VNineteenth-century Hymns

Toplady wrote a good many hymns, but no other compares with this great universal prayer, probably the best-known and best-loved hymn in the language. He was essentially a Methodist, his Calvinism being, one might almost say, accidental. His hymns have the tone and even the mannerisms of Charles Wesley.[168]Many of them are good devotional reading. The following verses will remind many readers of some well-known lines of Charles Wesley—

O when wilt Thou my Saviour be?O when shall I be clean,The true, eternal Sabbath see,A perfect rest from sin?

O when wilt Thou my Saviour be?

O when shall I be clean,

The true, eternal Sabbath see,

A perfect rest from sin?

The consolations of Thy wordMy soul have long upheld;The faithful promise of the LordShall surely be fulfilled.

The consolations of Thy word

My soul have long upheld;

The faithful promise of the Lord

Shall surely be fulfilled.

I look to my Incarnate God,’Till He His work begin,And wait ’till His redeeming bloodShall cleanse me from all sin.

I look to my Incarnate God,

’Till He His work begin,

And wait ’till His redeeming blood

Shall cleanse me from all sin.

His great salvation I shall know,And perfect liberty;Onward to sin he cannot go,Whoe’er abides in Thee:

His great salvation I shall know,

And perfect liberty;

Onward to sin he cannot go,

Whoe’er abides in Thee:

Added to the Redeemer’s fold,I shall in Him rejoice,I all His glory shall behold,And hear my Shepherd’s voice.

Added to the Redeemer’s fold,

I shall in Him rejoice,

I all His glory shall behold,

And hear my Shepherd’s voice.

O that I now the voice might hearThat speaks my sins forgiven!His word is past to give mehereThe inward pledge of heaven.

O that I now the voice might hear

That speaks my sins forgiven!

His word is past to give mehere

The inward pledge of heaven.

His blood shall over all prevailAnd sanctify the unclean;The grace that saves from future hellShall save from present sin.

His blood shall over all prevail

And sanctify the unclean;

The grace that saves from future hell

Shall save from present sin.

In no part of the kingdom was the Evangelical Revival more influential than in Wales. Whitefield, Howell Harris, and, perhaps more than all, Lady Huntingdon, were the controlling minds, and they led the people of the Principality to the Calvinistic rather than to the Wesleyan Methodists. The quaint poetry of Vicar Rees Prichard’sWelshman’s Candleand the Psalms of Archdeacon Prys seem to have been the songs of the Welsh Church until William Williams of Pantycelyn arose—a great light, well worthy to be called the Watts of Wales. His father was deacon of an Independent Church, which at one time met ‘in a cave during the hours of twilight,’ for fear of their enemies. Williams himself was studying medicine, and had no thought of the ministry. One Sunday morning, as he passed through Talgarth in Breconshire, he went into the parish church. After the service the congregation gathered in the churchyard, and Howell Harris, standing on a tomb-stone, preached with the Holy Ghost and with power. That was the hour of Williams’s conversion. He prepared for the ministry of the Established Church, and was ordained deacon in1740. He acted as curate of two small parishes for three years, and then, drawn into the current of the Revival under the influence of Whitefield, David Rowlands, and Howell Harris, he became an earnest evangelist, travelling throughout the Principality. His hymn-writing is said to have been occasioned by a challenge of Howell Harris to the Welsh Calvinistic preachers to write better hymns than their congregations then possessed. He wrote hymns by the hundred, and they won an immediate and enduring popularity in Wales. ‘What Paul Gerhardt has been to Germany, what Isaac Watts has been to England, that and more has William Williams of Pantycelyn been to Wales.’[169]He was a great favourite with Lady Huntingdon, at whose suggestion he prepared a volume of hymns for Whitefield’s Orphan House. In this work, entitledGloria in Excelsis, some of his best hymns appeared. In modern hymn-books he is known by two hymns—

Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah!

and

O’er those gloomy hills of darkness.

It is probable that the English version of his greatest hymn was written by himself, and this seems to indicate that he suffers in translation, for none of the English versions of his other poems is to be compared with this. Mr. Garrett Horder thinks that ‘Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah’ has been largely supplanted by‘Lead, kindly Light,’ though the most recent hymn-books do not sustain this criticism. Keble re-wrote, but failed to improve it; and the same may be said of those who have made minor alterations. It is, and is likely to remain, one of the great songs of the Christian pilgrim in his progress from this world unto that which is to come.

Mr. Elvet Lewis has given several translations of hymns hitherto unknown to English people, which are good reading, though perhaps none are likely to attain extensive use. Here are two verses in Williams’s favourite metre—

Much I love the faithful pilgrims,Who the rugged steeps ascend;On their hands and knees they labourTo attain the heavenly end;To the summitOn my knees shall I come too.

Much I love the faithful pilgrims,

Who the rugged steeps ascend;

On their hands and knees they labour

To attain the heavenly end;

To the summit

On my knees shall I come too.

Bruisèd hands, oh! stretch ye upward,Tired feet, walk ye with care;The reward, the crown is yonder,My Belovèd—He is there!Earth forsakingNow the journey’s end is all.

Bruisèd hands, oh! stretch ye upward,

Tired feet, walk ye with care;

The reward, the crown is yonder,

My Belovèd—He is there!

Earth forsaking

Now the journey’s end is all.

Here are two more in another metre, and with the cheery rhythm of John Newton—

Here I know myself a stranger,And my native country liesFar beyond the ocean’s dangerIn the lands of Paradise:Storms of trial blowing keenlyDrive me on this foreign strand;Come, O South wind, blow serenely,Speed me to my Fatherland.

Here I know myself a stranger,

And my native country lies

Far beyond the ocean’s danger

In the lands of Paradise:

Storms of trial blowing keenly

Drive me on this foreign strand;

Come, O South wind, blow serenely,

Speed me to my Fatherland.

Now the air is full of balmWith the fragrance of the land;And the breezes clear and calmTell of Paradise at hand:Come, ye much-desired regions,With the best of joy in store;Country of the singing legions,Let me reach thy restful shore!

Now the air is full of balm

With the fragrance of the land;

And the breezes clear and calm

Tell of Paradise at hand:

Come, ye much-desired regions,

With the best of joy in store;

Country of the singing legions,

Let me reach thy restful shore!

Williams had the spirit of devout enthusiasm which characterized the Revival; his missionary hymns, though not among the best, are among the earliest of that class, and he had the rapt devotion to his Lord which is ever the inspiration of the true hymn-writer.

To Thee, my God, my Saviour,Praise be for ever new;Let people come to praise TheeIn numbers like the dew;O! that in every meadowThe grass were harps of gold,To sing to Him for comingTo ransom hosts untold![170]

To Thee, my God, my Saviour,

Praise be for ever new;

Let people come to praise Thee

In numbers like the dew;

O! that in every meadow

The grass were harps of gold,

To sing to Him for coming

To ransom hosts untold![170]

The hymns of the eighteenth century are almost without exception by writers of the Dissenting, Methodist, or Evangelical schools. In the nineteenth century the tide turns, and though the Nonconformists are not without hymn-writers of distinction, the great hymns are by Anglicans. Henry Francis Lyte in the first half of the century, Bishop Bickersteth, Charlotte Elliott, and Miss Havergal in the second, represent the Evangelical school. Heber was a typical Anglican, but he was not of the Tractarian type, and died before the publication of theChristian Year. Keble and Newman were the poets of the Oxford Movement, and gave a distinctive tone to much of the later Church hymn-writing; but Heber, more than any other man, did for the Church of England what Watts had done for the Nonconformists.

Reginald Heber (1783-1826) was a scholar and a gentleman, his churchmanship was unimpeachable, andhis life and death alike served to win acceptance for hymns whose intrinsic worth must have secured the widest recognition. His hymns, like those of Herbert, Keble, and many of our sweetest singers, are hymns of the country parsonage, and seem all to have been written whilst he held the family living of Hodnet, to which he was welcomed by the people as ‘Master Reginald.’ He was little better satisfied with Tate and Brady than Watts had been with Barton, and at one time contemplated using the Olney hymns in his church. Then he projected a more ambitious scheme, and hoped, with the help of Milman, Southey, and Walter Scott, to provide a book which might, perhaps under episcopal sanction, become the authorized hymnal of the Church. But he felt the proposal a bold one, and tried to prepare the way by the publication in theChristian Observerof a few hymns which he described as ‘part of an intended series appropriate to the Sundays and principal holy days of the year, connected in some degree with their particular collects and gospels, and designed to be sung between the Nicene Creed and the sermon.’ Like other reformers, he indulges in criticisms of the hymns then in use, and is especially severe in censuring those which address our Lord ‘with ditties of embraces of passion.’ The hymn-book was duly compiled, and specimens were submitted to Bishop Howley in the hope that he might give it an episcopal benediction. It is curious to note the apologetic tone in which Heber writes.

The evil, indeed, if it be one, of the admission of hymns into our Churches has, by this time, spread so widely, and any attempt to suppress it entirely would be so unpopular, and attended with so much difficulty, that I cannot help thinking it would be wiser, as well as more practicable, toregulatethe liberty thus assumed, instead of authoritatively taking it away. Nor can I conceive any method by which this object might be better obtained than by the publication of a selection which should, at least, have the praise of excluding whatever was improper in diction or sentiment; and might be on this, if on no other ground, thought not unworthy a licence of the same kind as that which was given to the psalms of Tate and Brady. I have the vanity to think that even my own compositions are not inferior in poetical merit to those of Tate; and my collection will contain some from our older poets, which it would be mockery to speak of in the same breath with his. There are a few also which I have extracted from the popular collections usually circulated, which, though I have not been able to learn their authors, possess considerable merit and much popularity, and are entirely free from objectionable expressions.[171]

The Bishop criticized freely, generally approved and advised the completion of the project; but Heber was called to Calcutta, and the collection was not published until after his death. It contained fifty-seven hymns of his own, twelve of Milman’s, and twenty-nine others. His object had been to obtain ‘a well-selected and sanctioned book of hymns for the Church of England, to supersede the unauthorized and often very improper compositions now in use.’ He did not securethis, but he prepared the way for something better, and may justly be regarded as the first of the modern Anglican hymn-writers. His best hymns are too well known to need comment, and of the rest comparatively few are of special value in public worship. His hymns owe more to the inspiration of the Gospels than the Psalms. The collect or gospel for the day often explains and throws new light upon a hymn, as in this for the Second Sunday after Trinity, the gospel being the Parable of the Great Supper. It is usually regarded as a Communion hymn.

Forth from the dark and stormy sky,Lord, to Thine altar’s shade we fly;Forth from the world, its hope and fear,Saviour, we seek Thy shelter here:Weary and weak, Thy grace we pray;Turn not, O Lord, Thy guests away!

Forth from the dark and stormy sky,

Lord, to Thine altar’s shade we fly;

Forth from the world, its hope and fear,

Saviour, we seek Thy shelter here:

Weary and weak, Thy grace we pray;

Turn not, O Lord, Thy guests away!

Long have we roamed in want and pain,Long have we sought Thy rest in vain;’Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost,Long have our souls been tempest-tost;Low at Thy feet our sins we lay,Turn not, O Lord, Thy guests away!

Long have we roamed in want and pain,

Long have we sought Thy rest in vain;

’Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost,

Long have our souls been tempest-tost;

Low at Thy feet our sins we lay,

Turn not, O Lord, Thy guests away!

Henry Hart Milman (1791-1868), who died Dean of St. Paul’s, is famous as an historian rather than a hymn-writer, but his few hymns have a wide popularity. In

Ride on, ride on in majesty!

he has shown how fine and true a hymn may be, though it departs from recognized devotional form. It isa meditation of a highly rhetorical kind, and apostrophizes but does not address our Lord. By some editors this is regarded as fatal to its inclusion in a collection of hymns, but the common judgement of Christian congregations is right. It has proved itself a hymn in spite of all rules, and is an excellent spiritual song for Palm Sunday.

In the year (1827) of the publication of Heber’sHymns, written and adapted to the Weekly Church Services of the Year, Keble issued anonymously the most influential devotional work of the nineteenth century,The Christian Year: Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and Holy Days throughout the Year. Like Ken’s festival hymns, it was not a hymn-book, and was not meant for use in Church services, though from a few of the poems verses may be taken which make hymns of the very best type. Pusey regarded it as ‘the real source of the Oxford Movement,’ of which Newman also thought Keble ‘the true and primary author,’ though he ‘ever considered and kept’ July 14, 1832, the day when Keble preached his sermon on ‘National Apostasy,’ ‘as the start of the religious movement.’ Of theChristian YearNewman says, ‘Keble struck an original note, and woke up in the hearts of thousands a new music, the music of a school long unknown in England.’ But the teaching of the Oxford Movement was rather latent than patent in theChristian Year, and it would be a great mistake to regard it as influencing that religious revival or eventhe English Church alone. On the other hand, Hurrell Froude feared that the authorship of theChristian Yearwould be attributed to a Methodist.[172]It was as important an element in the Movement as Charles Wesley’s hymns were in the Evangelical Revival. In each case the influence extended far beyond those who claim the poems as their special heritage.

Keble regarded the Church as in a state of desolation, decay, and apostasy. He knew nothing of the glorious optimism of the Wesleys, who saw everywhere signs of the speedy triumph of the gospel and the coming of Christ’s kingdom. They sang

Plague, earthquake, and famine, and tumult and war,The wonderful coming of Jesus declare.

Plague, earthquake, and famine, and tumult and war,

The wonderful coming of Jesus declare.

Keble’s vision was

So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes,Till some repenting heart be ready for the skies.

So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes,

Till some repenting heart be ready for the skies.

They saw in the ingatherings to their scattered Societies the assurance of abounding blessing

Lo, the promise of a showerDrops already from above;But the Lord will shortly pourAll the spirit of His love.

Lo, the promise of a shower

Drops already from above;

But the Lord will shortly pour

All the spirit of His love.

Keble saw no such visions, dreamed no such dreams. All he dares to ask is

Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and die,Touch us with chastening hand, and make us feel Thee nigh.[173]

Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and die,

Touch us with chastening hand, and make us feel Thee nigh.[173]

Yet, when he forgets the depression of the time, and turns to the consolations of eternity, he shows how firmly he believed his own motto, ‘In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.’ He has the sure trust and confidence of all God’s chosen, and at times kindles into holy rapture. The prevailing tone, however, is of sadness—the depression of the saint, not the perplexity of the doubter.

In 1839 Keble published, also anonymously, his metrical version of the Psalms. He had intended it to be a substitute for Tate and Brady, and had hoped to secure episcopal sanction for its use in the dioceses of Oxford and Winchester. It is, however, more interesting from the standpoint of the expositor than the hymnologist, very few of its versions being adapted to congregational use. TheLyra Innocentium, published anonymously in 1846, is vastly inferior to his great work, and has little to recommend it to those who are not in sympathy with the High Church Movement.

After Heber and Keble all that there was of justice in Montgomery’s sarcastic complaint, that hymns had been written by ‘all sorts of persons except poets’[174]isgone. They were poets first, hymn-writers afterwards. Keble’s greatest hymn is taken from his ‘Verses for Evening,’ which begins as a poem, and rises from meditation to praise and prayer. The earlier verses are not suitable for a hymn-book, but the beauty of the later lines is only fully realized when they are remembered.

’Tis gone, that bright and orbèd blaze,Fast fading from our wistful gaze;Yon mantling cloud has hid from sightThe last faint pulse of quivering light.

’Tis gone, that bright and orbèd blaze,

Fast fading from our wistful gaze;

Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight

The last faint pulse of quivering light.

In darkness and in wearinessThe traveller on his way must press,No gleam to watch on tree or tower,Whiling away the lonesome hour.

In darkness and in weariness

The traveller on his way must press,

No gleam to watch on tree or tower,

Whiling away the lonesome hour.

Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear,It is not night if Thou be near:O may no earth-born cloud ariseTo hide Thee from Thy servant’s eyes.

Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear,

It is not night if Thou be near:

O may no earth-born cloud arise

To hide Thee from Thy servant’s eyes.

There is surely no more beautiful illustration of the way in which the Christian rises from Nature up to Nature’s God.

As in the case of so many hymns, the part is greater than the whole. The six verses universally selected are not improved by the addition of others—though they have much to commend them.

John Henry Newman (1801-90) belongs to Anglican hymn-writers in virtue of his ‘Lead, kindly Light,’ though it may almost be described as his farewell to the Church of England. It marks at least the beginningof his long-drawn-out parting from the Establishment. Few hymns have won a wider popularity, and no doubt it has done much to accustom Nonconformist Churches to sympathize with the poetic and emotional side of the Oxford Movement. This hymn and theChristian Yearmade absolute want of sympathy with the new devotion impossible. Moreover, the tone of perplexity, the confession of bewilderment, the sense of ‘encircling gloom,’ fell in with the prevailing spirit of religious emotion. To many men of his own school the hymn meant something very different from what it means to the average worshipper, who finds in it a comfortable sedative for vague religious depression. I confess that personally the hymn does not seem to me as great as its reputation, but it has brought help and comfort to myriads. Dr. Wm. Barry says—

This most tender of pilgrim songs may be termed the March of the Tractarian Movement. It is pure melody, austere yet hopeful, strangely not unlike the stanzas which Carlyle has made familiar to the whole English race, the Mason-Song of Goethe, in its sublime sadness and invincible trust. Both are psalms of life, Hebrew or Northern, chanted in a clear-obscure where faith moves onward heroically to the day beyond.[175]

Newman’s other great hymn, ‘Praise to the Holiest in the height,’ which owes its popularity largely to Mr. Gladstone’s affection for it—though it is in itself a fine hymn—belongs to his Romanist days.

There was room for the new teaching. Perhaps Methodism was a little too buoyant, Evangelicalism too contented, and the Church was ready for a fresh upheaval.

Coincidently with the rise of the Oxford Movement came, as we have seen, the rolling away of the reproach of hymn-singing. Even the strongholds of the Establishment capitulated, and hymns formed an important part in the new propaganda. Stanch Churchmen had disliked hymn-singing. To quote Canon Ellerton—

It came to us from an unwelcome source—from the Dissenters, eminently from the Methodists. It was first adopted by those of the clergy who sympathized most with them; for many long years it was that dreaded thing, a party badge.[176]

The Evangelicals adopted the custom easily, and with delight. Cowper, Newton, Toplady, Hervey, Watts, Doddridge, and even Wesley, were no strangers to them. But for the Calvinistic trouble, they all minded the same things. They had no difficulty in regard to fellowship with Nonconformists in worship or in work. It has been the fashion to disparage the Evangelicals, and to regard the ‘Clapham Sect’ as a coterie of ill-informed, self-satisfied Pharisees; but for solid, practical Christianity it would be difficult to find any ‘school’ that outrivals them. The ‘Clapham Sect’ knew littleand cared less for priestly rights or the niceties of ritual. They may have been slack in the observance of fast and vigil, but they kept the fast of God, breaking the bonds of wickedness and letting the oppressed go free. The men who were the backbone of the anti-slavery movement, who were nursing fathers to the Bible Society, and established the Church Missionary Society, were not narrow-minded bigots, but held the true Catholic Faith concerning the kingdom of God.

Henry Francis Lyte (1793-1847), whose highest preferment was the Perpetual Curacy of Lower Brixham, ranks, as a hymn-writer, with Ken and Keble. While ministering to his ‘dear fishermen,’ he wrote many a lovely hymn, and one of unsurpassed beauty. ‘Abide with me’ was his swan-song. He died, like Toplady, of consumption, and felt the pain and pathos of death in the prime of life. In a most tender poem he has recorded that common but infinitely pathetic grief. It is interesting to contrast the subdued sadness, the patient submission of Lyte with the triumphant ecstasy of Toplady’s ‘Deathless principle, arise.’

Shudder not to pass the stream,Venture all thy care on Him.Not one object of His careEver suffered shipwreck there.

Shudder not to pass the stream,

Venture all thy care on Him.

Not one object of His care

Ever suffered shipwreck there.

Saints in glory perfect madeWait thy passage through the shade;Ardent for thy coming o’er,See they throng the blissful shore.

Saints in glory perfect made

Wait thy passage through the shade;

Ardent for thy coming o’er,

See they throng the blissful shore.

Such the prospects that ariseTo the dying Christian’s eyes.Such the glorious vista, FaithOpens through the shades of death.[177]

Such the prospects that arise

To the dying Christian’s eyes.

Such the glorious vista, Faith

Opens through the shades of death.[177]

This was the view of death taken by the Evangelicals in the eighteenth century. The gospel of the great Revival brought life and immortality to light, robbed death of all its terrors, and made heaven seem, even to young men, far better than earth. The nineteenth century had not the glowing rapture of the earlier time. Moreover, its interest in works of Christian philanthropy, its awakening to the great missionary call, made the life and work of the day infinitely important and interesting. Christian men began to realize that heaven lay beyond the golden glory of the sunset sky, and felt, with those of the older dispensation, that it was a calamity for the sun to go down while it was yet day. Lyte felt with Anne Brontë—

I hoped that with the brave and strongMy portioned task might lie.

I hoped that with the brave and strong

My portioned task might lie.

Lyte’s sorrow was not that he feared to change the earthly for the heavenly, but that he longed to have done enduring work e’er the night fell.

Why do I sigh to findLife’s evening shadows gathering round my way,The keen eye dimming, and the buoyant mindUnhinging day by day?

Why do I sigh to find

Life’s evening shadows gathering round my way,

The keen eye dimming, and the buoyant mind

Unhinging day by day?

Is it the natural dreadOf that stern lot, which all who live must see?The worm, the clay, the dark and narrow bed,—Have these such awe for me?

Is it the natural dread

Of that stern lot, which all who live must see?

The worm, the clay, the dark and narrow bed,—

Have these such awe for me?

Can I not summon prideTo fold my decent mantle round my breast,And lay me down at Nature’s Eventide,Calm to my dreamless rest?

Can I not summon pride

To fold my decent mantle round my breast,

And lay me down at Nature’s Eventide,

Calm to my dreamless rest?

As nears my soul the vergeOf this dim continent of woe and crime,Shrinks she to hear Eternity’s long surgeBreak on the shores of Time?

As nears my soul the verge

Of this dim continent of woe and crime,

Shrinks she to hear Eternity’s long surge

Break on the shores of Time?

I want not vulgar fame—I seek not to survive in brass or stone;Hearts may not kindle when they hear my name,Nor tears my value own;

I want not vulgar fame—

I seek not to survive in brass or stone;

Hearts may not kindle when they hear my name,

Nor tears my value own;

But might I leave behindSome blessing for my fellows, some fair trustTo guide, to cheer, to elevate my kind,When I was in the dust;

But might I leave behind

Some blessing for my fellows, some fair trust

To guide, to cheer, to elevate my kind,

When I was in the dust;

Within my narrow bedMight I not wholly mute or useless be;But hope that they, who trampled o’er my head,Drew still some good from me;

Within my narrow bed

Might I not wholly mute or useless be;

But hope that they, who trampled o’er my head,

Drew still some good from me;

Might verse of mine inspireOne virtuous aim, one high resolve impart;Light in one drooping soul a hallowed fire,Or bind one broken heart;—

Might verse of mine inspire

One virtuous aim, one high resolve impart;

Light in one drooping soul a hallowed fire,

Or bind one broken heart;—

Death would be sweeter then,More calm my slumber ’neath the silent sod,—Might I thus live to bless my fellow-men,Or glorify my God!

Death would be sweeter then,

More calm my slumber ’neath the silent sod,—

Might I thus live to bless my fellow-men,

Or glorify my God!

O Thou! whose touch can lendLife to the dead, Thy quickening grace supply,And grant me, swanlike, my last breath to spendIn song that may not die!

O Thou! whose touch can lend

Life to the dead, Thy quickening grace supply,

And grant me, swanlike, my last breath to spend

In song that may not die!

Was ever faithful prayer more abundantly answered? ‘He asked life of Thee, and Thou gavest it, even length of days for ever and ever.’

Christopher Wordsworth (1807-85), Bishop of Lincoln, nephew of the poet, was of set purpose a writer of hymns for congregational use. He taught that hymns should express the feeling of the Church, and not of the individual worshipper. He thought it ‘inexpressibly shocking’ that ‘Jesu, Lover of my soul’ should be sung in Westminster Abbey, at least, so I understand his reference to ‘a large, mixed congregation in a dissolute part of a populous and irreligious city.’[178]His hymns are objective, and the best—e.g. ‘O day of rest and gladness,’ ‘See the Conqueror mounts in triumph’—are very fine. Bishop Wordsworth did not ‘translate any ancient hymns, but attempted to infuse something of their spirit into’ his own.

TheHoly Yearwas a distinct contribution to the literature of the Anglican Revival. Very inferior in strength and beauty to theChristian Year, it was more useful to editors of hymn-books, and it helped to concentrate interest upon the selection of hymns suited to the Church year. Bishop Wordsworth kept closely to the Prayer-book ideal of devotion, and some of hisless-known poems are illustrative of its special teaching. A good example is the hymn for the Second Sunday in Advent, which he inscribed, ‘Christ ever coming in Holy Scripture.’

Lord, who didst the Prophets teachTo prepare Thy way of old;And by Thine Apostles preachTruths of wisdom manifold;

Lord, who didst the Prophets teach

To prepare Thy way of old;

And by Thine Apostles preach

Truths of wisdom manifold;

Teach us to behold Thee, Lord,Present in the sacred page,Living Word in written wordComing thus to every age.

Teach us to behold Thee, Lord,

Present in the sacred page,

Living Word in written word

Coming thus to every age.

Coming in King David’s Psalms,In Isaiah’s trumpet-call,Coming in St. John’s deep calms,Coming in the fires of Paul.

Coming in King David’s Psalms,

In Isaiah’s trumpet-call,

Coming in St. John’s deep calms,

Coming in the fires of Paul.

Coming brightly from afarTo the lands with darkness dim,On the Evangelic carOf Thy fourfold cherubim.

Coming brightly from afar

To the lands with darkness dim,

On the Evangelic car

Of Thy fourfold cherubim.

Thus, O blessèd Lord, when weOn Thy Holy Scriptures look,May we ever worship Thee,Coming in Thy sacred Book.

Thus, O blessèd Lord, when we

On Thy Holy Scriptures look,

May we ever worship Thee,

Coming in Thy sacred Book.

So, when as a scroll is pastHeaven, and earth with all its strife,We may see our names at lastWritten in the Book of Life.

So, when as a scroll is past

Heaven, and earth with all its strife,

We may see our names at last

Written in the Book of Life.

But the Anglican hymn-writers of the nineteenth century are too many for detailed comment in myfast-failing space. It is a glorious choir, including Joseph Anstice, who had so powerful an influence over Mr. Gladstone in his Oxford days;[179]Dean Alford, Dr. Monsell, Sir H. W. Baker, Dean Stanley, Bishops Mant, How, and Bickersteth, Canon Bright, Godfrey Thring, Canon Ellerton, S. J. Stone, Canon Twells, Laurence Tuttiett, S. Baring-Gould, among the clergy; Mrs. Alexander, Charlotte Elliott, Frances Ridley Havergal, Sir R. Grant, W. Chatterton Dix, among the laity.

Sir Henry Williams Baker (1821-77) wrote the lovely sacramental version of Ps. xxiii.: ‘The King of love my Shepherd is.’ One verse he repeated with his dying breath—

Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,But yet in love He sought me,And on His shoulder gently laid,And home, rejoicing, brought me.

Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,

But yet in love He sought me,

And on His shoulder gently laid,

And home, rejoicing, brought me.

He is one of the simplest and most attractive of hymn-writers, and the inclusion of his hymns in Nonconformist hymnals is a great gain. His greatest service to Anglican hymnody was the editing ofHymns Ancient and Modern—a truly epoch-making (or perhaps epoch-marking) book.

While Baker was at work in his Herefordshire vicarage, John Ellerton (1826-93) was writing hymnsand essays on hymns in his rural or semi-rural parsonages. Ellerton had a rare gift in writing for special occasions. His great funeral hymn, ‘Now the labourer’s task is o’er,’ has a sombre strength which is full of comfort and trust. ‘Behold us, Lord, a little space’ is an ideal hymn for a week-day service, and ‘In the Name which earth and heaven’ is the grandest of all hymns for the laying of the foundation-stone of a church.[180]Without being a High-Churchman, Ellerton was a thorough-going Anglican, and his poetry has the restraint, the good taste, and the dignity which beseem a great Church.

S. J. Stone (1839-1900), unlike most clerical hymn-writers, was not a country parson, though his best hymns were written before he began his work in East London. But even in its dreary wastes he found the true poetry of life, and some of his obscure parishioners at Haggerston are richly shrined in his memorial verses. I feel all the more moved by the triumphant tones of ‘The Church’s one foundation,’ all the more tenderly impressed by ‘Weary of earth, and laden with my sin,’ when I remember how dear to his heart were the struggling, toiling masses of his dull East London parish. His best hymns are well known, so I quote a sonnet which expresses his love for those who live in the crowded city.

Moored by a green isle of Winandermere—Listening the gentlest lapping of the waveOn the rock margin, and the blackbirds’ braveSoldierly antiphons, afar and near,And the wind’s whispered evensong—I hearA sound beyond, and sweeter as more graveThan ever paradise of nature gave,Dear to my heart of old, and now more dear:The roar of London—the deep undersong,The myriad music of immortal soulsHigh-couraged, much-enduring, midst the longDrear toil and gloom and weariness. It rollsOver me with all power, for in its toneThe hearts I love in Christ beat with my own.

Moored by a green isle of Winandermere—

Listening the gentlest lapping of the wave

On the rock margin, and the blackbirds’ brave

Soldierly antiphons, afar and near,

And the wind’s whispered evensong—I hear

A sound beyond, and sweeter as more grave

Than ever paradise of nature gave,

Dear to my heart of old, and now more dear:

The roar of London—the deep undersong,

The myriad music of immortal souls

High-couraged, much-enduring, midst the long

Drear toil and gloom and weariness. It rolls

Over me with all power, for in its tone

The hearts I love in Christ beat with my own.

Bishop Bickersteth demands mention, not only for his own beautiful hymns, but for his successful editing of theHymnal Companion to the Book of Common Prayer. Edward Bickersteth’sChristian Psalmodywas, in its day, one of the best and most catholic hymnals. In theHymnal Companion, his son provided for a later generation the more complete and worthy hymn-book which the growth of hymnody made possible. Of Bishop Bickersteth’s own hymns, a few are amongst those universally accepted. His Communion Hymn, to the regret of many, is absent from theMethodist Hymn-book.

’Till He come!’ O let the wordsLinger on the trembling chords;Let the ‘little while’ betweenIn their golden light be seen;Let us think how heaven and homeLie beyond that ’Till He come.’

’Till He come!’ O let the words

Linger on the trembling chords;

Let the ‘little while’ between

In their golden light be seen;

Let us think how heaven and home

Lie beyond that ’Till He come.’

When the weary ones we loveEnter on their rest above,Seems the earth so poor and vast,All our life joy overcast?Hush, be every murmur dumb;It is only till He come.

When the weary ones we love

Enter on their rest above,

Seems the earth so poor and vast,

All our life joy overcast?

Hush, be every murmur dumb;

It is only till He come.

Clouds and conflicts round us press;Would we have one sorrow less?All the sharpness of the cross,All that tells the world is loss,Death, and darkness, and the tombOnly whisper, ’Till He come.’

Clouds and conflicts round us press;

Would we have one sorrow less?

All the sharpness of the cross,

All that tells the world is loss,

Death, and darkness, and the tomb

Only whisper, ’Till He come.’

See! the feast of love is spread;Drink the wine, and break the bread:Sweet memorials, till the LordCall us round His heavenly board,Some from earth, from glory some,Severed only till He come.[181]

See! the feast of love is spread;

Drink the wine, and break the bread:

Sweet memorials, till the Lord

Call us round His heavenly board,

Some from earth, from glory some,

Severed only till He come.[181]

This aspect of the Lord’s Supper, the proclamation of the Lord’s death ’till He come,’ must ever be present to the mind of the devout communicant. The hymn—especially in its last verse—is full of the gracious, subdued trustfulness which befits the Christian as he commemorates the Atoning Sacrifice and looksforward to glad, eternal communion with those who have gone before, when once again our Lord Himself shall break the bread and drink the wine with His disciples in the Father’s kingdom.

Dean Stanley (1815-81) was not a poet, though he wrote the best English hymn on the Transfiguration. I mention him here, however, to quote some verses of his stirring national hymn, worthy of a Dean of Westminster. It is of a type that, I think, ought to be represented in our hymnals, and especially those intended for school use. Why should not such hymns as this and Mr. Gill’s ‘Lift thy song among the nations’ stir and consecrate the patriotism of our up-growing girls and boys? Dean Stanley’s hymn is very long. I quote less than half. In theWestminster Abbey Hymn-bookit is assigned to the Accession.

Let us with a gladsome mindPraise the Lord, for He is kind!Long our island throne has stood,Planted on the ocean flood;Crowned with rock, and girt with sea,Home and refuge of the free:For His mercies aye endure,Ever faithful, ever sure.

Let us with a gladsome mind

Praise the Lord, for He is kind!

Long our island throne has stood,

Planted on the ocean flood;

Crowned with rock, and girt with sea,

Home and refuge of the free:

For His mercies aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.

On that island throne have sateAlfred’s goodness, Edward’s state;Princely strength and queenly grace,Lengthened line of royal race:Round that throne have stood of oldSeers and statesmen, firm and bold;Burleigh’s wisdom, Hampden’s fire,Chatham’s force in son and sire.

On that island throne have sate

Alfred’s goodness, Edward’s state;

Princely strength and queenly grace,

Lengthened line of royal race:

Round that throne have stood of old

Seers and statesmen, firm and bold;

Burleigh’s wisdom, Hampden’s fire,

Chatham’s force in son and sire.

Let us with a gladsome mindPraise the Lord, for He is kind:Him, in homely English tongue,Epic lay and lyric song,Shakespeare’s myriad-minded verse,Milton’s heavenward strains, rehearse:For His mercies aye endure,Ever faithful, ever sure.

Let us with a gladsome mind

Praise the Lord, for He is kind:

Him, in homely English tongue,

Epic lay and lyric song,

Shakespeare’s myriad-minded verse,

Milton’s heavenward strains, rehearse:

For His mercies aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.

Hither in our heathen nightCame of yore the gospel light;By the Saviour’s sacred story,‘Angles’ turned to angels’ glory.Breaking with a gracious handAncient error’s subtle band;Opening wide the sacred page,Kindling hope in saint and sage.

Hither in our heathen night

Came of yore the gospel light;

By the Saviour’s sacred story,

‘Angles’ turned to angels’ glory.

Breaking with a gracious hand

Ancient error’s subtle band;

Opening wide the sacred page,

Kindling hope in saint and sage.

Give us homes serene and pure,Settled freedom, laws secure;Truthful lips and minds sincere;Faith and love that cast out fear.Grant that light and life divineLong on England’s shores may shine;Grant that people, Church, and throneMay in all good deeds be one.[182]

Give us homes serene and pure,

Settled freedom, laws secure;

Truthful lips and minds sincere;

Faith and love that cast out fear.

Grant that light and life divine

Long on England’s shores may shine;

Grant that people, Church, and throne

May in all good deeds be one.[182]

Of the eighteenth century, Miss Steele and Mrs. Barbauld are almost the only women whose hymns survive to-day. In the nineteenth century, however, there are not a few women whose songs are likely to endure. Charlotte Elliott, Cecil Frances Alexander, Anna Lætitia Waring, have written immortal hymns, and it will be long ere Frances Ridley Havergal is absent from the songs of the Church. It is safe toprophesy that ‘Just as I am,’ ‘There is a green hill far away,’ and ‘Father, I know that all my life,’ will be sung through many generations—as long, indeed, as English Christianity endures.

Charlotte Elliott (1791-1871), who belonged to a famous evangelical Church family, is one of many who learnt in suffering what she taught in song. Her greatest hymn, ‘Just as I am,’ was first published in theInvalid’s Hymn-book(1836), and, without her knowledge, was reprinted and widely circulated. In no other hymn has the sinner’s way to the Saviour been made more plain. Through the penitential self-despair of its earlier verses countless numbers of the weary and heavy-laden have found rest unto their souls, and entered into the joyous confidence of its closing lines. Wordsworth’s daughter, Dora, received the hymn in her last illness, and her husband wrote to the authoress, ‘At least ten times that day she asked me to repeat it to her,’ and every morning she asked for it again till the end came. After her death it formed part of her mother’s ‘daily solitary prayer.’

Miss Elliott is the truest and the best representative of the early evangelical Church hymn-writers. Many of her little-known hymns are very beautiful. I quote two pieces, notwithstanding a breath of Calvinism in them both, for it is a Calvinism that has good Scripture warrant.

‘My soul followeth hard after Thee’ (Ps. lxiii. 8).

I look to Thee, I hope in Thee,I glory in Thy name!I make Thy righteousness my plea,Thou all-atoning Lamb!Methinks even death will welcome be,That I, through death, may pass to Thee.

I look to Thee, I hope in Thee,

I glory in Thy name!

I make Thy righteousness my plea,

Thou all-atoning Lamb!

Methinks even death will welcome be,

That I, through death, may pass to Thee.

Thou art my portion, saith my soul,My all in earth or heaven;None but Thyself can make me whole,No name but Thine is givenAt which the gates of pearl fly wide—The passport of the justified.

Thou art my portion, saith my soul,

My all in earth or heaven;

None but Thyself can make me whole,

No name but Thine is given

At which the gates of pearl fly wide—

The passport of the justified.

I know Thy voice—I strive to keepThy word within my heart;Though the most worthless of Thy sheep,Still Thou my Shepherd art;Firm as a rock that word shall stand,None, none shall pluck me from Thy hand.

I know Thy voice—I strive to keep

Thy word within my heart;

Though the most worthless of Thy sheep,

Still Thou my Shepherd art;

Firm as a rock that word shall stand,

None, none shall pluck me from Thy hand.

Without repentance are Thy gifts;This thought my hope sustains,In deep distress my soul uplifts,When sin the victory gains;My faith, though weak, shall never fail,Thy prayer shall even for me prevail.

Without repentance are Thy gifts;

This thought my hope sustains,

In deep distress my soul uplifts,

When sin the victory gains;

My faith, though weak, shall never fail,

Thy prayer shall even for me prevail.

When I Thy glory shall behold,And see Thee face to face,Sheltered in Thy celestial fold,A sinner saved by grace.What will it be Thy love to adore,Assured I shall go out no more?

When I Thy glory shall behold,

And see Thee face to face,

Sheltered in Thy celestial fold,

A sinner saved by grace.

What will it be Thy love to adore,

Assured I shall go out no more?

The following lines are evidently in part suggested by her own great hymn. The text is ‘Into Thine handI commit my spirit: Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth’ (Ps. xxxi. 5)—

God of my life! Thy boundless graceChose, pardoned, and adopted me;My rest, my home, my dwelling-place!Father! I come to Thee.

God of my life! Thy boundless grace

Chose, pardoned, and adopted me;

My rest, my home, my dwelling-place!

Father! I come to Thee.

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