, Lord,” is of superior value; it can be found in almost any hymnal. The patriotic ode given below was written while he was a chaplain in the army in the darkest period of the Revolution. Some of its startling predictions now seem to have been truly prophetic. COLUMBIA. OLUMBIA, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold, While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. Thy reign is the last and the noblest of time, Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime ; Let the crimes of the East ne'er encrimson thy name, Be freedom, and Science, and virtue thy fame. IO8 G REA T H YMN JAZ RITERS. To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire, Whelm nations in blood and wrap cities in fire; Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, And triumph pursue them and glory attend. A world is thy realm ; for a world by thy laws Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause ; On freedom's broad basis that empire shall rise, Extend with the main and dissolve with the skies. Fair science her gates to thy Sons shall unbar, And the East see thy morn hide the beams of her star. New bards, and new sages, unrivalled shall soar To fame unextinguished when time is no more ; To thee the last refuge of virtue designed, Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind; Here, grateful to Heaven, with transport shall bring Their incense, more fragrant than Odors of spring. Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, And genius and beauty in harmony blend ; The graces of form shall awake pure desire, And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire ; Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined, And virtue's bright image enstamped on the mind, With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow, And light up a smile in the aspect of woe. Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display, The nations admire and the oceans obey; & Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. As the day-spring unbounded thy splendor shall flow, And earth’s little kingdoms before thee shall bow ; While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurled, Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world. Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread, From war's dread confusion I pensively strayed ; The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired, The winds ceased to murmur, the thunders expired ; Perfumes as of Eden flowed sweetly along, And a voice as of angels enchantingly sung : Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world and the child of the skies ºÄŘ \\\\ \ÈNÈÈ « »， AYAW，« » \\ŅÈ • • • • • • • N N t.■\\\\\! №ĒSĒ™S=~<！--~~~~）; §§§§（§Ē * * （ （ N\}\\ N LE L RND, cJOH HIS TO RIC HYMNIS T.S. I I I * -- *--------- REW. JOHN LELAND. ELDER JOHN LELAND was born in Grafton, Mass., in 1754. As a youth he had a keen thirst for knowledge, but his opportunities for gaining an education were not liberal. He had access to few books, but he read the Bible a great deal. His religious Convictions were strong, yet he refused to submit to Christ until eighteen years of age, when he made a profession of religion, and joined a Baptist church. With other young men he began at once to hold neighborhood meetings, and soon after felt personally called to preach the gospel. At that time, the last quarter of the eighteenth century, the original United States were sparsely inhabited, and the labor of ministers of all denominations, except in the larger towns and cities, was “pioneer'' work. In September, 1776, he was married, and immediately started for Virginia, where he labored with varying success for fifteen years. In 1791 he returned to New England, travelling extensively, and preaching as he found opportunity, usually evenings, in the houses of the people. When he had been a min- ister for fifty years, he wrote: “I have preached in four hundred and thirty-six meeting- houses, thirty-seven court-houses, several capitols, many academies and School-houses, barns, tobacco-houses, and dwelling-houses, and hundreds of times on stages in the open air. My congregations have consisted of from five hearers to ten thousand. I have preached not far from eight thousand sermons, and the number of persons that I have baptized is one thousand two hundred and seventy-eight.” If America is a Christian land to-day, it is due more to the heroic pioneer preachers than to anything else. Leland was also a prolific writer; he published and circulated in pamphlet form more than thirty different sermons and addresses on religious subjects. Quite a number of his hymns are found in the social meeting books of the first part of the present century, but they have mostly disappeared in the battle of the “sur- ** **** -vival of the fittest.” One of these “spiritual songs” continued in popular use down to the present generation. Some will readily remember it, and the pathos and effect with which it was sung “Now the Saviour standeth pleading At the sinner's bolted heart; Now in heaven He's interceding, Undertaking sinners' part. “Sinner, can you hate the Saviour P Can you thrust Him from your arms? Once He died for your behavior, Now He calls you by His charms.” \ II 2 G REA T H YMN WRITERS. During the winter of 1788–89 Mr. Leland was engaged in evangelistic services in Virginia. That was long before the days of baptisteries in this Country. Immersions were frequently made through ice strong enough to hold up the people. On one such occasion Elder Leland composed the following stanzas to encourage the converts : “Christians, if your hearts be warm, Ice and Snow can do no harm ; If by Jesus you are prized, Rise, believe and be baptized. “Jesus drank the gall for you, Bore the cross for sinners due ; Children, prove your love to Him, Never fear the frozen stream. “Never shun the Saviour's cross, All on earth is worthless dross ; If the Saviour's love you feel, Let the world behold your zeal.” This extemporized hymn found a place in the hymn-books of the day, and was a great favorite with the people. - The only hymn of permanent value which he wrote is the one given below. It has had a very wide circulation in America, and has become almost a classic...To be the author of one such hymn, capable of holding its place in the hearts of the people for a hundred years, entitles Elder Leland to a place among distinguished hymnists. The oldest copies are found written in the singular number throughout, but it was changed very early. We give it as found in his biography, 1845. He died in 1841. EVENING HYMN. HE day is past and gone, May angels guard us while we sleep, The evening shades appear ; Till morning light appears. O may we all remember well The night of death draws near ! And if we early rise, * And view the unwearied sun, We lay our garments by, May we set out to win the prize, Upon our beds to rest; And after glory run. SO death will soon disrobe us all Of what we’ve here possessed. And when our days are past, And we from time remove, Lord, keep us safe this night, O may we in Thy bosom rest, Secure from all our fears; The bosom of Thy love . JHMES MONTGOMERY, Huthor of "Forever with the Lord.” HIS TO RIC HYMNIS T.S. II 5 x- JAMES MONTGOMERY. & \ f - f | "HE greatest Christian poet and hymn-writer of the nineteenth century was James | Montgomery. He was the son of a Moravian minister, a native of Scotland, born Af ; in 1771. While attending a Moravian School at Fulneck, England, he made a public 2" profession of religion and united with the Church. Subsequently he lost his Christian -. faith. After many years of doubt and dissatisfaction he was led to look again to the Saviour of his youth and found rest. At his own request he was readmitted into the Moravian congregation at Fulneck when forty-three years of age. He expressed his feel- ings at the time in this manner : “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 unblessed ; Brethren, where your altar burns, () receive me into rest.” Montgomery was an editor by profession, and for publishing what were called libellous articles, but which no liberal government would now notice, he was twice im- prisoned in the castle of York, -once in 1795, for three months, and again the following year, for six months. While in prison he wrote his first book of poems, “Prison Amuse- ments.” He was one of the first anti-slavery agitators, an advocate of modern missions, } ) and a lover of Sunday-schools. His “ Hosannah be the children’s song’’ was written for the Jubilee celebration of the origin of Sunday-schools, held in London, 1831. Two of his best hymns, “Hark! the song of jubilee ''' and “Angels from the realms of glory,” are genuine missionary Songs. He wrot * fº Zºº, ns. ... “When on Sinai's top I ... --~~~~see,” and “Gethsemane can I forget?” are specimens. Some of his Sweetest and grandest lyricſ are metrical versions of the Psalms, as, for example, “God is my strong salvation,” “Hail to the Lord's Anointed,” and “Servants of God in joyful lays.” “Forever with the Lord ” is a popular hymn, found in most collections. This Christian poet lived happily until he reached fourscore years and beyond. April 30, 1854, while sleeping, he ceased to breathe, and was translated to be “Forever with the Lord.” Montgomery appreciated his work. He said he would rather be the author of a few hymns which should become an imperishable inheritance to the people of God, than to bequeath another epic poem to the world which should rank his name with Homer, Virgil, and Milton. Verily, he has his reward. I IG G REA T H YMN W RITE R.S. CLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST. Sºs of praise the angels sang, Heaven with hallelujahs rang, When Jehovah's work begun, When He spake, and it was done. Songs of praise awoke the morn When the Prince of Peace was born ; Songs of praise arose when He Captive led captivity. Heaven and earth must pass away, Songs of praise shall crown that day; God will make new heavens and earth, Songs of praise shall hail their birth. WHAT RAYER is the soul’s sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed, The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try : Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice Returning from his ways, While angels in their songs rejoice, And cry, “Behold, he prays ” IS And can man alone be dumb Till that glorious kingdom come P No ; – the Church delights to raise Psalms, and hymns, and Songs of praise. Saints below, with heart and voice, Still in songs of praise rejoice ; Learning here, by faith and love, Songs of praise to sing above. Borne upon their latest breath, Songs of praise shall conquer death ; Then amidst eternal joy, Songs of praise their powers employ. PRAYER 7 Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air, His watchword at the gates of death; He enters heaven with prayer. The saints in prayer appear as One In word, and deed, and mind, While with the Father and the Son Sweet fellowship they find. Nor prayer is made by man alone, – The Holy Spirit pleads, And Jesus, on the eternal throne, For sinners intercedes. () Thou by whom we come to God, The life, the truth, the way The path of prayer Thyself hast trod; Lord, teach us how to pray. THE NAMES AND OFFICES OF CHRIST. RIGHT and joyful is the morn, For to us a Child is born ; From the highest realms of heaven Unto us a Son is given. On His shoulder He shall bear Power and majesty, and wear On His vesture and His thigh Names most awful, names most high. Wonderful in counsel, He, The incarnate Deity, Sire of ages ne'er to cease, King of kings, and Prince of Peace. Come and worship at His feet, Yield to Christ the homage meet ; From His manger to His throne, Homage due to God alone. :Lord!” ºf- . *i. . . . h 1 x . ...? #he # from him I roam; 7. £htly pitch my moving tent : day's march nearer home. Father's house on high, + orné of my soul, how near, At times, to faith's foreseeing eye, 3 Thy golden gates appear. - Ah! then my spirit faints a ** o: reach the land I love. 1 A.” bright inheritance of saints, * { . clouds will intervene, . d all my prospect flies; ike Noah's dove, I flit between : Rough seas and stºrmy skies. the clouds depart, ...The winds and waters cease, *While sweetly o'er my gladdened heart dš the bow of peace. eath its glowing arch, bng the hallowed ground, e cherubic armies march, amp” of fire around. £ºhear at morn and eyen, noon and midnight hour, shoral härmonies of heaven th’s Babel-tongues o'erpower. , then I feel that he + £membered or forgot), e Lord is never far from me, Though I perceive him not. . . . . . . . Part II. -- . In darkness as in light, - Hidden alike from view, * : isleep, I wake, within his sight, who looks existence through. 3m the dim' hour of birth. º rough every changing state -: , ortal pilgrimage on earth, its appointed date; th; ...I am, have been, ee at once, as he hath seen and shall forever see. . . w can I meet his eyes? Mine on the gross. I cast, own. my lifeja, Saviour's prize, Cy from first to last. é body pent, + ºf d J | * i *}º. . . . . . . . - §prever with the Lord!” - * * ather, if 't is thy will, º promise of that faithful word ^* yen here to me fulfil. hou at my right hand, ū. herº can I never fail; d thou me, and I shall stand, ht, and I must prevail. - io when my latest breath – † Shall, rend the veil in “twain, 4. death, I shall sescape from death, And life eternal gain. wing as I am known, . . ºx. ºw shall I love that word. - ift repeat before the throne, 7 rever with the Lord!” - hen, though the soul enjoy ºmmunion high and sweet, - hile worms, this body must destroy, Both shall in glory meet. e ...trump of final doom speak the self-same word, heaven's voice thunder through the jºtónb, . – - “Forever with the Lord!" ~ d wer from the ground. . . . . en, upward as they fly, t * ºthat resurrection word. . . . .” Shall be their shout of vietory, . . . “Forever, with the Lord!”. . . . That resurrection word, - That shout of victory, t . . . - Once more—“Forever with , the Lord!” Amen, so let it be. * . . . . . . - [James Montgomery. ... It is said that when Montgomery wrote this hymn he became so engrossed with his theme that he - tiltwenty: itansas were pleted. Only four or five, or at most seven stanzas of the hymn are now in general use. T * * * - The hymn has been sung to most of the | good short metre tunes, but the music, most commonly recognized as its peculiar prop- erty are “Mornington,” named from, its Mornington, and “Forever with the Lord,” Wogdbury. ... * - | composer, Garret Colley Wellesley, Earl of i by the American Composer, Hiaag Baker º REGINRLD HEBER: Ruthor of "From Greenland's icy mountains.” HIS TO RIC H YMN IS T.S. I IQ BISHOP REGINALD HEBER. THE author of “From Greenland's icy mountains,” and other valuable hymns, was wº born at Malpas, England, April 21, 1783. His early life was precocious. From a child he knew the Holy Scriptures, and read them with fluency and avidity at five years of age. He early learned the importance of prayer ; when about fourteen he s mastered—his—aether's—“-Companion-te--the Altar,” and begged to be allowed to accompany her at the next sacrament, a request that was joyfully granted. Young Heber was very inquisitive, fond of books, and made rapid progress in all his studies except mathematics. He prepared for the University in a private School, and entered Brasenose College, Oxford, in 1800, when a little more than seventeen years old. He was graduated with honor in 1804, and soon after was elected a Fellow of All Souls’ College. Mr. Heber spent some time in travel, and in 1807 took his degree of M.A. The same year he was admitted to orders. He married in 1809, and settled at Hodnet. Soon after his marriage he wrote some of his first hymns, which were published in the “Christian Observer” in 181 I. He wrote verse with ease and rapidity. His most popular hymn, which, in spite of many others on the same subject, is known as ſhe Missionary Hymn, was written in 1819 in a few monents, and the manuscript contained only one emendation. For several years Mr. Heber had been deeply interested in missionary work, especially in India. In 1822 the see of Calcutta became vacant by the death of Bishop Middleton, and the bishopric was tendered to him. In the first instance he declined the position on account of the opposition of his friends, and the fear that the climate of India would not agree with his family. These difficulties being overcome, at least partially, on the renewal of the offer he accepted the situation, and was consecrated at Lambeth, June 1, 182 3 e immediately sailed for Calcutta and entered upon the _* g-2 *-* duties of his office. At a service of native Christians at Tanjore more than thirteen lº **, ** -- - - - - - - . . l r 2 3 – hundred persons were present, and the evidence of the great work upon these people filled the Bishop's heart with joy. At the close of the service he exclaimed, “ Gladly He found the harvest j would I exchange years of common life for one such day as this ' ' plenteous but the laborers few. His own abundant labors were suddenly terminated. Returning to his lodging from a service at Trichinopoli, April 3, 1826, where he had delivered an address and confirmed fifteen native converts, he went to his room to take a cold bath, and was found by his servant half an hour later lifeless. IDeath was caused by the effects of cold on a body exhausted by heat and fatigue. It seemed unspeakably sad and strange to his friends ; but with him, doubtless, sudden death was sudden glory. His acceptation of the bishopric of Calcutta probably shortened his life, but increased his usefulness and fame. I 20 G R E A T H YMN WRITERS. HOSANNA. HOs: NNA to the living Lord, Hosanna to the incarnate Word, To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, Let earth, let heaven hosanna sing ; Hosanna | Lord Hosanna in the highest Hosanna, Lord ' Thine angels cry; Hosanna, Lord ' Thy saints reply; Above, beneath us, and around, The dead and living swell the sound : Hosanna | Lord Hosanna in the highest O Saviour ! with protecting care, Return to this Thy house of prayer; Assembled in Thy sacred name ; Where we Thy parting promise claim, Hosanna | Lord Hosanna in the highest But, chiefest, in Our cleansed breast, Eternal bid Thy Spirit rest; And make our secret soul to be A temple pure and worthy Thee. Hosanna | Lord ' Hosanna in the highest So, in the last and dreadful day, When earth and heaven shall melt away, Thy flock, redeemed from sinful stain, Shall swell the sound of praise again. Hosanna | Lord Hosanna in the highest FORGIVE. GOD ! my sins are manifold, against my life they cry, * And all my guilty deeds, foregone, up to Thy temple fly ; Wilt Thou release my trembling soul, that to despair is driven P “Forgive,” a blessed voice replied, “and thou shalt be forgiven.” My foemen, Lord, are fierce and fell, they spurn me in their pride, They render evil for my good, my patience they deride ; Arise, O King ! and be the proud to righteous ruin driven “Forgive,” an awful answer came, “as thou wouldst be forgiven.” Seven times, O Lord, I pardoned them, seven times they sinned again ; They practise still to work me woe, they triumph in my pain ; But let them dread Thy vengeance now to just resentment driven. “Forgive,” the voice of thunder spake, “ or never be forgiven.” MISSIONARY HYMN. FROM Greenland's icy mountains, From India’s coral strand ; Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand ; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain. What though the spicy breezes Blow soft O'er Ceylon's isle; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile P In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown; The heathen in his blindness Bows down to wood and stone. Can we, whose souls are lighted With wisdom from on high, – Can we to men benighted The lamp of life deny P Salvation O salvation The joyful sound proclaim, Till earth’s remotest nation Has learned Messiah’s name. Waft, waft, ye winds His story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole ; Till O'er Our ransomed nature The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign. THOMAS HASTINGS, Huthor of “Gently, Lord, O gently lead us,” ºr, ſº (ºn "nº" C \ - - \. § { º, - • \ . \ / F \c HISTORIC HYMNIST.S. I 23 \ THOMAS HASTINGS, MUS.D. ONE of the most popular of American hymnists was Thomas Hastings, of New York. He was born in Washington, Conn., October 15, 1784. When he was twelve years old he removed with his parents to Clinton, N.Y., which was then on the frontier. With an eager desire for knowledge, his educational advantages were limited ; born with an uncommon love for music, he could secure, at that time, only meagre instruction. He obtained a few books on music, and educated himself so that he taught country singing- schools, which were popular more for the social advantages they furnished than for the instruction they aſſorded in music. - In 1818, in connection with Professor Norton, he compiled his first book, the famous “Musica Sacra.” With Dr. Lowell-Mason he edited a valuable book for social worship, — “Spiritual Songs,” 1832. Soon after he removed to New York City, where he resided forty years, until his death, in 1872. For several years he was the editor of a religious journal, but he resigned in 1832, and devoted himself to music. Sacred music was not only his profession, but his delight; it was to him a holy calling. He composed many tunes; among the best known are “Zion,” “Ortonville,” “New Haven,” “Rock of Ages,” “Wesley,” and “Retreat.” He was honored with the degree of Doctor of Music, a title that he richly deserved. He became a hymnist without intention. In selecting words for his music he frequently found it necessary to amend some unsingable line. Sometimes he abbreviated a hymn, and again wrote an additional stanza. In some cases he failed to find just what he wanted, and attempted original composition in verse. In this way he learned to write hymns, and continued the practice occasionally until the close of life. In 1850 he published a volume of “Devotional Hymns and Religious Poetry,” and he left a large number in manuscript. Dr. Hastings was a man of deep and earnest piety. He devoted himself to his chosen work, not only from a love of it, but for the glory of God. We have room for a few of his valuable hymns. PILGRIMAGE. Gº , Lord, O gently lead U1S In the hour of pain and anguish, Through this lonely vale of tears; In the hour when death draws near, Through the changes Thou'st decreed us, Suffer not our hearts to languish, Till Our last great change appears. Suffer not our souls to fear. When temptation's darts assail us, And when mortal life is ended, When in devious paths we stray, 3id us in Thine arms to rest, Let Thy goodness never fail us, Till, by angel bands attended, Lead us in Thy perfect way. We awake among the blest. ^ 3ſ, NT, I 24 GREA T H YMN WRITERS. INVITATION. HILD of sin and sorrow, Filled with dismay, Wait not for to-morrow, Yield thee to-day : Heaven bids thee come, While yet there's room ; Child of sin and sorrow, Hear and obey. Child of sin and sorrow, Why wilt thou die? Come, while thou canst borrow Help from on high : Grieve not that love Which from above, Child of sin and sorrow, Would bring thee nigh. DEEP CONTRITION, ESUS, save my dying soul, Make my wounded spirit whole ; Humbled in the dust I lie, Saviour, leave me not to die Jesus, full of every grace, Now reveal Thy smiling face ; Grant the joy of sin forgiven, Foretaste of the bliss of heaven All my guilt to Thee is known, Thou art righteous, Thou alone ; All my help is from Thy cross, All beside I count but loss. Lord, in Thee I now believe, Wilt Thou, wilt Thou not forgive? Helpless at Thy feet I lie, Saviour, leave me not to die. LOOKING FOR HEAVEN. ARTH'S shadowy years will soon be o'er, Heaven’s blissful morn arise, And sorrow’s night will then no more O'ercloud these weeping eyes. Then will the Lord Of life and love Unveil His beaming face, And never from my sight remove The bright celestial rays. RESIGNATION IT is the Lord, my soul be still, And bow before the throne ; O let me now submission feel, And say, Thy will be done. It is the Lord, whose chastening hand Has filled the cup of woe: The shaft of death by His command Hath struck the fatal blow. IN Then will this froward, sinful heart No more offend my God; Nor ever from that love depart, Which fills the high abode. Then everlasting peace and joy And transport shall be mine ; Praise shall my utmost powers employ In melody divine. AFFLICTION. It is the Lord, who kindly gave, That takes the gift away; 'Tis sin that dooms us to the grave, In His appointed way. It is the Lord, and He is good, Unchangeably the same ; Though sorrow rises like a flood, I’ll bless His holy name. Page Missing in Original Volume Page Missing in Original Volume HENRY KIRKE WHITE, Ruthor of " The Star of Bethlehem.” CHPIRLOTTE ELLIOTT Huthor of "Just as I am." ~f~~9. HIS TO RIC HYMNISTS. I 3 I MISS CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT. ISS ELLIOTT, 1789–1871, was a member of a talented English family. Two 1 brothers, H. V. and E. B. Elliott, were clergymen in the Church of England. As a young lady, Miss Elliott was accomplished, and a great favorite in social circles where religion was not mentioned ; but a severe sickness, in 1821, removed her from these com- panions, and led her to feel the need of a personal Saviour. About this time lºr-Catsar– Malan, of Geneva, on a visit to England, became acquainted with the family, and his wise instruction was the means of her conversion. A letter from Dr. Malan, dated May 18, 1822, closed with this advice : “Dear Charlotte, cut the cable, it will take too long to unloose it; cut it, it is a small loss; the wind blows and the Ocean is before you, - the Spirit of God and eternity.” This friendship was life-long, and the date of its beginning, May 9, 1822, was always regarded, says her sister, as “the birthday of her soul to true spiritual life and peace.” After this experience the Bible became a highly prized and loved book. In later years, when she was not able to attend public worship, she wrote: “My 13ible is my church. It is always open, and there is my High Priest ever waiting to receive me. There I have my confessional, my thanksgiving, my psalm of praise, and a congregation of whom the world is not worthy, - prophets, and apostles, and martyrs, and confessors; in short, all I can want I find there.” Miss Elliott edited a little-ar aual for twenty-five years, called “The Christian _Remembrancer. Pocket Book,” in which many of her original hymns appeared. She also wrote “Hymns for a Week,” and “Hours of Sorrow, Cheered and Comforted,” and edited several editions of “The Invalid's Hymn Book,” to which she contributed a large ” her brother, the Rev. Henry Venn Elliott, wrote: “In the course of a long ministry I hope I have been permitted to see some fruit of my labors, but I feel that far more has been done number of her lyrics. Of her best-known hymn, “Just as I am, by a single hymn of my sister’s.” The other two selections are not as widely known, but they are very valuable. Though an invalid much of the time, Miss Elliott lived to reach fourscore. She was happy, and helpful to others, because she was a Christian. 9. ---------——- - ------ ſ ſº THY WILL BE DONE.” M /[Y God and Father while I stray Though dark my path and sad my lot, Far from my home in life's rough way, Let me “be still,” and murmur not, Oh teach me from my heart to say, Or breathe the prayer divinely taught, “Thy will be done ” “Thy will be done I 32 G REA T H YMN WRITERS. What though in lonely grief I sigh If but my fainting heart be blest For friends beloved, no longer nigh, With Thy sweet Spirit for its guest, Submissive still would I reply, My God to Thee I leave the rest — “Thy will be done ’’ “Thy will be done . " If Thou shouldst call me to resign What most I prize, it ne'er was mine ; Renew my will from day to day, Blend it with Thine, and take away I only yield Thee what was Thine ; All that now makes it hard to say, “Thy will be done ” “Thy will be done ’’ Should pining sickness waste away Then, when on earth I breathe no more My life in premature decay, The prayer oft mixed with tears before, My Father still I strive to say, I’ll sing, upon a happier shore, “Thy will be done . " “Thy will be done l’’ COME UNTO ME. WITH tearful eyes I look around, Sinking beneath the heavy chain, Life seems a dark and stormy sea ; The words arrest me, “Come to me.” Yet, 'midst the gloom, I hear a sound, A heavenly whisper, “Come to me.” When nature shudders, loath to part From all I love, enjoy, and see, It tells me of a place of rest — When a faint chill steals o'er my heart, It tells me where my soul may flee; A sweet voice utters, “Come to me.” Oh to the weary, faint, oppressed, . e g How sweet the bidding, “ Come to me !” “Come, for all else must fail and die ; ” “Earth is no resting-place for thee; ” When the poor heart with anguish learns “Heavenward direct thy weeping eye,” That earthly props resigned must be, “I am thy Portion,” “Come to me.” And from each broken cistern turns, It hears the accents, “Come to me.” () voice of mercy voice of love In conflict, grief, and agony; Support me, cheer me from above And gently whisper, “Come to me.” When against sin I strive in vain, And cannot from its yoke get free, JUST AS I AM. UST as I am — without one plea, Just as I am — Thou wilt receive, But that Thy blood was shed for me, | Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve, And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, Because Thy promise I believe, O Lamb of God, I come ! O Lamb of God, I come ! Just as I am — and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot, Just as I am – Thy love unknown To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, Has broken every barrier down; O Lamb of God, I come ! Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone, | O Lamb of God, I come ! Lyaeº, ŹŹŹ -ZZZZZZ *Źź Z4%%Z %% ºz ‘Zae ' ！ ！ »∞ ·22222222， ·%áź%%%% ||||||||||||||||||| };|||||||||||||||||| #ffff;% % -////// %% .* .* ſſ! }} } fff # } ſj Ž% ſý% %ſ. ſſſ %% % ſ. %%;«. § ſ // /////// + • … * * .* % ſ. °′ A ff % ∞ % % ∞ //ſiſ jtſ ft ſº ſſſ #fffff/ ſý Ž %%%%%ffſŹź ŹŹ： Ž%źA：% %%%%%%% #ffffffffff; #fffffffff; ſq ſ/ Ø % %%%%%% ////%%% ſ az // ſ.ſų ſ.%£ { % // 22· %% /} // }};#ffff;#4 ſºſ %|ſºſ{}{{#ſ ffffff;// #ff72 d i Huthor of "Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear | | 3. Ł *** :- HIS TO RIC HYMNIST.S. I 35 REV, JOHN KEBLE, M.A. & 4 HE Christian Year,” 1827, “The Psalter; or, Psalms of David in English Verse,” 1839, and “Lyra Innocentium,” 1846, were all published anonymously; but they were written by the Rev. John Keble, a Church of England clergyman, born in 1792. His father, vicar of Coln, St. Aldwin’s, a devout and Scholarly man, prepared his sons for the University. This plan had the advantage of keeping them at home during the most malleable years, when character is unconsciously formed ; and in this case, at least, the young men obtained an especially early and good preparation. John Keble entered Corpus Christi College in 1806, and was graduated, with the highest honors, in 1810. The next year, when only nineteen, he was elected a Fellow of Oriel. He now began to prepare for Orders, and in 1815 was ordained deacon, and priest the year following. He resided at Oxford five years as tutor, and then served as curate to his father. - “The Christian Year” was a great success from the first ; edition followed edition, j | and although the author has passed into the unseen, this work remains one of the most | salable, and one of the most readable, books of sacred poetry in the language. In 1831 --~~~~T - -- ","-A-r-...--e... : : -: * * - - - - - - . - - - - - & he was elected Professor of Poetry in Oxford, a position of great honor, which he held i ten years. In 1836 he became vicar of Hursley, which living he held until his death, in 1866. Keble was one of the leaders of the “Oxford movement,” which began about 1833. Cardinal Newman regarded him as the “primary author’’ of Tractarianism, so called. He wrote several of the “Tracts for the Times,” and gave the new departure the whole weight of his influence, until he found that it was leading his friends and followers into the Roman Catholic Church. This result he had not expected. After Newman and others went over to Rome, Keble and Dr. Pusey endeavored, for many years, to advance High Anglican principles, yet labored to prevent the disciples of the new movement from becoming Romanists. Keble's present fame rests not on his theological “tracts,” but upon his “Chris- will be sung long after his controversial } } tian Year.” “Sun of my soul | Thou Saviour dear, writings are forgotten. EVENING. ”TIS gone, that bright and orbed blaze, In darkness and in weariness Fast fading from Our wistful gaze : The traveller on his way must press, Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight No gleam to watch on tree or tower, The last faint pulse of quivering light. Whiling away the lonesome hour. I 36 G R E A T H YMN WRITE R.S. Sun of my soul | Thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near ; Oh may no earth-born cloud arise To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes. When round Thy wondrous works below, My Searching, rapturous glance I throw, Tracing out wisdom, power, and love, In earth or sky, in stream or grove ; Or, by the light Thy words disclose, Watch time’s full river as it flows, Scanning Thy gracious providence, Where not too deep for mortal sense : — When with dear friends sweet talk I hold, And all the flowers of life unfold, I et not my heart within me burn, Except in all I Thee discern. When the soft dews of kindly sleep My wearied eyelids gently steep, Be my last thought, how sweet to rest Forever on my Saviour's breast. Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live ; Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die. Thou Framer of the light and dark, Steer through the tempest Thine own ark; Amid the howling wintry sea We are in port if we have Thee. The rulers of this Christian land 'Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand, - Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright; Let all do all as in Thy sight. Oh! by Thine own sad burden borne So meekly up the hill of scorn, Teach Thou Thy priests their daily cross To bear as Thine, nor count it loss If some poor wandering child of Thine Have spurned to-day the voice divine, Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; Let him no more lie down in sin. Watch by the sick; enrich the poor With blessings from Thy boundless store ; Be every mourner's sleep to-night Like infant’s slumbers, pure and light. Come near and bless us when we wake, Ere through the world Our way we take, – Till, in the ocean of Thy love, We lose ourselves in heaven above. ANTICIPATION AND RETROSPECTION. FRAGMENT of a rainbow bright Through the moist air I see, All dark and damp On yonder height, All clear and gay to me. An hour ago the storm was here, The gleam was far behind. So will our joys and griefs appear When earth has ceased to blind. Grief will be joy, if on its edge Fall soft that holiest ray; Joy will be grief, if no faint pledge Be there of heavenly day. Christ’s Passion eve fell dark and drear Upon His faithful few, But brighter each returning year, In memory gleamed anew. And loud the chant of hope and glee O'er Adam's eldest born ; But, hapless mother, who like thee Her travail pangs might mourn? | 1} №ſáſ %%%% %%%ae% %ſae ſºº ſ ~ // Z2 7. % % ~~ % % ſ.; ; ; , ; :::Zººprzy ſº º ，ae Źź º ſººſ%%%%%%%%%%% ***“， } ſae %% ſ. % % 2? |- ſae ·。 、。22% Zº zºººſ º ae ºs º - § & º º ;2% ///// %% //% //Z%%%3 ſººſ Z ['4',% 9 × °ſºſ* ، ، ،%%% % %% }; Ź. Z Ø2,72%; %� %% s'， %% %%· d) O HN BOW RING -ſ o Chris the cross { { In f Hiſthor o HIS TO RIC HYMNIST.S. I39 SIR JOHN BOWRING, LL.D. HIS distinguished linguist and diplomatist was born in Exeter, England, in 1792. He left the grammar School at the age of fourteen, and assisted his father, who was con- nected with the woollen trade ; later he was a clerk for a merchant in Exeter. At this time he was very studious, and spent all his spare hours in indulging his taste for books. He had a natural love for language ; much of the time between the age of twenty and thirty Bowring spent in travel. This gave him a good Opportunity to indulge his gift, and he became one of the most famous linguists of his time. In 1835 he was elected to Parliament, where he was known as a philanthropist and reformer. In 1848 he became British consul at Canton. Afterwards he was ap- pointed governor of Hong Kong and its dependencies. He was doctored in 1828, and ~knighted in 1854. For several years following 1855 Sir John was a busy and successful diplomatist; at the same time he maintained his position in letters, and made frequent contributions to the magazines and reviews of the day. Bowring was a Unitarian, though in faith and Spirit he was nearer to Orthodoxy than to the radical wing of his own denomination. His best thoughts are embodied in 1825. -** in his hymns. “Matins and Vespers' } } ) was published in 1823, and “Hymns He died at the age of eighty, 1872. A part of his grandest hymn, “In the Cross of Christ I glory,” is inscribed upon his tombstone. In his preface to “Matins and Vespers ” he wrote: “I have often witnessed, with complacency and delight, the consoling influence produced by the recollection of some passage of devotional poetry, under circumstances the most disheartening, and suffering the most oppressive. Should any fragment of this little book, remembered and dwelt upon in moments of gloom and anxiety, tend to restore peace, to awaken fortitude, to create, to renew, or to strengthen confidence in heaven, I shall have obtained the boon for which I pray — the end to which I aspire. . . . To be useful is my first ambition ; that obtained, I am indifferent to the rest.” His desire was a laudable one, and has been fulfilled abundantly. Many of his hymns are in common use ; some of them rank among the best, and are highly appreciated by all branches of the Christian Church. I4O G REA T H YMN WRITERS. JESUS TEACHING THE PEOPLE. HOW sweetly flowed the gospel’s sound From lips of gentleness and grace, While listening thousands gathered round, And joy and reverence filled the place. From heaven He came, of heaven He spoke, To heaven He led His followers' way; Dark clouds of gloomy night He broke, Unveiling an immortal day. “Come, wanderers, to my Father's home ; Come, all ye weary ones, and rest.” Yes, sacred Teacher, we will come, Obey Thee, love Thee, and be blest. Decay, then, tenements of dust Pillars of earthly pride, decay ! A nobler mansion waits the just, And Jesus has prepared the way. GOD IS LOWE. OD is love . His mercy brightens All the path in which we rove ; Bliss He wakes, and woe He lightens : God is wisdom | God is love Chance and change are busy ever; Man decays and ages move ; But His mercy waneth never : God is wisdom | God is love E’en the hour that darkest seemeth Will His changeless goodness prove ; From the mist His brightness streameth : God is wisdom | God is love He with earthly cares entwineth Hope and comfort from above ; Everywhere His glory shineth : God is wisdom | God is love God is love . His mercy brightens All the path in which we rove ; Bliss He wakes, and woe He lightens : God is wisdom | God is love CROSS OF CHRIST, IN the Cross of Christ I glory, Towering o'er the wrecks of time, All the light of sacred story - Gathers round its head sublime. /When the woes of life o’ertake me, Hopes deceive and fears annay- Never shall the Cross forsake Ille — Lºi sº sº Pºes audiº When the Sun of bliss is beaming Light and 19xe upon my way, From the Cross the radiance streaming tºmºmºmºmºe Q- S Adds more lustre to The day. Bane’ānd blessing, Dainfänd pleasure, * By the Cross are sanctified ; & *-*. Peace is there that knows no measure, Joys that through all-time—abºde— R * 9. a.e. In the Cross of Christ I glory, Towering O'er the wrecks of time, All the light of sacred story Gathers round its head sublime. HYMN. HE offerings to Thy throne which rise, Of mingled praise and prayer, Are but a worthless sacrifice Unless the heart is there. Upon Thine all-discerning ear Let no vain words intrude ; No tribute but the vow sincere, — The tribute of the good. My Offering will indeed be blest, If sanctified by Thee : If Thy pure spirit touch my heart With its own purity. O may that spirit warm my heart To piety and love, And to life's lowly vale impart Some rays from heaven above. WILLIHM B, TAPPRN, Author of "There is an hour of peaceful rest HIS TO RIC H YMN IS T.S. I43 WILLIAM BINGHAM TAPPAN. MR. TAPPAN was emphatically a self-made man. His father died when he was young. He never attended school, except for six months ; but taught school for several years successfully in Philadelphia. A pious mother's prayers and teaching saved him from gross immorality, and when he came to manhood he became an earnest Christian. He was connected with the American Sunday-School Union in Boston, and also in Cincinnati and Philadelphia. He is sometimes called “ Rev.,” for he was licensed to preach in 1840, but was never ordained. He was born in Massachusetts in 1794, and died in 1848. Mr. Tappan published several volumes of poetry, but derived little pecuniary profit from them. He was a worthy man, not sufficiently appreciated in his own day. (“Hymn Studies.”) One of Mr. Tappan's hymns closes with this beautiful prayer-song : “Enter this heart, my Saviour, God, Subdue this diaty-breast; -- Shed Thy renewing grace abroad, And be my constant guest.” The pathetic poem, rather than hymn, entitled “”Tis Midnight,” was published in 1822. “There is an hour of peaceful rest' was written in 1818, for the “Franklin Gazette,” Philadelphia. The other selections are equally meritorious. “The Sea of Galilee '' is grand, and “The Cross" is something more — it is eloquent. 'TIS MIDNIGHT. "TIS midnight, and on Olive's brow 'Tis midnight, and for others' guilt The star is dimmed that lately shone ; The Man of Sorrows weeps in blood ; 'Tis midnight; in the garden now Yet He that hath in anguish knelt, The suffering Saviour prays alone. Is not forsaken by His God. 'Tis midnight, and from all removed 'Tis midnight, and from ether plains Immanuel wrestles, lone, with fears; Is borne the song that angels know ; E’en the disciple that He loved Unheard by mortals are the strains Heeds not his Master's grief and tears. That sweetly soothe the Saviour's woe. G REA T H YMN W/ R.I.T.E.R.S. THERE IS AN HERE is an hour of peaceful rest To mourning wanderers given ; There is a joy for souls distressed, A balm for every wounded breast, 'Tis found above, in heaven. There is a soft, a downy bed, 'Tis fair as breath of even ; A couch for weary mortals spread, Where they may rest the aching head, And find repose in heaven. There is a home for weeping souls, By sin and sorrow driven ; When tost on life’s tempestuous shoals, THE Sºl. of shame — mysterious sign Of groans, and agonies, and blood, Hail, pledge of love, of peace divine, From God. Symbol of hope to those that stray, - The pilgrim's vow ascends to Thee ; Star of the soul, Thou guid'st the way To Calvary. Symbol of tears — we look and mourn His woes, whose soul for man was riven ; HOUR. Where storms arise and ocean rolls, And all is drear—’tis heaven. There faith lifts up the tearful eye, The heart with anguish riven ; And views the tempest passing by, The evening shadows quickly fly, And all Serene in heaven. There fragrant flowers immortal bloom, And joys Supreme are given ; There rays divine disperse the gloom, Beyond the confines of the tomb | Appears the dawn of heaven. CROSS. Where, wanderer, is thy due return To heaven P Symbol of empire — thou shalt rise And shine, where lands in darkness sit, On eastern domes that greet the skies And minaret. Symbol of glory — when no more The monarch grasps his diadem, Thou still shalt burn, while worlds adore Immanuel's gem. THE SEA OF GALILEE. JESUS once on Galilee Thy voice of power was heard, When madly that dark heaving sea Through all its depths was stirred. The forky lightnings Thee revealed, Calm 'mid the storm's increase, And far above where thunders pealed / 3 × Was heard the whisper, “A”ace . How drooped at once that foaming sheet | Of waters, vexed and wild ! Each wave came falling at Thy feet, Just like a humbled child. | So rages my tumultuous breast, SO chafes my maniac will ; — Speak and these troubled seas shall rest; | Speak and the storm is still. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYRINT, Author of "All praise to Him of Nazareth." H IS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. I47 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. RYANT is recognized as a true poet, one of the ablest and sweetest that America has ever produced. He was born at Cummington, Mass., November 3, 1794. After a partial course at Williams College he studied law, and practised several years. In 1826 he became connected with the New York “Evening Post,” and continued to be One of its editors and proprietors down to the time of his death, June 12, 1878. Bryant began to write verses at a very early age ; some of them were printed when he was only ten years old. His “Einbargo,” a political satire, was published in 1808, when he was thirteen. “Thanatopsis,” by many considered his finest poem, appeared in 1816. The first volume of his poems was published in 182 1 ; in 1832 another complete edition, which was republished in England. Many later editions have been sold. A thin duodecimo volume of “Hymns, by William Cullen Bryant,” without date, but said to have been privately printed in 1869, contains nineteen selections. Some of these are not found in his published poems, yet it is quite possible that they may be sung by Christian people when his more ambitious productions have been forgotten. His life was long, active, and useful. His manly, Christian character was everywhere recognized, and in his later years he was truly venerated. The last fine hymn, “As shadows, cast by cloud and sun,” is given by permission of Messrs. Hunt & Eaton, New York, owners of the Copyright. COMMUNION HYMN. A". praise to Him of Nazareth, And opened to His followers’ view The Holy One who came The glorious world they hide. For love of man to die a death Of agony and shame ! In tender memory of His grave The mystic bread we take, Dark was the grave; but since He lay And muse upon the life He gave Within its dreary cell, For Our unworthy sake. The beams of heaven’s eternal day Upon its threshold dwell. A boundless love He bore mankind ; Oh, may at least a part He grasped the iron veil, He drew Of that strong love descend and find Its gloomy folds aside, A place in every heart G R E A T H YMN WRITE R.S. ALL THINGS O North, with all thy vales of green O South, with all thy palms From peopled towns and fields between Uplift the voice of psalms. Raise, ancient East, the anthem high, And let the youthful West reply LO ! in the clouds of heaven appears God’s well-beloved Son ; He brings a train of brighter years, His kingdom is begun. He comes a guilty world to bless With mercy, truth, and righteousness. UNDER HIS FEET. O Father haste the promised hour When at His feet shall lie All rule, authority, and power, Beneath the ample sky; When He shall reign from pole to pole, The Lord of every human soul. When all shall heed the words He said, Amid their daily cares, And, by the loving life He led, Shall strive to pattern theirs; And He who conquered Death shall win The mightier conquest over Sin. HOW AMIABLE ARE THY TABERNACLES. y | "HOU, whose unmeasured temple stands, Built over earth and sea, Accept the walls that human hands Have raised, O God to Thee. And let the Comforter and Friend, Thy Holy Spirit, meet With those who here in worship bend Before Thy mercy seat. May they who err be guided here To find the better way, And they who mourn and they who fear Be strengthened as they pray. May faith grow firm, and love grow warm, And hallowed wishes rise, While round these peaceful walls the storm Of earth-born passion dies, THE GUIDING STAR. S shadows, cast by cloud and sun, Flit o'er the summer grass, So, in thy sight, Almighty One, Earth's generations pass. And as the years, an endless host, Come swiftly pressing on, The brightest names that earth can boast Just glisten and are gone. % *... w 2^ | | * : * ~ : | - f º Ş ; ; : \ . Altº Y^^ ºw. wº - : & * $ ū fºr lº, %hº 54 Yet doth the star of Bethlehem shed A lustre pure and sweet; And still it leads, as once it led, To the Messiah’s feet. O Father may that holy star Grow every year more bright, And Send its glorious beams afar To fill the world with light. {Y& R*. Rev. GEORGE w Doane ruttur-Hut-ur-wa- - ‘sºot º New Sºusºv, is *2 - 54 HIS TO R J C H YMN IS T.S. I 5 I BISHOP GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE. ISHOP DOANE possessed a genuine poetic talent, but he was too active and devoted to the work of the ministry to spend much time in writing verse. “Songs by the Way” was the appropriate title that he gave to a volume of his collected poems published in 1824. He was lau-º-º-eatau. N.L., in 1799 was educated at Union College, Schenec: tady, N.Y. After his graduation he taught school and studied law for a time, but T subsequently gave up law for theology. He was ordained a deacon in 1821, and a priest in 1823. • In September, 1824, he became Professor of Belles-Lettres in Trinity College, : ... …ws--" " ' Hartford, Conn. Four years later he removed to Boston, as assist. rector of Trinit Church (Protestant-Episcopal). He became rector in 1830 ; two years later he was chosen Bishop of New Jersey, and in October, 1832, was consecrated to that office. His devotion to the work of his diocese was complete. In twenty years the number of clergymen increased from eighteen to ninety-nine, and the communicants from six hundred and fifty to five thousand. He died at his official residence, Burlington, N.J., ºrm- April 27, 1859. Bishop Doane’s “Evening is a genuine and valuable hymn. The “Prayer’ that follows is worthy of a Bishop, and ; 7 is found in many collections. “Thou art the Way ” good enough for a layman. “The Wedded Flags ’’ is both patriotic and Christian. I pity the Englishman or American that can read it without emotion. EVENING. OFTLY now the light of day Soon, for me, the light of day Fades upon my sight away : - Shall forever pass away; Free from care, from labor free, Then, from sin and sorrow free, * Lord, I would commune with Thee : Take me, Lord, to dwell with Thee : Thou, whose all-pervading eye Thou who, sinless, yet hast known Naught escapes, without, within, All of man's infirmity : Pardon each infirmity, Then, from Thine eternal throne, Open fault, and secret sin. Jesus, look with pitying eye. I 52 W/ R.I.T.E.R.S. G REA T H YMN THE WAY. THE TRUTH, THE LIFE. HOU art the Way ; to Thee alone From Sin and Death we flee ; And he who would the Father seek Must seek Him, Lord, by Thee. Thou art the Truth ; Thy word alone True wisdom can impart ; Thou only canst inform the mind And purify the heart. Thou art the Life ; the rending tomb Proclaims Thy conquering arm, And those who put their trust in Thee, Nor death nor hell shall harm. | Thou art the Way, the Truth, the Life ; Grant us that Way to know, That Truth to keep, that Life to win, Whose joys eternal flow. A PRAYER. RANT me, great Lord, Thy graces three, – Faith, and Hope, and Charity : Faith, that on the cross relies, And trusts but in Thy sacrifice ; Hope, that, when by woe Opprest, Points upward to a heavenly rest; And last, the greatest of the three, O ! give me gentle Charity : To suffer all ; to know no pride ; To strive another's faults to hide ; To answer with a soothing Smile When men with angry words revile ; To envy not that happiness Thy hand denies me to possess ; The rich man’s wealth to covet not, Though poverty should be my lot. Teach me through every earthly ill To be submissive to Thy will ; And let me of Thy grace receive As I my enemies forgive ; Then Faith, and Hope, and Charity Will lead me on to heaven through Thee. “RORES, FLORES.” WHEN April showers Wake up the flowers From their long winter’s sleep, The crocus starts, The rose-bud parts, The fragrant violets peep. When tear-drops fall At sorrow’s call On penitential heart, The perfect peace That shall not cease, Like flowers in spring, will start. THE WEDDED FLAGS. ANG Out that glorious old red cross | Hang out the stripes and stars They faced each other fearlessly In two historic wars. But now the Ocean circlet binds The bridegroom and the bride : Old England, young America JDisplay them side by side. High up from Trinity's tall spire We’ll fling the banners out : Hear how the world-wide welkin rings With that exulting shout Forever wave, those wedded flags, As proudly now they wave God for the lands His love has blessed, The beauteous and the brave. But see the dallying wind the stars About the cross has blown ; And see, again, the cross around The stars its folds has thrown. Was ever sign so beautiful Hung from the heavens abroad? Old England, young America — For freedom and for God. Page Missing in Original Volume Page Missing in Original Volume HIS TO RIC HYMNIS T.S. I 55 CARDINAL JOHN H. NEWMAN. THE excellent portrait opposite represents Cardinal Newman at the age of ſorty-four. Most of the facts of this sketch are derived from his “Apologia Pro Vita Sua.” He was born in London, February 2 1, 1801, was brought up to read the Bible and to study his catechism. Before his conversion, which took place when he was fifteen, he was very superstitious, and had a habit, where learned he could not say, of Crossing himself On going into the dark. As early as 18 I I he decorated the first page of his verse-book with a Roman cross and a set of beads; so true is it that the child is father of the man. Newman was graduated at Trinity College, Oxford, in 1820, and two years later was made a Fellow of Oriel. He took orders in 1824. In 1828 he became vicar of the Church of Saint Mary the Virgin, Oxford. Before his ordination he had accepted the doctrine of “baptismal regeneration,” had adopted free views upon inspiration, and had learned that the Bible was never intended to teach doctrine ; that to learn doctrine we must go to the “Catechism " and the “Creeds.” He does not think to tell us where Christian doctrine resided before a catechism was written, or a creed formulated. While a tutor at Oriel he became acquainted with John Keble and Hurrell Froude. From the latter, he says, he learned to admire the Church of Rome, to dislike the Refor- mation, and to entertain an idea of deep devotion to the Virgin Mary. He claimed also that the Church of England taught “penance ’’ in its commination service, “confession and absolution ” in its visitation of the sick, Sacramentarianism in its ordination, and the “real presence" in its communion. He believed that the episcopacy was ordained of God. “My Bishop,” he wrote, “was my Pope; the successor of the Apostles, the Vicar of Christ.” It is evident that Newman never was a Protestant; he scorned the very name. He was an Anglican, a neuter something that was neither Protestant nor Catholic. He walked in a via media, but in the sequel found that his middle way led to Rome. While a young man he had believed and taught that the Pope was Antichrist. This view he gradually surrendered, and in February, 1843, he recanted all that he had said against the Pope. The September following he resigned his position as vicar of St. Mary's, and two years later was received into the Roman Catholic Church. He was im- mediately honored with places of responsibility, and in 1879 was made a Cardinal. He died in London, August I I, 1890. “Lead, kindly Light,” his finest lyric, was written in 1833. “Praise to the Holiest in the height º’ is from a dramatic poem written in 1865. The other selection is from “Lyra Apostolica,” 1836. GREA T H YMN WRITERS. LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT. LEAD kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on The night is dark, and I am far from home ; Lead Thou me on Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene ; One step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me on ; I loved to choose and see my path ; but In OW Lead Thou me on I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still Will lead me on O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone, And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile ! PRAISE. RAISE to the Holiest in the height, And in the depth be praise ; In all His words most wonderful, Most sure in all His ways. O loving wisdom of Our God When all was sin and shame, A second Adam to the fight And to the rescue came. O wisest love that flesh and blood, Which did in Adam fail, Should strive afresh against the foe, – Should strive and should prevail. From fear of what was wrong ; I would not brave the Sacred fight, Because the foe was strong. But now I cast that finer sense ºf And sorer shame aside ; Such dread of sin was indolence, Such aim at Heaven was pride. And that a higher gift than grace Should flesh and blood refine, God's presence and His very self, And essence all divine. O generous love that He, who smote In Man for man the foe, The double agony in Man For man should undergo ; And in the garden secretly, And on the cross on high, Should teach His brethren, and inspire To suffer and to die. ſ SENSITIVENESS. TIME was I shrank from what was right, So when my Saviour calls, I rise And calmly do my best; Leaving to Him, with silent eyes Of hope and fear, the rest. step, I mount where He has led ; Men count my haltings—eler—— know iº: lead, I love-tiis precept more. BETHUNE, GEORGE W. is not death to die." Author of “It HIS TO RIC HYMNIST.S. I59 | REW. GEORGE W. BETHUNE, D.D. DR. HATFIELD, in “Poets of the Church,” begins his sketch of this man as follows: “The Rev. George W. Bethune, I). D., the Christian gentleman, the ripe scholar, the graceful poet, and the eloquent divine, was born in the city of New York, March 18, 1805.” Bethune was blessed with parents who understood the responsibilities of their relation, and who believed in prayer. A parent can obtain almost anything for a child in answer to prayer. As an illustration of this claim, we give a brief passage from a prayer of Dr. Bethune's father for his infant son : “Make him a faithful minister of Jesus Christ. Give him a contented mind, a thankful heart. May he declare the whole counsel of God ; and while he is faithful and sound in his doctrine, do Thou grant him to be eloquent, animated, impressive, and acceptable. I ask this, for Thou art able to grant all I can ask.” According to Dr. Bethune’s friends and biographers that prayer was answered. He studied three years at Columbia College, but was graduated at Dickinson, in 1823. He was ordained in 1827, and served several prominent parishes in the Reformed Dutch Church. In 1838 he received the degree of D.D. from the University of Penn- sylvania. His natural talents were uncommon, his educational advantages Superior, and he made good use of both. Dr. Bethune was a natural poet ; his “Lays Of Love and Faith,” 1847, contain many compositions of more than ordinary merit. He died at Florence, Italy, on Sunday, April 27, 1862, of congestion of the brain. He had preached the same day from Matt. ix. 2, “Be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee.” It was while thinking over this sermon on the day before his death that he wrote the first hymn given below. It was his last personal testimony. “It is not death to die,” is a fine translation from the French of the Rev. H. A. Caesar Malan. ** - - - HE DIED FOR ME. HEN time seems short and death is His name is Jesus, and He died, near, For guilty sinners crucified ; And I am pressed by doubt and fear, Content to die that He might win And sins, an overflowing tide, Assail my peace on every side, -v- * This thought my refuge still shall be, No sinner worse than I can be, I know the Saviour died for me. Therefore I know He died for me. Their ransom from the death of sin : I6O G RE 4 T H YMN WRITERS. If grace were bought, I could not buy ; If grace were coined, no wealth have I; By grace alone I draw my breath, Held up from everlasting death ; Yet, since I know His grace is free, I know the Saviour died for me. I read God's holy word and find Great truths which far transcend my mind ; And little do I know beside Of thoughts so high, so deep, SO wide ; This is my best theology, I know the Saviour died for me. My faith is weak, but ’tis Thy gift; Thou canst my helpless soul uplift, And say, “Thy bonds of death are riven, Thy sins by Me are all forgiven ; And thou shalt live from guilt set free, For I, thy Saviour, died for thee.” IT IS NOT DEATH TO DIE. T is not death to die, To leave this weary road, And, midst the brotherhood on high, To be at home with God. It is not death to close The eye long dimmed by tears, And wake in glorious repose, To spend eternal years. It is not death to bear The wrench that sets us free From dungeon-chain, to breathe the air Of boundless liberty. It is not death to fling Aside this sinful dust, And rise on strong, exulting wing, To live among the just. Jesus, thou Prince of Life, Thy chosen cannot die Like Thee, they conquer in the strife, To reign with Thee On high. | HYMN FOR EASTER. 'TIS He ’tis He I know Him now, By the red scars upon His brow, His wounded hands, and feet, and side, – My Lord my God the Crucified Those hands have rolled the Stone away; Those feet have trod the path to-day ; And round that brow triumphant shine The rays of majesty divine. O, from those hands uplifted, shed Thy blessing on my fainting head; And, as I clasp those feet, impart The love that gushed from out Thy heart Thy death upon the cross be mine, My life from mortal sin be thine, And mine the way Thy feet have trod, To reign in heaven with Thee, my God. CHRISTMAS HYMN. F()R CHILDREN. E come, we come, with loud acclaim, To sing the praise of Jesus' name ; And make the vaulted temple ring With loud hosannahs to our King. With thrilling pulse and smiling face We gather round the throne of grace, And lowly bend to offer there, From infant lips, our Christmas prayer, To Him who slept on Mary's knee, A gentle child, as young as we. We come, we come, the song to swell, To Him who loved our world so well, That, stooping from his Father's throne, He died to claim it as his own. And now the holy aisles we fill, Yet youthful bands are gathering still ; (), thus may we in heaven above Unite in praises and in love ; While happy angels fill their home With joyful cry, “They come, they come !” JOHN G. WHITTIER, Ruthor of Our Master," HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. I63 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. HIS widely known and loved poet was born in Haverhill, Mass., December 17, 1807. He was educated in the public schools, was a Friend in religion, and a journalist by profession. The venerable poet once said to the writer that he had not attempted hymn-writing, because he was no musician, and did not know what was singable. He succeeded admirably, however, without trying; the hymn editors have utilized a large number of his poems in their books. Mr. Whittier's residence was at Amesbury, Mass. He died September 7, 1892. His finest religious poem, from which several excellent hymns have been made, is “Our Master,” which we give by permission of his publishers, Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, & Co., Boston. 0U R MASTER. MMORTAL Love, forever full, Nor holy bread, nor blood of grape, Forever flowing free, The lineaments restore Forever shared, forever whole, Of Him we know in outward shape A never-ebbing sea And in the flesh no more. He cometh not a king to reign : The world’s long hope is clim ; The weary centuries watch in vain Our outward lips confess the name All other names above ; Love only knoweth whence it came, And comprehendeth love. The clouds of heaven for Him. Blow, winds of God, awake and blow Death comes, life goes ; the asking eye The mists of earth away ! And ear are answerless ; Shine out, O Light Divine, and show The grave is dumb, the hollow sky How wide and far we stray Is Sad with silentness. Hush every lip, close every book, The letter fails, and systems fall, The strife of tongues forbear ; And every symbol wanes; Why forward reach, or backward look The Spirit over-brooding all For love that clasps like air? Eternal Love remains. We may not climb the heavenly steeps And not for signs in heaven above To bring the Lord Christ down : Or earth below they look, 8 In vain we search the lowest deeps, - Who know with John His smile or love, For Him no depths can drown. With Peter His rebuke. I64 G R E A T H YMN WRITERS. In joy of inward peace, or sense Of sorrow over sin, He is His own best evidence, His witness is within. No fable old, nor mythic lore, Nor dream of bards and seers, Nor dead fact stranded on the shore Of the oblivious years; — But warm, sweet, tender, even yet A present help is He ; And faith has still its Olivet, And love its Galilee. The healing of His seamless dress Is by our beds of pain ; We touch Him in life's throng and press, And we are whole again. Through Him the first fond prayers are said Our lips of childhood frame, The last low whispers of our dead Are burdened with His name. O Lord and Master of us all ! Whate'er Our name or sign, We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call, We test our lives by Thine. Thou judgest us ; Thy purity Doth all our lusts condemn ; The love that draws us nearer Thee Is hot with wrath to them. Our thoughts lie open to Thy sight; And, naked to Thy glance, Our secret sins are in the light Of Thy pure countenance. Thy healing pains a keen distress Thy tender light shines in ; Thy sweetness is the bitterness, Thy grace the pang of sin. Yet weak and blinded though we be, Thou dost our service own ; We bring our varying gifts to Thee, And Thou rejectest none. Ç e wº 2- --- - ,-- - - ex i • - - - ..; *T, * ---, * - i- 3 * . - . º *. - -- " -- . - r * - _. * *...*.*- : ... . • J . - *...* e T - : 2° wº- g --~~ - . . . . . . |%. evº- à Mºe ſtead ºve - * tº Kºbe. . -- Ywov, d.o.º. Tºº-º-º- if c ' ' ' 'vº No pride of self Thy service hath, No place for me and mine ; Our human strength is weakness, death Our life, apart from Thine. Apart from Thee all gain is loss, All labor vainly done ; The solemn shadow of Thy Cross Is better than the sun. Alone, O Love ineffable ! Thy saving name is given ; To turn aside from Thee is hell, To walk with Thee is heaven How vain, secure in all Thou art, Our noisy championship ! The sighing of the contrite heart Is more than flattering lip. Not Thine the bigot's partial plea, Nor Thine the zealot's ban ; Thou well canst spare a love of Thee Which ends in hate of man. Our Friend, Our Brother, and Our Lord, What may Thy service be? Nor name, nor form, nor ritual word, But simply following Thee. We bring no ghastly holocaust, We pile no graven stone ; He serves Thee best who loveth most His brothers and Thy own. Thy litanies, sweet offices Of love and gratitude ; Thy Sacramental liturgies, The joy of doing good. In vain shall waves of incense drift The vaulted nave around, In vain the minster turret lift Its brazen weights of sound. The heart must ring Thy Christmas bells, Thy inward altars raise ; Its faith and hope Thy canticles, And its obedience praise ! w y - 22 wº ſ H-. - * * - º: : - W }^M v. sex * * * * * • L^ CA.” AAA-T \, , , \. º - * , - -* tº a ‘z iſ, . . . . . . . / H& 23 A * * p ~ * 2 : & i’’ ... - -- ", , < * , - i. * H ~ .*** * , # -- ~ | " … ', vºl. C. * * * * . . ) § {r- yº & N tºº, \% a 3 *. ✉ §§ ģ- -*- žZ•?;ſae（ 3 ）· Ō . C. cº - d. , , , , º ~} . . ~~ * THYLOR, THON FMS R. Ruthor of “ Heaven is my home.” HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. 167 REW. THOMAS RAWSON TAYLOR. & & HEAVEN is My Home '' is a scriptural and happily written spiritual song. It has had a wide circulation, and is counted a favorite by many people. The author of this hymn was the son of an English Independent minister, born in Ossett, Yorkshire, in 1807. He early manifested a fondness for poetry, and wrote some ambitious pieces while a school-boy in his “ teens.” He attended the grammar School at Bradford, where his father was pastor, and subsequently, for three years, a private School near Manchester. At the age of fifteen he entered a counting-house at Bradford, where he remained two years. While an apprentice in a printing and bookselling business in Nottingham he ex- perienced a change of heart, and soon after felt a strong desire to enter the ministry. In- his private—iournal he wrote out a deed of consecration, which not only included body, soul, and spirit, but specified such items as eyes, ears, tongue, hands, and feet. In September, 1826, he entered the Independent College at Idle, and graduated in 1830. Before he had completed his college course, he received a call as pastor of the Howard-street Church, Sheffield. Within two years he was compelled, by ill-health, to resign. He subsequently accepted the position of classical tutor in his A//la Maſer, but his promising career was interrupted by consumption. He died in the faith, March 7, 1835, and found a home in that heaven of which he wrote SO charmingly. We subjoin several of his hymns. If he had lived longer, he doubtless would have given the church many valuable Christian Songs. x HEAVEN IS MY HOME. IM but a stranger here, What though the tempests rage Heaven is my home : Heaven is my home : Earth is a desert drear, Short is my pilgrimage; Heaven is my home : Heaven is my home; Danger and sorrow stand And time's wild wintry blast Round me on every hand; Soon will be overpast : Heaven is my fatherland, I shall reach home at last : Heaven is my home. Heaven is my home. I 68 G REA T H YMN W/ R.I.T.E.R.S. There at my Saviour's side, Heaven is my home : I shall be glorified ; Heaven is my home : There are the good and blest, Those I loved most and best : And there I, too, shall rest ; Heaven is my home. Therefore I murmur not, Heaven is my home : Whate'er my earthly lot, Heaven is my home : And I shall surely stand There at my Lord’s right hand ; Heaven is my fatherland, Heaven is my home. CONSECRATION. ORD ! who has bled and died for me ! I thankfully resign All that I am and have, to be Now and forever Thine. Take Thou possession of my soul, And all its sin subdue ; Its pride abase, its lusts control, And fashion all things new. Oft have I vowed that I would give To Thee my mortal days; That to Thy honor I would live, And, dying, speak Thy praise. But ah how oft my vows I broke, My best resolves forgot; And, though my dying Saviour spoke, My heart regarded not. Yet turn, oh turn me, gracious God And leave me not to die ; From the vile paths which I have trod I would forever fly. And here again I give to Thee This guilty soul of mine ; In time, and through eternity, Oh, make and keep me Thine ! GOD IS LOWE. A" I feel, and hear, and see, God of love, is full of Thee Earth, with her ten thousand flowers — Air with all its beams and showers— Ocean's infinite expanse — Heaven's resplendent countenance — All around and all above, Hath this record — “God is love.” Sounds, among the vales and hills, In the woods and by the rills, Of the breeze and of the bird, By the gentle summer stirred ; — All these songs, beneath, above, Have one burden — “God is love.” All the hopes and fears that start From the fountain of the heart; All the quiet bliss that lies In Our human sympathies; — These are voices from above, Sweetly whispering — “God is love.” All I feel, and hear, and see, God of love, is full of Thee HYMN TO THE SAWIOUR. AVIOUR and Lord Of all ! We lift our souls to Thee : Guide us and guard us, Wher'e'er we be When we are full of grief, Victims of anxious fear, Give Thou our hearts relief; Jesus, be near ! Brighten our darkest hour, Till the last hour shall come ; Then in Thy love and power Oh, take us home ! Glorious deliverer How long wilt Thou delay ! Saviour, gracious Saviour ! 3ear us away ! SHMUEL FRANCIS SMITH, Huthor of "My country, 'tis of thee” HIS TO RIC H Y MN/S T.S. 171 REW. SAMUEL FRANCIS SMITH, D.D. NE of the most talented and successful of American hymnists is the Rev. Dr. Smith. He was born in Boston, 1808, was graduated at Harvard College in 1829, and three years later at Andover Theological School. It was while at Andover that he wrote his first hymns, among them the highly prized National Ode, “My country, 'tis of thee;” which seems to grow in popularity even faster than our country increases in wealth and population. It is not only patriotic and poetic, but pious ; the last stanza is a direct address to IDeity. Mr. Smith was ordained in 1834 as pastor of the First Baptist Church at Water- ville, Me. He was at the same time a professor in Colby University. In 1842 he ºr became Das * First Bapti. * r * * X w. Tº r ass- In 1854 Dr. Smith re- signed his pastorate and engaged in editorial and literary work. In 1843, in connection with Rev. Baron Stowe, he edited “The Psalmist,” a valuable collection of hymns which had a wide circulation. To this work several of his best hymns were contributed. He } published “Rock of Ages: Original and Select Poems,” in 1870. The first hymn, “God with us,” was contributed to this work in November, 1891. “God All in All" was first sung at the Boston Monday–Leetºtre+Premrºſſſt fempte, fety- ruary 24, 1890. } is a personal favorite with Dr. Smith. --- - - $toſ. Saladº Now 16, 131st. “Ye are not your own GOD WITH U.S. GOD ALL IN ALL. ORD of our life, God whom we fear, ()I) of all grace, Supreme, alone, Unknown, yet '...nown ; unseen, yet Thy robe, the light ; the heavens, Thy near ; throne ; Breath of Our breath, in Thee we live, The winds, Thy voice ; Thy path, the sea, Life of our life, our praise receive. Reverent we bow and worship Thee. Thine eye detects the sparrow's fall, In all Thy works Thy hand we trace, Thy heart of love expands for all ; Creation does but veil Thy face; Our throbbing life is full of Thee, Thy life, our life; Thy warmth, our spring : Throned in Thy vast infinity. Our only rest, Thy sheltering wing. Shine in our darkness, Light of light, Thy breath makes every pulse-beat thrill, Our minds illume, disperse our night ; We feel the whispers of Thy will ; Make us responsive to Thy will, We come, we go, at Thy command, Our souls with all Thy fulness fill. We wait the waving of Thy hand. | We love Thy name, we heed Thy rod, Plant in our hearts Thy love and fear, Thy word, Our law ; our guide, Thy nod ; Teach us Thy precepts to revere ; We wait Thy will, on Thee we call, And fashion us, through grace, to be (Our light, our life, our God, our all. But living temples, meet for Thee. I 72 |WRITERS. G R FA T H YMN YE ARE NOT YOUR OWN. O not my own these verdant hills, , And fruits and flowers, and stream and wood, But His, who all with glory fills, Who bought me with His precious blood. O, not my own this wondrous frame, Its curious work, its living soul, But His, who for my ransom came, Slain for my sake, He claims the whole. O, not my own the grace that keeps My feet from fierce temptations free : O, not my own the thought that leaps, Adoring, blessed Lord, to Thee. O, “not my own,” I’ll soar and sing, When life with all its toils is o'er ; And Thou Thy trembling lamb shall bring Safe home, to wander never more. AMERICA. MY country ’tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing: Land where my fathers died Land of the pilgrims' pride From every mountain side Let freedom ring ! My native country, thee, Land of the noble, free, Thy name I love ; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills: My heart with rapture thrills Like that above. Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song: Let mortal tongues awake ; Let all that breathe partake ; Let rocks their silence break, The sound prolong. Our fathers' God to Thee, Author of liberty, To Thee we sing: Long may our land be bright With freedom's holy light; Protect us by Thy might, Great God, our King ! SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL. TH: 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 answers brings, And heavenly gales are blowing With peace upon their wings. See heathen nations bending Before the God we love, And thousand hearts ascending In gratitude above ; While sinners, now confessing, The gospel call obey, And seek the Saviour's blessing, A nation in a day. Blest river of salvation, Pursue thine 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 !” B O S T O N H Y MIN. THY KINGDOM COME. SUNG AT PARK STREET CHURCH, AT THE 239TH BosTON MONDAY LECTURE, FEBRUARY 19, 189. TUNE : Missionary Chant. Thy kingdom come, immortal King ! Thy right maintain, Thy power display: Earth's myriads to Thy footstool bring ; Make all the nations own Thy sway. Come with the eagle's daring flight, Conquer the hosts of death and sin ; Flood the whole globe with holy light, O kingdom of our God, come in Come as the swelling tides that break In mighty waves on every strand ; Kingdom of God, in triumph wake O'er every sea, o'er every land. We wait Thy breath, immortal Dove Speak to earth's woes Thy healing word; Come, wafted on the wings of love, Make all the nations own Thee Lord. Thy kingdom come; rise, Saviour, rise; Assume Thy power; ascend Thy throne; Till universal Nature cries, “Strike the glad hour—the work is done !” S. F. SMITH. FEBRUARY 5, 1894. RRY PRLMER, Author of “My faith looks up to Thee." HIS TO RIC H YMN IS T.S. I75 REW. RAY PALMER, D.D. AY PALMER was born in Little Compton, R.I., in 1808. He prepared for college at Phillips Academy, Andover, and was graduated at Yale in 1830. Sub- sequently he took a theological course at New Haven. In 1835 he was ordained pastor of the Central Congregational Church, Bath, Me. In 1850 he became pastor of the First Congregational Church, Albany, N. Y. He served this church until 1865, when he removed to New York, and became Corresponding Secretary of the American Congregational Union. He died March 29, 1887. Dr. Palmer was the author of several books of poetry which contain valuable contributions to hymnology. He was not only a writer of original hymns, but, what is even more difficult, a Successful translator. His most valuable translations are “Jesus, Thou joy of TOWIT Tearts” (/es// Dºlceaſo cord//n), and “Come, Holy Ghost, in love” (Veni, Samcze Sºirſ/r/s). “My faith looks up to Thee” is one of the grandest hymns ever written in any y age or tongue. The original title was “Self-consecration," and the Secret of its value is found, in part, at least, in its history. It was written in New York in 1830, in an hour, says the author, “when Christ, in the riches of His grace and love, was so vividly apprehended as to fill the soul with deep emotion.” It was a genuine heart-song, and was copied into a small pocket note-book by Mr. Palmer for his own use. Two years later he gave it to Lowell Mason, who wrote the tune. “Olivet.” for it, and published it in “Spiritual Songs for Social Worship,” 1832. Dr. Mason had a high opinion of the production from the first, and said to the author: “Mr. Palmer, you may live many years and do many good things, but I think you will be best known to posterity as the author of ‘My faith looks up to Thee.’” The author's version of this great hymn is here given, with other valuable pro- ductions of his pen, by the kind permission of Dr. Charles Ray Palmer, owner of copyright. FAITH. MY faith looks up to Thee, May Thy rich grace impart Thou Lamb of Calvary, Strength to my fainting heart, Saviour divine : My zeal inspire ; Now hear me while I pray, As Thou hast died for me, Take all my guilt away, O may my love to Thee O let me from this day Pure, warm, and changeless be, --- Be wholly Thine. A living fire. 176 G R EA T H YMN W/ RI TERS. While life’s dark maze I tread, And griefs around me spread, Be Thou my guide ; Bid darkness turn to day, Wipe sorrow’s tears away, Nor let me ever stray From Thee aside. When ends life's transient dream, When death’s cold, sullen stream Shall o'er me roll; Blest Saviour, then, in love, Fear and distrust remove ; O bear me safe above, – A ransomed Soul. UNSEEN, NOT UNKNOWN. ESUS, these eyes have never seen Thine image ever fills my thought, That radiant form of Thine ; And charms my ravished soul. The veil of sense hangs dark between Thy blessed face and mine. Yet though I have not seen, and still Must rest in faith alone, I love Thee, dearest Lord, and will, Unseen, but not unknown. I see Thee not, I hear Thee not, Yet art Thou oft with me ; And earth hath ne’er so dear a spot As where I meet with Thee. r When death these mortal eyes shall seal, Like some bright dream that comes un- sought, When slumbers o'er me roll, And still this throbbing heart, The rending veil shall Thee reveal All glorious as Thou art. COME, HOLY GHOST. CoMº. Holy Ghost, in love Shed on us from above Thine own bright ray ! Divinely good Thou art ; Thy sacred gifts impart To gladden each sad heart; O, come to-day ! Come, tenderest Friend, and best, Our most delightful guest, With soothing power : Rest, which the weary know, Shade, 'mid the noontide glow, Peace, when deep griefs o'erflow, - Cheer us this hour ! Come, Light serene, and still Our inmost bosoms fill ; Dwell in each breast : We know no dawn but Thine; Send forth Thy beams divine On Our dark souls to shine, And make us blest Exalt our low desires Extinguish passion’s fires : Heal every wound : Our stubborn spirits bend, Our icy coldness end, Our devious steps attend, While heavenward bound. Come, all the faithful bless; Let all, who Christ confess, His praise employ : Give virtue’s rich reward, Victorious death accord, And, with Our glorious Lord, Eternal joy. BONFIR HORRTIUS “I lay my sins on Jesus f Ruthor o HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. I79 REV. HORATIUS BONAR, D.D. NE of the saintliest men and sweetest singers of the nineteenth century was Dr. Bonar, of Scotland. He was born in Edinburgh, December 19, 1808, and educated in the High School and University of his native city. In 1837 he became the pastor of the Presbyterian church in Kelso, near the English border. When the Free Church of - *** -ā- C WQLS ized in 18- J.I. Hj O]] QI W31S Oll C - T] ( e 'ith it. Scotland was organized in 1843, Dr. Bonar was one of the clergymen who united with it He belonged to the pietistie-school, and was a successful evangelist, as well as a faithful and beloved pastor. He looked for the speedy second coming of the Master, and his poems are colored decidedly by his theological-le". In 1866 he became pastor of the WNſ —Chalmers-Memorial-Church in Edinburgh. He died in 1889. Among the most familiar of his hymns are “Beyond the smiling and the weeping I shall be soon,” and “I heard the voice of Jesus say, ‘Come unto me and rest.’” SUBSTITUTE. I LAY my sins on Jesus, The spotless Lamb of God ; He bears them all and frees us From the accursèd load. I bring my guilt to Jesus, To wash my crimson stains White in His blood most precious, Till not a stain remains. I lay my wants on Jesus; All fulness dwells in Him. He heals all my diseases, He doth my soul redeem. I lay my griefs on Jesus, My burdens and my cares; He from them all releases, He all my sorrows shares. I rest my soul on Jesus, This weary soul of mine ; His right hand me embraces, I on His breast recline. I love the name of Jesus, Immanuel, Christ, the Lord. Like fragrance on the breezes, His name abroad is poured. I long to be like Jesus, Meek, loving, lowly, mild ; I long to be like Jesus, The Father's holy child. I long to be with Jesus' Amid the heavenly throng, To sing with saints His praises, To learn the angels' Song. I8O G REA T H YMN WA ITERS. HEAVENLY SOWING. OWER divine ! Sow the good seed in me, Seed for eternity. 'Tis a rough, barren soil, Yet by Thy care and toil, Make it a fruitful field, A hundredfold to yield. Sower divine, Plough up this heart of mine. Sower divine ! Quit not this wretched field Till Thou hast made it yield ; Sow Thou by day and night, In darkness and in light. Stay not Thy hand, but sow ; Then shall the harvest grow. Sower divine, Sow deep this heart of mine. Sower divine ! Let not this barren clay Lead Thee to turn away; Let not my fruitlessness Provoke Thee not to bless; Let not this field be dry, Refresh it from on high. Sower divine, | Water this heart of mine. REDEEM THE TIME. Dºi worketh, Let me work too ; Death undoeth, Let me do. Busy as death my work I ply, Till I rest in the rest of eternity. Time worketh, Let me work too; Time undoeth, Let me do. LORY be to God the Father, Glory be to God the Son, Glory be to God the Spirit, Great Jehovah, Three in One ; Glory, glory, While eternal ages run Glory be to Him who loved us, Washed us from each spot and stain ; Glory be to Him who bought us, Made us kings with Him to reign ; Glory, glory, To the Iamb that once was slain. Busy as time my work I ply, Till I rest in the rest of eternity. Sin worketh, Let me work too ; Sin undoeth, Let me do. Busy as sin my work I ply, Till I rest in the rest of eternity. PRAISE. Glory to the King of angels, | Glory to the church's King, Glory to the King of nations, Heaven and earth your praises bring; Glory, glory, To the King of glory bring ! Glory, blessing, praise eternal Thus the choir of angels sings: Honor, riches, power, dominion Thus its praise creation brings; Glory, glory, Glory to the King of kings. MRRY D. J.RMES, Author of “ Hll for Jesus HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. - 183 MRS. MARY D. JAMES. HE author of “All for Jesus” was born in Trenton, N.J., August 7, 18 Io. Her mother, alive to her responsibilities, prayed without ceasing for her child, and named her “Mary,” with the hope that she might sit at the feet of Jesus. When she was ten years old she was converted in a Methodist revival, and soon after joined the church. Two years later, by a complete consecration, and “effectual, fervent prayer,” she sought and found that “perfect love } } which casteth out fear. In 1834 she married, and the usual domestic cares, and more than the usual measure of ill-health, followed, but withal she was happy and useful. By personal effort in the Sunday-school, in temperance reform, and the ladies' prayer-meeting, she found opportunities to work for Jesus. At the suggestion of her pastor, Mrs. James prepared the story of her early life. The book, entitled “Mary ; or, the Young Christian,” was published in New York, and made a valuable Sunday-school library volume. She also Monroe ; or, the Shining Path, & Aſſ wrote “Mother ; , and contributed numerous articles to periodicals. Upon entering the new year, 1871, Mrs. James wrote the most widely known and valuable of her hymns, “All for Jesus.” As a hymn of consecration it has no superior in the language. The loving labor of Mrs. James for the good of others, and for the promo- Tön of Christianity, continued until she was translated, October 3, 1883. In an editorial notice of her death, “The Christian Advocate ’’ of October 18, 1883, said : “Her life during the greater part of her more than Seventy years was ‘ hiſ with Christ in God.' Spirituality was her normal state ; her soul was ever wrapped in di TTTTTTºm- her words ‘fitly chosen ' expressed the elevated conceptions so as to suggest the Scriptural figure of “apples of gold in pictures of silver.’” The life of Mrs. James, written by her son, Rev. J. H. James, was published by Palmer & Hughes, New York, 1886. ALL FOR JESUS. LL for Jesus all for Jesus ! Let my lips speak forth His praise. All my being's ransomed powers; All for Jesus all for Jesus All my thoughts, and words, and doings, Let my lips Speak forth His praise. - S 2 y S’’: y | All my days and all my hours. ~< * All for Jesus all for Jesus Since my eyes were fixed on Jesus, All my days and all my hours. w I've lost sight of all beside 5 So enchained my spirit's vision, Let my hands perform His bidding, | Ooking at t ~ * Let my feet run in His ways, All for Jesus all for Jesus ! Let my eyes see Jesus only, Looking at the Crucified. I84 G R E A T H YMN WRITERS. Oh, what wonder how amazing ! Jesus, glorious King of kings, Deigns to call me His beloved, Lets me rest beneath His wings. All for Jesus all for Jesus ! Resting now beneath His wings. COMPANIONSHIP WITH JESUS. O BLESSEI) fellowship divine ! O joy supremely sweet ! Companionship with Jesus here Makes life with bliss replete ; In union with the Purest One, I find my heaven on earth begun. O wondrous bliss () joy sublime ! I’ve Jesus with me all the time. I’m walking close to Jesus' side, So close that I can hear The softest whispers of His love, In fellowship so dear, And feel His great Almighty hand Protects me in this hostile land. () wondrous bliss () joy sublime ! I've Jesus with me all the time. TRUST LOVE to trust in Jesus, My Saviour so adored ; A solid rock beneath my feet Is His unfailing word. I know this firm foundation, And feel I'm so secure, His precious word is tried and proved, His promises are sure When arms of flesh are failing, And earth seems cold and drear, I love to trust in His strong arm, For then He draws so near. In deepest midnight darkness, When not a star I see, The harder then I lean on Him, For then He's nearest me. And when the raging billows Are threatening to O'erwhelm, I love to trust in Jesus then, For He is at the helm. IN I'm leaning on His loving breast, Along life's weary way, My path, illumined by His smile, Grows brighter day by day; No woes, no foes, my heart can fear, With my Almighty Friend so near. () wondrous bliss O joy sublime ! I’ve Jesus with me all the time. I know His sheltering wings of love Are always o'er me spread : And though the storms may fiercely rage All calm and free from dread, My peaceful spirit ever sings, “I’ll trust the covert of His wings.” O wondrous bliss () joy sublime ! I've Jesus with me all the time. JESUS. Though clouds obscure His presence, I know He's just as near ; And still I trust His changeless love, And will not yield to fear. I love to trust in Jesus In life's bewildering maze, When not one step ahead I see In all the (levious ways ; For well I know He leads me, I feel His mighty hand Is holding mine each step I take Through all this hostile land. And when, in life's last conflict, My heart and flesh shall fail, - When o'er this frail mortality The last foe shall prevail, Oh ! then I'll trust in Jesus, The glorious, conquering King ! Who vanquished the destroyer Death And took away his sting. HENRY ALFORD, Author of "Ten thousand times ten thousand.” HIS TO RIC H YMN IS T.S. 187 A ... " - g $ . * * . . . * { - - : # * , º, .. . . . . . . . . . . / " ' ** & t’. - - -- sº * * *", * > . r ... - . ! # REW HENRY ALFORD, D.D. HIS distinguished divine and author was born in London, October 7, 18 Io. His father was a lawyer at the time, but subsequently studied theology and entered the Church. Henry was literary from a very early age, and when about eleven, wrote several hymns. A stanza from one of them will be appreciated by every one who has ever been a “school-boy : ” “As when a school-boy longing for his home, Leaps forth for gladness when the hour is come ; So true believers, eager for the skies, Released by death, on wings of triumph rise.” Sunday, November 18, 1827, he wrote in his Bible : “I do this day, as in the presence of God and my own soul, renew my covenant with God, and solemnly determine henceforth to become His, and do His work as far as in me lies.” . Q In 1828 he entered Cambridge, and was graduated in 1832. He was ordained % 4. +, \ a deacon in 1833, and a priest the following year. In 1835 he was married, and Q became vicar of Wymeswold, which was his home for eighteen years. Mr. Alford TX Gºvva $ removed to London in 1853, that he might enjoy greater facilities in preparing his S-trº Ya d'as Greek Testament, the great work of his life, though he was the author of several vol- umes of sermons and poems. While residing in London he preached at Quebec Chapel. He was appointed Dean of Canterbury in 1857, a position—that allowed him. time for those biblical studies that-he-hºrt-corre-te-eemster-as-the-special signed to him by Providence. New Year's day, 1861, he wrote: “God be praised for all the mercies of another happy year, in which I have been enabled to finish my Greek Testament, the Work of eighteen-years.” The calm and useful life of Dean Alford closed January 12, 1871. He was buried in the churchyard of St. Martin's, Canterbury, supposed to be the oldest church in Eng- land. The tomb is under a wide-spreading yew-tree, and bears the following inscription, written by the Dean : “ DEVERSORIUM VIATORIS HIEROSOLYMAMI PROFICISCENTIS. (I.E., The inn of a traveller on his way to Jerusalem).” The very fine hymns, “Ten thousand times ten thousand,” and “Jesus, when I fainting lie,” were sung at the funeral of the author. I88 GREA T H YMN WRITERS. HYMN OF WICTORY, TEN thousand times ten thousand, O then what raptured greetings In Sparkling raiment bright, On Canaan's happy shore, The armies of the ransomed saints What knitting severed friendships up, Throng up the steeps of light; Where partings are no more 'Tis finished all is finished, Then eyes with joy shall sparkle Their fight with death and sin; That brimmed with tears of late ; Fling Open wide the goiden gates Orphans no longer fatherless, And let the victors in. Nor widows desolate. “What rush of hallelujahs Bring near Thy great Salvation, Fills all the earth and sky Thou Lamb for sinners slain, What ringing of a thousand harps Fill up the roll of Thine elect, Bespeaks the triumph nigh Then take Thy power and reign : O day, for which creation Appear, Desire of nations, – And all its tribes were made Thine exiles long for home ; O joy, for all its former woes Show in the heaven Thy promised sign, A thousandfold repaid Thou Prince and Saviour, come ! DEATH ANTICIPATED. ESUS when I fainting lie, “Weep not ” let the mourner hear, And the world is flitting by, Widow's woe and orphans' tear Hold Thou up my head ; Turn into Song. When the cry is, “Thou must die,” And the dread hour draweth nigh, Jesus ! in the last great day, Stand by my bed Come Thou down and touch my clay, - Speak the word, “Arise ” | Jesus ! when the worst is o'er, Friend to gladsome friend restore, And when they bear me from the door, Living, praising evermore, Meet the Sorrowing throng ; Above the skies. RETURN. ETURN, O wanderer, to thy home ; The Spirit and the Bride say come; Thy Father calls for thee; () now for refuge flee No longer now an exile roam, In guilt and misery. Return, O wanderer, to thy home; 'Tis madness to delay ; Return, O wanderer, to thy home ; There are no pardons in the tomb, 'Tis Jesus calls for thee; And brief is mercy's day. FREDERICK W, FRBER, Huthor of "O Paradise,” HIS TO RIC H YMNIS T.S. IOI REV. FREDERICK W. FABER, D.D. ABER, the son of an English clergyman, was born June 28, 1814. He was educated at Harrow School and Baliol College, Oxford, which he entered in 1832. In 1835, while an undergraduate, he wrote to a friend concerning the ministry: “It seems my destiny; it has thrown a color over all my boyhood; it has been my life's one dream, so much so that I sometimes fancy I am called to it.” He had a natural predilection for verse, and in his graduating year, 1836, won the Newdigate prize over thirty-six competitors; the subject of his poem was “The Knights of St. John.” In January, 1837, he was elected to a fellowship at University College, and at once began to prepare for Orders. He was ordained deacon in August, : 1837, and two years later a priest in the Church of England. At Oxford he became acquainted with Dr. Pusey and John Keble ; he was also an enthusiastic disciple of John Henry Newman. Early in 1843 he was appointed rector of Elton. In April of the same year he made a pilgrimage to Rome, confessedly as a student of Roman Catholic methods. It ***s, * = **** -, -- * * ~... ----- ~ *- : * * conversion, though on his return to England he devoted himself to parish work at Elton for two years before openly confessing his adhesion to the Roman Church. With a few friends Faber organized a community at Birmingham called “ Brothers of the Will of God.” This community was subsequently merged in the “Oratory of St. Philip Neri,” of which John H. Newman was the head. A branch-of-the-Oratory—was wº- - Yaw established in London, over which Father Faber presided until his death, in 1863. $3 sº (O & He was the author of several religious books, but his most valuable and lasting work was his hymns, which are characterized by intense devotion, and express a deep and passionate love of God. For the fine portrait of Faber and the specimens of his hymns we are indebted to John Murphy & Co., Baltimore, publishers of Faber's complete works, G REA T H YMN W/ R.I.T.E.R.S. 10 sketh #1- Ø trut” * Tl, Hidek, 4.44%- …! OUR HEAVENLY Y God how wonderful Thou art, Thy Majesty how bright, How beautiful Thy Mercy-Seat In depths of burning light ! How dread are Thine eternal years, O everlasting Lord By prostrate spirits day and night Incessantly adored. How beautiful, how beautiful The sight of Thee must be, Thine endless wisdom, boundless power, And awful purity Oh how I fear Thee, living God With deepest, tenderest fears, And worship Thee with trembling hope And penitential tears. Yet I may love Thee too, O Lord Almighty as Thou art; MY GOD ! Thy power is wonderful, Thy glory passing bright; Thy wisdom, with its deep on deep, A rapture to the sight. Thy justice is the gladdest thing Creation can behold ; Thy tenderness so meek, it wins The guilty to be bold. Yet more than all, and ever more, Should we Thy creatures bless, Most worshipful of attributes, Thine awful holiness. There's not a craving in the mind Thou dost not meet and still ; There’s not a wish the heart can have Which Thou dost not fulfil. I see Thee in the eternal years In glory all alone, '5avée {j. ...? O cove ---~~~~ *k ºv. Cºfane waſ . ofax-eſo-, wºje Azaïs, FATHER. For Thou hast stooped to ask of me The love of my poor heart. Oh then this worse than worthless heart, In pity deign to take, And make it love Thee, for Thyself And for Thy glory's sake. No earthly father loves like Thee, No mother half so mild Bears and forbears, as Thou hast done, With me, Thy sinful child. Only to sit and think of God, Oh what a joy it is To think the thought, to breathe the name, Earth has no higher bliss. Father of Jesus, love's Reward, What rapture will it be, Prostrate before Thy Throne to lie, And gaze and gaze on Thee. FATHER. Žeaw el. Zo- *::::::::::: * Ere round Thine uncreated fires Created light had shone. I see Thee walk in Eden's shade, I see Thee all through time; Thy patience and compassion seem New attributes sublime. I see Thee when the doom is O'er And Outworn time is done, Still, still incomprehensible, O God yet not alone. Angelic spirits, countless Souls, Of Thee have drunk their fill; And to eternity will drink Thy joy and glory still. From Thee were drawn those worlds of life, The Saviour’s Heart and Soul; And undiminished still, Thy waves Of calmest glory roll. e e ELIZPABETH PRENTISS, PAuthor of “More love to Thee, O Christ,” PHIS TO RIC HYMNIS T.S. I95 MRS. ELIZABETH PRENTISS. LIZABETH PAYSON, daughter of the Rev. Edward Payson, of Saintly—meaaº. was born in Portland, Me, October 26, 1878. When she was twelve years of age she made a public profession of discipleship, and joined a Presbyterian church. She was a bright, sensitive girl, a good student, and lover of reading. While yet a school-girl she wrote contributions, both in prose and verse, which were published in “The Youth's Companion,” Boston. Here is one of them : “What are little babies for P “Can they walk upon their feet? Say ! say ! Say ! Say ! Say ! Say ! Are they good-for-nothing things? Can they even hold themselves? Nay nay nay ! Nay may nay “Can they speak a single word P “What are little babies for P Say ! say ! Say! Say ! Say ! Say ! Can they help their mothers sew? Are they made for us to love? Nay 1 nay nay ! Year ." YEA YEA ” Miss Payson was married in 1845 to the Rev. George Lewis Prentiss, a Presby- terian clergyman, and resided in New Bedford, Mass., and then in New York, as a pastor's wife. She was the author of a number of books. The “Susy " books and several others were written for children, whom she dearly loved. “The Flower of the Family,” 1856, was received with great favor, both at home and abroad, and was the foundation of her literary fame. “Stepping Heavenward," 1809, was still more popular. It had a large sale in America, and was reprinted in England, France, and Germany. Mrs. Prentiss' hymns appeared in 1873, under the title “Religious Poems,” which was afterwards changed to “Golden Hours.” Her best-loved hymn, “More love to Thee, O Christ,” is a gem of a prayer-song that will not soon be forgotten. It was written for her own use, and her biographer says, “She did not show it, not even to her husband, until many years after it was written ; and she wondered not a little that, when published, it met with so much favor.” “Alone with God'' is a heart-song worthy of a place in the memory of the reader. “Nearer” is a genuine hymn ; “At Jesus' Feet,” a real poem. —S& I96 G R E A T H YMN WRITERS. ALONE WITH GOD. INTo my closet fleeing, as a dove Doth homeward flee, I haste away to ponder o'er Thy love Alone with Thee. In the dim wood, by human ear unheard, Joyous and free, Amid the busy city, throned and gay, But One I see, Tasting sweet peace, as unobserved I pray Alone with Thee . Oh happy life Life hid with Christ in God ; So making me, Lord I adore Thee, feasting on Thy word . At home, and by the wayside, and abroad, Alone with Thee Alone with Thee NEARER. JESUS, draw nearer, And make Thyself dearer, I yearn, I am yearning for Thee ; Come, take for Thy dwelling The heart that is swelling With longings Thy beauty to see. Come nearer, come nearer, And make Thyself dearer, Thou joy, Thou delight of my heart Close, close to Thee pressing I long for Thy blessing, I cannot without it depart. AT JESUS’ FEET. HERE is a spot where tempted souls May find a dear retreat ; They fly from sin and self, and lie At Jesus’ feet. In vain upon their heads the storms Of life may rudely beat, Grief cannot harm the soul that lies At Jesus’ feet. My Soul, upon life's dizzy heights Beware to take Thy seat, Leave not the valley, but abide At Jesus’ feet. Wouldst thou in peace, and joy, and love, And gladness stand complete P Seek it in penitence and faith At Jesus’ feet. MORE LOVE TO THEE. ORE love to Thee, O Christ, More love to Thee Hear Thou the prayer I make On bended knee; This is my earnest plea More love, O Christ, to Thee, More love to Thee l Then shall my latest breath Whisper Thy praise ; This be the parting cry My heart shall raise ; This still its prayer shall be — More love, O Christ, to Thee, More love to Thee I Saved by Grace º (one of the most impressive compositions of the late Fanny Crosby and the favorite hymn of the late Dwight L. Moody.) OME day the silver cord will break. And I no more as now shall sing: But on, the joy when I shall wake Within the palace of the King. CHORUS And I shall see Him face to face And tell the story, Saved by Grace, And I shall see Hin face to face And tell the story, Saved by Grace. Some day my earthly house will fall. I cannot tell how soon "twill be: | But this I know, my All in All Has now a place in Heav'n for me. Some day when fades the golden sun Beneath the rosy-tinted West, My blessed Lord shall say, “Well done!" And I shall enter into rest. | some day, tin then in waton and wait. My lamp all trimmed and burning bright. That when my Saviour opes the gate, FRHNCES J. V.H. N. alsTV. My soul to Him may * its flight. Huthor of “Rescue the perishing.” HIS TO RIC HYMN IS T.S. IQQ MRS. FRANCES JANE WAN ALSTYNE. HYMN is a work of art, but it is not in itself an end, it is an instrument to accomplish a higher end. Its mission is to arrest attention, to touch the heart, to voice the prayer, and wing the praise of the soul. Helpfulness is one of the prime virtues in this needy world, and the hymns of “Fanny Crosby’’ are helpful. I have no sympathy with the TâIICWTTTºtte Väſst ICTGFſtics who would exclude every warm personal element from “spiritual songs.” According to their rules we should have to discontinue the use of “Rock of Ages” and the twenty-third Psalm. “A Sermon that does good is a good sermon,” said Dr. Adam Clarke. I dare to say the same of a hymn. In the Sunday-school, the prayer service, and the home circle, the hymnic compositions of Mrs. Van Alstyne have been a blessing to multitudes. It is sometimes said* gospel hymn that it is “all worn out;"| Yes, but how did it become worn out? By being sung thousands of times by millions of people. There are plenty of hymns that will never be worn out, because they will never be used. Frances Jane Crosby was born in South East, N. Y., March 24, 1820. She had the misfortune to lose her eyesight in infancy, but she received a good education in the Institution for the Blind, New York, and has passed a useful and happy life. In 1851 she united with the Methodist Episcopal Church, in which she continues to hold membership. She was married in 1858 to Alexander Van Alstyne, also from the Insti- . *, tution for the Blind. }~ ; ; , , W . . . . . . . * . . - Miss Crosby had a natural gift for verse, and wrote rhymes at an early age. While a teacher in the school where she was educated she wrote the words of several popular songs for George F. Root, the well-known musical composer. Among these were “Hazel Dell,” “There's Music in the Air,” “Rosalie, the Prairie Flower,” “Proud World, Good-by,” and “Never Forget the Dear Ones.” She began to write Sunday-school hymns for William B. Bradbury in February, 1864. Her first piece appeared in the “Golden Censer.” It was called “Our Bright Home Above.” From that time her chief employment has been the writing of hymns and spiritual songs; she loves her work and is happy in it. If it is said that she has written too many hymns of indifferent merit, the same may be said of Charles Wesley - and other-atthors; but possibly these numerous Ordinary productions were necessary to * ** strengthen the pinions for the higher flights of song. Among the most popular of her hymns are: “Pass me not, O gentle Saviour,” “Rescue the Perishing,” “Safe in the Arms of Jesus,” “Blessed Assurance,” “The Bright Forever,” “Blessed Homeland,” . . 4s p r '', ^x - * … . . t i A , \/ 2OO G R E A T H YMN WRITERS. “Saviour, more than life to me,” and “All the way my Saviour leads me.” This blind WOman Can See Jesus, and that is the secret of her success. The poems here given were contributed by Mrs. Van Alstyne. l * s f - : & A" - - - “A CUP OF COLD WATER." 'Tis but a little thing to give A cup of water, cool and clear ; 'Tis but a little thing to speak A loving word of cheer; And yet perchance these humble deeds May have their mission to perform In Some lone heart that, like a flower, Lies crushed beneath the storm. 'Tis but a little thing to share The anguish of an aching breast, To ask that He, Our Lord, will grant The healing balm of rest. | And yet, within the “Book of Life,” Our spirit eyes the words may see, “Accepted are your deeds of love, Ye did them unto me.” 'Tis but a little thing to lend A helping hand to those in need ; And from our basket and our store The poor to clothe and feed ; But, oh how great our joy will be If, when our souls in heaven awake, We hear the blessed Master say, “Ye did it for my sake.” “TRUST IN THE LORD,” AND BELIEVE. W W 7E sing of a wonderful city, Where never a mortal has trod ; Its walls and its gates are of jasper; Its builder and maker is God. There sickness, temptation, and sorrow, No longer the spirit shall grieve ; And though we behold not its glory, We trust in the Lord and believe. We sing of a clear, flowing river, That waters that city above ; We sing of the pure and the holy That dwell in its mansions of love. Oh, there are the Sower and reaper And there are the crowns they receive ; We know not the bliss they inherit, But trust in the Lord and believe. Our faith looks away to that city, And soars to its portals of light; And gladly we'll sing of its grandeur, Till faith shall be changed into sight. We’ll sing of the tree by the river, Of garlands our fingers may weave, And, oh till the Vail shall be lifted, We'll trust in the Lord and believe. 2. CS | Words by . . . . THE REv. FREDERICK EDwARDs. OD of the nations, who hast led Thy children since the world began, Through doubt and struggle, pain and tears, Unfolding Thine eternal plan; From countless hilltops as of old The fire upon the altar flares; Music by BARNBY (adapted). The helpless, by the strong oppressed, The truth with error still concealed, The evil grudgingly confessed; Hasten the time of our release Bring in Thy reign of love and peace. Through countless rites, in countless tongues O God Triune, Thy Church to-day Men offer their imperfect prayers; Hasten the time of our release, Bring in Thy reign of love and peace. O Jesus Christ, Incarnate Son, Who bore our flesh that men might see The Vision of the Perfect Life Fashioned in their humanity; By all Thy words of heavenly truth, By all Thy deeds of mercy wrought, By all the passion of Thy cross, By the redemption Thou hast brought ; Hasten the time of our release, Bring in Thy reign of love and peace. O Holy Spirit, who dost touch The prophets with Thy sacred fire, Eternal wisdom to whose light All seekers after truth aspire; Behold the warring sons of men, In penitence before Thee kneels; Mourning her years of slothful ease, Her deafness to the world's appeals; Divided where she should be one, Enamored of a lesser strife, Tithing the mint and cummin while Men perish for the Bread of Life; Hasten the time of our release, Bring in Thy reign of love and peace. Restore to us the vision, Lord ; Descend with fires of Pentecost; Our tongues unloose, our hearts inflame To preach Thy Gospel to the lost; Here at Thy feet our prayer is made, Here life and wealth we dedicate; Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, Lord Thine anointing we await. Hasten the time of our release, Bring in Thy reign of love and peace. JOSEPH H. GILMORE, Ruthor of “ He leadeth me.” HIS TO RIC HYMNIS T.S. 2O3 REW. JOSEPH H. GILMORE, A.M. IT is not difficult to discover the secret of the popularity of many hymns and spiritual songs; some Scripture passage, perhaps a single word, a vital thought, gives life and inspiration to the author, the hymn, and to those who sing it. “What a Friend we have in Jesus,” by Joseph Scriven; “Thy will be done,” by Charlotte Elliott; and “He leadeth me,” by Professor Gilmore, — are familiar illustrations of this fact. Joseph Henry Gilmore was born in Boston, Mass., April 29, 1834. He was educated at Phillips Academy, Andover, Brown University, Providence, and Newton Theological Seminary, graduating from the last institution in 1861. Mr. Gilmore was Ordained June 19, 1862, as pastor of the Baptist church in Fisherville, N. H. In 1865 he became pastor of the Second Baptist church in Rochester, N.Y. He was elected to the Professorship of Logic, Rhetoric, and English Literature in Rochester University in 1868. Professor Gilmore has written only a few hymns. “He leadeth me" was born in 1862. Its inspiration was derived from the contemplation of the twenty-third Psalm. After writing this famous spiritual song (Mr. Gilmore says that it “wrote itself”), the author handed it to his wife, who sent the hymn to the “Watchman and Reflector,” where it first appeared in print December 4, 1862. Mr. William B. Bradbury, always on the look-out for gems of verse, found it in this or some other paper, set it to appropriate music, and started it on its mission around the world. The second selection, “Looking unto Jesus,” is without doubt the personal testimony of the author. “Hungering for the Word,” which recently appeared in the “Young People's Union,” was sent to the writer in manuscript by Professor Gilmore. HE LEADETH ME. Hº leadeth me ! O blessed thought ! O words with heavenly comfort fraught ! Whate’er I do, where’er I be, Still 'tis God’s hand that leadeth me. He leadeth me, He leadeth me, By His own hand. He leadeth me; His faithful follower I would be, For by His hand. He leadeth me. 2O4 GREA T H YMN WFIT.E.R.S. Sometimes 'mid scenes of deepest gloom, Sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom, By waters still, O'er troubled sea, – Still 'tis His hand that leadeth me. Lord, I would clasp Thy hand in mine, Nor ever murmur nor repine, Content, whatever lot I see, Since ’tis my God that leadeth me. And when my task on earth is done, When, by Thy grace, the victory’s won, E’en death's cold wave I will not flee, Since God through Jordan leadeth me. L00KING UNTO JESUS. MY trembling soul to Jesus turned Upon the fatal tree ; To Him who bore our sins, Who gave His life for me ; And so I trust in Jesus' blood, In Him who died for me. And all throughout my pilgrim way, Whate'er my sorrow be, My heart still turns to Him Who suffered once for me, And hopes for sunshine after storm, Through Him who died for me. Beneath temptation's fierce assaults I bow the suppliant knee, And look to Him alone Who conquered sin for me ; And trust through grace to Overcome Through Him who died for me. Bereft of friends, of wealth, of fame, From care my heart is free ; I clasp the friendless One Who left His home for me; And hope at last to reign in heaven With Him who died for me. HUNGERING FOR THE WORD. ORD of God on thee I feed, Satisfying every need ; Let my hungry soul be fed Ever on this heavenly bread. Keener hunger, Lord, impart, Deeper yearning in my heart, That, from Thine exhaustless store, Daily I may draw the more. Blessed Spirit, by whose might Holy men were moved to write, Teach what Thou wouldst have me know, Lead where Thou wouldst have me go. From Thy bounty help me give To the dying words that live, Till the Daystar's dawning light Change my feeble faith to sight. \ ? }} È §§ ROEN ÈRÈRÈNŅ ***** } ſ §§ §§ ſ ț §§ §§ ● ● }} ț ！ } ºſ & º { | HRVERGRL, FRPANCES R : ; Ruthor of “Take my life and let it be. HIS TO RIC HYMNIST.S. 2O7 MISS FRANCES RIDLEY HAWERGAL. This gifted woman, the daughter of an English clergyman, was born at Astley, December 14, 1836. Her childhood was passed in a home brightened by Christian love and pure family joys. Fanny drank in the refinement and culture of her home as naturally as she breathed. She learned to read very early, and at the age of seven began to write verses. When six years old she was awakened by a sermon ; she realized that she was “a naughty girl,” and really wanted to be a Christian. She prayed with zeal for a time, then became negligent and careless. This alternate desire and indifference went on for several years. In the early part of 1851, when she was fourteen, she first found a gleam of hope. Evidently this was the real date of her conversion. Miss Havergal had something of her—father's-talent for music—composed readily, and rendered the productiºns ºf the masters with skill and pleasure. In 1867 she joined the Y. W. C. A., and so added another link to a chain of Christian activity. Her hymn- writing seemed to be a special inspiration. In 1866 she wrote: “I have a curious, vivid sense, not merely of my verse faculty in general being given me, but also of every sepa- rate poem or hymn, nay, every line, being given. It is peculiarly pleasant thus to take it as a direct gift, not as a matter of effort, but purely involuntarily. . . . Writing is praying with me, for I never seem to write even a verse by myself, and I feel like a little child writing; you know a child would look up at every sentence and say, “And what shall I say next?' That is just what I do ; I ask that at every line He would give me, not merely thoughts and power, but also every word, even the very rhymes. Very often I have a most distinct and happy consciousness of direct answers.” In 1873 Miss Havergal realized a fuller, deeper, and richer Christian experience than she had known before. A little–Lees-º-º-fºr-Fesus,” sent her by a friend, was the means of showing her that “the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin” (I. John i. 7). Very soon she could write, “I see it all, and I have the blessing.’ Miss Havergal herself told the story of the origin of her “Consecration Hymn.” “I went for a little visit of five days. There were ten persons in the house, some uncon- verted and long prayed for, some converted, but not rejoicing Christians. He gave me the prayer, Lord, give me a// in this house !’ And He just did. Before I left the house every one had got a blessing. The last night of my visit I was too happy to sleep, and passed most of the night in praise and renewal of my own consecration, and these little couplets formed themselves and chimed in my heart one after another till they fin- ished with, ‘Ever, only, all for Thee ’” 2O8 WRITE R.S. G REA T H YMN +.- Cº., º i ! CONSECRATION. TASE my life, and let it be Consecrated, Lord, to Thee. Take my moments and my days; Let them flow in ceaseless praise. Take my hands, and let them move At the impulse of Thy love. Take my feet, and let them be Swift and “beautiful '' for Thee. Take my voice, and let me sing Always, only, for my King. Take my lips, and let them be Filled with messages from Thee. ---------- Take my silver and my gold; Not a mite would I withhold. Take my intellect, and use Every power as Thou shalt choose. Take my will, and make it Thine ; It shall be no longer mine. Take my heart, it is Thine own ; It shall be Thy royal throne. Take my love ; my Lord, I pour At Thy feet its treasure-store. Take myself, and I will be Ever, only, all for Thee. TRUSTING JESUS. I AM trusting Thee, Lord Jesus, Trusting only Thee ; Trusting Thee for full salvation, Great and free. I am trusting Thee for pardon ; At Thy feet I bow, For Thy grace and tender mercy, Trusting now. I am trusting Thee for cleansing In the crimson flood ; Trusting Thee to make me holy By Thy blood. I am trusting Thee to guide me ; Thou alone shalt lead ; Every day and hour Supplying All my need. I am trusting Thee for power; Thine can never fail; Words which Thou Thyself shalt give me, Must prevail. I am trusting Thee, Lord Jesus; Never let me fall; I am trusting Thee forever, And for all. JUST WHEN UST when Thou wilt, O Master, call ; Or at the noon, or evening fall, Or in the dark, or in the light, Just when Thou wilt, it must be right. Just when Thou wilt, O Saviour, come, Take me to dwell in Thy bright home ; Or when the snows have crowned my head, Or ere it hath one silver thread. Just when Thou wilt, O Bridegroom, say, “Rise up, my, love, and come away !” !-iskſ affan 4a2- The erhº <}, ... ', …” ...~ ..*- ! . . . . – º – - s - - - - - *- / \ One of the sweetest singers of this half-century was Hyaca lºw JM/- C - F. Clſox c., 2^n - Ayu-wa a 34 Cecil Frances Alexander, who died on Oct. 12. She • -- - -----. --- - ----- - 4. 5'-es- /4%3T. º #. | TF-º- ~~~. Tºee 22, 2...e., ... ~, ſ?4-o & ºgº 427 * poetical gifts 11, . tº -- era” ºr • . in several * Reece. #e ' - 32. 1544 A4-2 ... -- 172. directions, Cºe — Tºº-2e Q 2.22. c 4: º gº & fr and had the 4 - e, C /8-Kºº- : a fi Cºfi 2 * *. - pº satisfaction o £2.2× . fä, ä *… ace.4 isso 2. of knowing • 2 3 t h a t he r jov, 22 tº 7-2-#32-, 2/ a 6. /2^3 .. hymns were €4. '- A/3 appreciated %. C*-24%. a ex 42. Zºº & 1 & 2. // & J. by e Very , 7 f. ~ 27 2 w y , 4 - /224 ea & ***A422 Žſ * * * 22222, Zºrz. A/ec., /$ 72- sectiºn of -s..., |z2|, . * * ...Tº the religious 2- Yºº ta...e., … ?& {2^2 /ēs = ovel» ºz. e. world. The 2ſ ea …e. 2.É. & ... . 3× 2.2 *. - Zar lº *g daughter of . … . .2.2 Å (2 ºr ºf Major Hum- º: ſº . * 27°-- A. ºeſ. £2% ºr 3 4-6A “ phreys, of %2. % a via (6. (3-74-- /v2.2 St r a b a n e, 24, to ºccº an are, 2,266 &. +. Ireland, she ex-3 - ? began writ- ..o Jºo. % ‘72-c. *-tº- tº ze Tº e < . Zºº & 2^*} - " Æ, “...4. ing poetry in º her girlhood, the days of t 73 y ! . P v//s4.2 ° --- A ca. º a?, 2:44..…Sººº...?"after y \ * º 25trategic References on the 25undau Question. • * ~~~~~~~~~ CRAFTS, W. F. THE SABBATH FOR MAN. (New Edition). New York. The Baker & Taylor Co., 1892. GRAY, G. S. EIGHT STUDIES OF THE LORD’S DAY. Boston. Houghton, Mifflin & Co SABBATH ESSAYS, Edited by Rev. W. C. Wood, Boston, Cong’l Pub. House, 1879. WAFFLE, PROF. A. E. THE LORD’S DAY, Its Universal and Perpetual Obligation. Philadelphia Am. Sunday School Union. 1886. WARREN, PROF. S. EDWARD. THE SUNDAY QUESTION. Boston. James H. Earle. 1890. BITTINGER, REv. J. Q. A PLEA For T.:E SABe TH AND FOR MAN. Boston & Chicago Cong’ Sunday School & Pub. Soc. 1892. HESSEY, J. A. SUNDAY, ITS ORIGIN, HISTORY AND PRESENT OBLIGATIONS. Bamp ton Lectures for 1860. London. John Murray. Cox, ROBERT. LITERATURE OF THE SABBATH QUESTION. 2 vols. Edinburgh. 1865 FOUR Essays ON THE SABBATH. Edinburgh. James Gemmel. 1886. WRIGHT, HON. CARROLL I). REPORT ON SUNDAY LABOR. Massachusetts Bureau of Labor. 1885. NESBIT, S. H. THE SABBATH OF THE BIBLE. Pittsburgh. 1890. HOPKINS, PREs. MARK. THE SABBATH AND FREE INSTITUTIONS. Bow ND, DR. NICHOLAs. THE TRUE DOCTRINE OF THE SABBATH. 1606. (Copy in the Prin Library, Public Library, Boston.) BOSTON HYMN. ONE DAY IN SEVEN. SUNG AT TREMONT TEMPLE, TUNE — Woodworth. AT THE 230TH BOSTON MONDAY LECTURE, FEB. 13, 1893. One rainbow spans Time's ocean breast, Each wave lifts high its comrade's crest : Toil gives the face heroic light, And hallowed rest is holy might, God opens wide the gate to Heaven While rests the race one day in seven ; He soothes the weary heart and brain As silver moons rise, wax and wane. A golden candlestick the Week — Seven-branched, its flames all upward seek God’s face, and central is the flame That bears His Sabbath's holy name. Time's coming golden ages wait On work and worship, alternate ; God’s two hands clothe the world in white, And give it coronals of light. Thou and thy servant both shall pause: Thou and the stranger: Equal laws Shall rule the race in toil and rest : So brotherhood is born and blest. Creation and Redemption thou Shalt glorify, with blissful brow, And into God's own likeness grow; His Sabbaths into Heaven flow. JOSEPH Cook. BOSTON HYMN. ---- - - SEALED ORDERS. SUNG AT TREMONT TEMPLE, AT THE 234TH BOSTON MONDAY LECTURE, MARCH 13, 1893. TUNE — Worthing. Now the Lord hath spoken to me, May no evil day undo me; Lies before me clear and fair, Pathway up a mountain stair, Sunlight in the upper air. Many years Thy Whisper moved me, Many years Thy Right Hand proved me; Thou afar didst see to-day : All the noontide hidden lay In the morning dim and gray. Many lands and many oceans, Many peoples in commotions, Thou hast shown me as a sign That Thy Whisper is divine; ...) May Thy purposes be mine ! Evermore by Thee enshrouded; In the azure sky or clouded, Let me follow Thy behest, Without hasting, without rest, As a star moves toward the west. Thou my Helmet, Falchion, Leader, Lord and Saviour, Interceder, Both my left hand and my right, Fill with javelins of light And with ten archangels’ might ! x ~ v l, r. * - * * JOSEPH Cook, -: *. • C ~ . . ºz - i , t , , , , ºr . K- * * * * * : *, * ~, e = . *y Sc = < * , 4, , * - 4 = - ºzº -\, X & A )--> * \ o * } , C. ^*. 3 -i ºr . . Tº , ºr S- '. Kº 2 |, . S. * * , e 2 X z;T. N _** V’ _*. ~~ | *- : * ~ *, *, * Is N a \ . . . jº NEW LIGHT AS TO THE LORD'S DAY, THE TEACHING OF THE TWELVE APOSTLES, OR THE OLDEST CHURCH MANUAL. The Didache and Kindred Documents, in the Original, with translations, discussions, &c. By Philip Schaff, D. D., L.L. D., Professor of Church History in Union Theological Seminary, New York. (Third edition, revised and enlarged.) New York : Funk & Wagnalls, 18 and 20 Astor Place. • 8vo. Pp. 325 1890. \ The above document, written about A. D. 150, and not known in modern times until a few years ago, throws great light upon Apostolic example and pre- cept as to the Lord's Day, Baptism, Prayer, &c. It makes clear the meaning of the words “not forsaking the assembling of yourselves together” (Heb. Io: 24), and of the phrase stato die, in Pliny’s celebrated letter to Trajan, A. D. I Io. It obviously inflicts a mortal wound on the loose Continental theory as to Sunday. --~~~. The following are Strategic extracts: THOU SHALT NOT FORSAKE THE COMMANDMENTS OB 1 HE, 1.0 Riy, bor, throu shalt keep what thou hast received, neither adding nor taking away. In the congregation thou shalt con- fess thy transgressions, and thou shalt not come to thy prayer with an evil conscience. Ch. iv., 13, 14. BAPTIZE YE IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER AND OF THE SON AND OF THE HOLY GHOST, in living water. Ch. vii., 3. As the Lord commanded in his Gospel, so pray ye, “Our Father, &c. Pray thus thrice a day. Ch. viii., 2, 3. Every prophet who teaches the truth, if he does not practice what he teaches, is a false prophet Ch. xi., Io. LET NO CHRISTIAN LIVE II)LE AMONG YOU. Ch. xii., 4. ON THE LORD’S DAY OF THE LORD COME TOGETHER AND BREAK BREAD A ND GIVE THANKS HAVING BEFORE CONFESSED YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS, that your sacrifice may be pure. Let no one who has a dispute with his fellow come together with you until they are reconciled, that your sacrifice may not be defiled, Ch. xiv., 11, 12. ELECT FOR YOURSELVES BISHOPS AND DEACONS worthy of the Lord, men meek and not lovers of money, and truthful. Ch. xv., 1. THOU SHALT SEEK OUT DAY BY DAY THE FACES OF THE SAINTS, that thou mayest rest upon their words. Ch. iv., 2. Thou shalt not hate any one, but some thou shalt lebuke and for some thou shalt prav. and some thou shalt love above thine own soul. Ch. ii., 7. r BE YE FREQUENTLY GATHERED TOGETHER, seeking the things that are profitable {c. * * souls, ‘’’ ‘‘’s whole time of your fair shall not profit you except in the last season vs...be taliud- perfect. Ch xvi , 2 * DAWN AND SUNSET. SUNG AT TIR EMONT TEMPLE, THE 232d Boston Monday LECTURE, FEB. 27, 1893. TUN E — Hendon. Dawn drives westward day by day; When it passes pause and pray : Sunset shadows mornward go ; Bow the reverent forehead low. Sacred night and day divine, Sunset and the sunrise line, Girdle all the wheeling globe, Summer's, Winter's, Autumn's robe. Through the curves beneath thy feet Rolls the round world, silent, fleet : Sunbeams nations unify : Men have but a single sky. So great Saturn rolls and sings, Day and night fly round his rings: All the planets face the sun, And in God all worlds are one. Wheels of God, or fast or slow, End of paths at opening know : Rolling, sing ; and singing, roll; Perfect is the coming Whole. JOSEPH COOK. THE SOULPS!" oUTCRY. sung AT TREMONT. TEMPLE, ' ' ' ' ' ' AT THE 233D BosTON MONDAY LECTURE, MARCH 6, 1893. ' ' ' ' ' , 23, ... * * 7 - { F. ~ * • * * x-4 - a TUNE — Martyn. God would yet remember me, Even should I cease to be: Any leaf that ever fell, • . . He who made remembers well; - Of His works am I a part, ; : : He will bear me on: His heart. f : . Father, more than, mother mild, Thou wilt not forget Thy child r * , ] { Many mansions : God, prepares 5 And for all He made He cares; In my soul prediction lies Of unending destinies; ' ' ' ' ( ; ; ; God a dwelling hath in me, And I shall not cease to be. Lord of all skies, calm or wild, Shelter Thou Thy helpless child ! . . Only Thou canst sin erase; - Match Thy Justice by Thy Grace. Peace grant Thou to loyalty; Life, strength, bliss, Atonement be; And before Thy Great White Throne, Shield and ransom Thou Thine own. White in garments undefiled, - Loyal make Thy lawless child JOSEPH Coor. ATONEMENT. SUNG AT PARK STREET CHURCH, At the 236TH Boston Monday LECTURE, JANUARY 29, 1894. TUNE : Rock of Ages. Searching sun and holy sky, God is great and heaven is high : Who can wash my red, right hand? This I ask of sea and land : Who from guilt can give release? After treason, where is peace? Lawless soul from reason reft, I my Father's house have left; Famished sit among the swine, I of lineage divine; Sick in heart, and hand, and head, Perish here for want of bread. Penitent, abased, and low, To my Father I will go ; I no merit of my own Claim before His great white throne; Justly were I evermore Exile from my Father's door. Tidings blest from God I hear, Ransom He from guilt and fear ! God in Christ Atonement makes ; He no penitent forsakes. Grace is this beyond degree : Robe of white He giveth me ! All the galaxies His hand Holds as drifting grains of sand; But in lowly hearts dwells He, And His wounds have set us free. Lo the Cross for evermore Exiles guides to Heaven's door. Vision dazzling star and sun, God and man in Christ made one, Let the Cross the worlds amaze. I am melted as I gaze: Thee I serve for evermore, Lord and Saviour, trust, adore JOSEPH Cook. CONTRASTS. SUNG AT PARK STREET CHURCH, AT THE 237TH BosTON MONDAY LECTURE, FEBRUARY 5, 1894. TUNE : Rosefield. He who builds the starry dome Has in contrite hearts a home ; He whose planets never rest Feeds the fledglings in their nest; He who makes Orion tall Marks the fragile sparrow's fall. He in whom the seas rejoice Has in man a still, small voice; He whose hands the ages roll Knows the soul of every soul; He who is consuming flame Finds in love His perfect name. He who rises from the dead Had not where to lay His head; He whose glory heaven reveals This in robe of flesh conceals; King of kings, all thrones above, Dies to show atoning love. Whose the arm and whose the heart That could take Jehovah's part. In the Universe as school? Who but He is fit to rule P None but Thee,_no, none but Thee, Would I have rule over me ! Empty seems the world and cold? Slowly works divine unfold. Ice or sun, let little man Trust God's orbic, perfect plan. Frost and fire give bliss its wings; In the glacier summer sings, Father, Son and Holy Ghost, With the ransomed heavenly host, Thee, one God, for evermore, I, Thy poor child, serve, adore. In the dew-drop dwells the sun : Let my life with Thine be one ! In the Parliament. - JOSEPH COOK. 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