PART VAMERICAN HYMNODYThe First American HymnI love Thy Zion, Lord,The house of Thine abode;The Church our blest Redeemer savedWith His own precious blood.I love Thy Church, O God;Her walls before Thee stand,Dear as the apple of Thine eye,And graven on Thy hand.For her my tears shall fall;For her my prayers ascend:To her my cares and toil be given,Till toils and cares shall end.Beyond my highest joyI prize her heavenly ways,Her sweet communion, solemn vows,Her hymns of love and praise.Jesus, Thou Friend divine,Our Saviour and our King,Thy hand from every snare and foeShall great deliverance bring.Sure as Thy truth shall last,To Zion shall be givenThe brightest glories earth can yield,And brighter bliss of heaven.Timothy Dwight, 1800.THE BEGINNINGS OF HYMNODY IN AMERICAThe rise of hymnody in America ran parallel with the development of hymn-singing in England. The Puritans who came from Holland in the Mayflower in 1620 were “separatists” from the Church of England, hence they used a psalm-book of their own, published by Henry Ainsworth at Amsterdam in 1612. This was the book that cheered their souls on the perilous crossing of the Atlantic and during the hard and trying years that followed their landing at Plymouth.Amid the storm they sang,And the stars heard and the sea;And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rangWith the anthems of the free.This was also the book that comforted Priscilla, when John Alden stole in and found thatOpen wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of Ainsworth.The later Puritans who came directly from England, on the other hand, were not “separatists,” hence they brought with them the psalm-book of Sternhold and Hopkins, which was the version of the Psaltery approved at that time by the Established Church.The wretched paraphrases of the Psalms in both the Ainsworth and the “orthodox” version of Sternhold and Hopkins eventually led to an insistent demand among the New EnglandPuritans for an entirely new psalm-book which should also adhere more closely to the Hebrew original. The result was the famous “Bay Psalmist” of 1640, which was the first book printed in British America.The Puritan editors of this first attempt at American psalmody cared no more for poetic effect than did their brother versifiers across the waters. This they made quite plain in the concluding words of the Preface to the “Bay Psalmist”: “If therefore the verses are not always so smooth and elegant as some may desire or expect; let them consider that God’s Altar needs not our pollishings: Ex. 20, for wee have respected rather a plaine translation, than to smooth our verses with the sweetness of any paraphrase, and soe have attended to Conscience rather than Elegance, fidelity rather than poetry, in translating the hebrew words into english language, and David’s poetry into english meetre: that soe wee may sing in Sion the Lords songs of praise according to his own will; untill hee take us from hence, and wipe away all our tears, & bid us enter into our masters joye to sing eternall Halleluiahs.”The editors scarcely needed to apprise the worshiper that he should not look for artistic verses, for a glimpse within its pages was sufficient to disillusion any one who expected to find sacred poetry. The metrical form given the 137th Psalm is an example of the Puritan theologians’ contempt for polished language:The rivers on of Babilonthere when wee did sit downe:yea even then wee mourned, whenwee remembred Sion.Our Harps wee did hang it amid,upon the willow tree.Because there they that us awayled in captivitee,Required of us a song, & thusaskt mirth: us waste who laid,sing us among a Sions song,unto us then they said.The lords song sing can wee? beingin strangers land. Then letloose her skill my right hand, if IJerusalem forget.Let cleave my tongue my pallate on,if minde thee doe not I:if chiefe joyes o’er I prize not moreJerusalem my joye.Nevertheless, strange as it may seem, the “Bay Psalmist” passed through twenty-seven editions, and was even reprinted several times abroad, being used extensively in England and Scotland. Gradually, however, psalmody began to lose its hold on the Reformed churches, both in Europe and America, and hymnody gained the ascendancy. The publication in 1707 of the epoch-making work of Isaac Watts, “Hymns and Spiritual Songs,” was the first step in breaking down the prejudice in the Calvinistic churches against “hymns of human composure.” In America the Great Awakening under Jonathan Edwards, which began in 1734 and which received added impetus from the visit of John Whitefield in 1740, also brought about a demand for a happier form of congregational singing. Then came the influence of the Wesleyan revival with its glorious outburst of song.Jonathan Edwards himself, stern Puritan that he was, was finally forced to confess that it was “really needful thatwe should have some other songs than the Psalms of David.” Accordingly hymn singing grew rapidly in favor among the people.The first attempt to introduce hymns in the authorized psalm-books was made by Joel Barlow, a chaplain in the Revolutionary War. Instructed by the General Association of Congregational Churches of Connecticut to revise Watts’ “Psalms of David” in order to purge them of their British flavor, he was likewise authorized to append to the Psalms a collection of hymns. He made a selection of seventy hymns, and the new book was published in 1786.It was received with delight by the Presbyterians, but the Congregationalists who had sponsored it were thoroughly dissatisfied. As an example of the morbid character of Puritan theology, Edward S. Ninde has called attention to the fact that while Barlow failed to include Wesley’s “Jesus, Lover of my soul” or Watts’ “When I survey the wondrous cross,” he did select such a hymn by Watts as “Hark, from the tombs, a doleful sound,” and another beginning with the lines,My thoughts on awful subjects roll,Damnation and the dead.A second attempt to make a complete revision of Watts’ “Psalms of David” was decided upon by the Congregational churches, and this time the task was entrusted to Timothy Dwight, president of Yale College. Dwight, who was a grandson of Jonathan Edwards, was born in 1752. He entered Yale at the age of thirteen and graduated with highest honors in 1769. At the outbreak of the Revolutionary War he was commissioned a chaplain and throughout the conflict he wrote songs to enthuse the American troops. In 1795he was elected president of Yale College, in which position he served his Alma Mater for twenty years.Dwight exhibited a spirit of bold independence when he added to the revised “Psalms” by Watts a collection of two hundred and sixty-three hymns. Of these hymns, one hundred and sixty-eight were also by Watts, indicating the hold which that great hymnist retained on the English-speaking world. Other hymn-writers represented in Dwight’s book included Stennett, Doddridge, Cowper, Newton, Toplady, and Charles Wesley. Only one of the latter’s hymns was chosen, however, and Toplady’s “Rock of Ages” was not included!Dwight himself wrote thirty-three paraphrases of the Psalms, but they were so freely rendered that they are properly classified as original hymns. Among these is his splendid version of the 137th Psalm, “I love Thy Zion, Lord,” which may be regarded as the earliest hymn of American origin still in common use today. It is usually dated 1800, which is the year when Dwight’s work was published.Dwight, who will always be remembered as the outstanding figure in the beginnings of American hymnody, died in 1817. The story of his life is an inspiring one, illustrating how his heroic qualities conquered despite a “thorn in the flesh.” A chronicler records that “during the greater part of forty years he was not able to read fifteen minutes in the twenty-four hours; and often, for days and weeks together, the pain which he endured in that part of the head immediately behind the eyes amounted to anguish.”The Hymn of a Wounded SpiritI love to steal awhile awayFrom every cumbering care,And spend the hour of setting dayIn humble, grateful prayer.I love in solitude to shedThe penitential tear,And all His promises to pleadWhere none but God can hear.I love to think of mercies past,And future good implore,And all my cares and sorrows castOn Him whom I adore.I love by faith to take a viewOf brighter scenes in heaven;The prospect doth my strength renew,While here by tempests driven.Thus when life’s toilsome day is o’er,May its departing rayBe calm as this impressive hourAnd lead to endless day.Phoebe Hinsdale Brown, 1818.AMERICA’S FIRST WOMAN HYMNISTLess than twenty years after Timothy Dwight’s hymns were published, a very poor and unpretentious American woman began to write lyrics that have been treasured by the Church until this present day, nor will they soon be forgotten. Her name was Phoebe Hinsdale Brown, and the story of her life is the most pathetic in the annals of American hymnody.“As to my history,” she wrote near the end of her life, “it is soon told; a sinner saved by grace and sanctified by trials.”She was born at Canaan, N. Y., May 1, 1783. Both parents died before she was two years old and the greater part of her childhood was spent in the home of an older sister who was married to a keeper of a county jail. The cruelties and privations suffered by the orphaned child during these years were such that her son in later years declared that it broke his heart to read of them in his mother’s diary. She was not permitted to attend school, and could neither read nor write. She was eighteen years old before she escaped from this bondage and found opportunity to attend school for three months. This was the extent of her education within school walls.In 1805, at the age of twenty-two, she married Timothy H. Brown, a house painter. He was a good man, but extremely poor. Moving to Ellington, Mass., they lived in a small, unfinished frame house at the edge of the village. Four little children and a sick sister who occupied the only finished room in the house added to the domestic burdens ofMrs. Brown. In the summer of 1818 a pathetic incident occurred that led to the writing of her most famous hymn.There being no place in her crowded home where she might find opportunity for a few moments of quiet prayer and meditation, she would steal away at twilight to the edge of a neighboring estate, where there was a magnificent home surrounded by a beautiful garden.“As there was seldom any one passing that way after dark,” she afterwards wrote, “I felt quite retired and alone with God. I often walked quite up to that beautiful garden ... and felt that I could have the privilege of those few moments of uninterrupted communion with God without encroaching upon any one.”But her movements had been watched, and one day the lady of the mansion turned on her in the presence of others and rudely demanded: “Mrs. Brown, why do you come up at evening so near our house, and then go back without coming in? If you want anything, why don’t you come in and ask for it?”Mrs. Brown tells how she went home, crushed in spirit. “After my children were all in bed, except my baby,” she continues, “I sat down in the kitchen, with my child in my arms, when the grief of my heart burst forth in a flood of tears. I took pen and paper, and gave vent to my oppressed heart in what I called ‘My Apology for my Twilight Rambles, addressed to a Lady.’” The “Apology,” which was sent to the woman who had so cruelly wounded her began with the lines:Yes, when the toilsome day is gone,And night, with banners gray,Steals silently the glade alongIn twilight’s soft array.Then continued the beautiful verses of her now famous “Twilight Hymn:”I love to steal awhile awayFrom little ones and care,And spend the hours of setting dayIn gratitude and prayer.Seven years later, when Dr. Nettleton was preparing his volume of “Village Hymns,” he was told that Mrs. Brown had written some verses. At his request she brought forth her “Twilight Hymn” and three other lyrics, and they were promptly given a place in the collection. Only a few slight changes were made in the lines of the “Twilight Hymn,” including the second line, which was made to read “From every cumbering care,” and the fourth line, which was changed to “In humble, grateful prayer.” Four stanzas were omitted, otherwise the hymn remains almost exactly in the form of the “Apology.”One of the omitted stanzas reveals a beautiful Christian attitude toward death. Mrs. Brown wrote:I love to meditate on death!When shall his message comeWith friendly smiles to steal my breathAnd take an exile home?One of the other hymns by Mrs. Brown included in “Village Hymns” is a missionary lyric, “Go, messenger of love, and bear.” This was written a year earlier than her “Twilight Hymn.” Her little son Samuel was seven years old at the time, and the pious mother’s prayer was that he might be used of the Lord in His service. It was the period when the English-speaking world was experiencing a tremendous revival of interest in foreign missions, and in herheart she cherished the fond hope that her own boy might become a messenger of the gospel. Then came the inspiration for the hymn:Go, messenger of love, and bearUpon thy gentle wingThe song which seraphs love to hear,The angels joy to sing.Go to the heart with sin oppressed,And dry the sorrowing tear;Extract the thorn that wounds the breast,The drooping spirit cheer.Go, say to Zion, “Jesus reigns”—By His resistless powerHe binds His enemies with chains;They fall to rise no more.Tell how the Holy Spirit flies,As He from heaven descends;Arrests His proudest enemies,And changes them to friends.Her prayer was answered. The son, Samuel R. Brown in 1838 sailed as a missionary to China, and eleven years later, when Japan was opened to foreigners, he was transferred to that field. He was the first American missionary to the Japanese.Mrs. Brown died at Henry, Illinois, October 10, 1861. She was buried at Monson, Mass., where some thirty years of her life had been spent. Her son, the missionary, has written this beautiful tribute to her memory:“Her record is on high, and she is with the Lord, whom she loved and served as faithfully as any person I ever knew;nay, more than any other. To her I owe all I am; and if I have done any good in the world, to her, under God, it is due. She seems even now to have me in her hands, holding me up to work for Christ and His cause with a grasp that I can feel. I ought to have been and to be a far better man than I am, having had such a mother.”A Triumphant Missionary HymnHail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning!Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain!Hushed be the accents of sorrow and mourning,Zion in triumph begins her glad reign.Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning,Long by the prophets of Israel foretold!Hail to the millions from bondage returning!Gentiles and Jews the blest vision behold.Lo, in the desert rich flowers are springing,Streams ever copious are gliding along;Loud from the mountain-tops echoes are ringing,Wastes rise in verdure, and mingle in song.Hark, from all lands, from the isles of the ocean,Praise to Jehovah ascending on high;Fallen the engines of war and commotion,Shouts of salvation are rending the sky.Thomas Hastings.THOMAS HASTINGS, POET AND MUSICIANHigh among the names of those who in the early days of America labored to raise the standard of hymnody must be inscribed the name of Thomas Hastings, Doctor of Music. Poet and musician by nature, Hastings may truly be said to have devoted his entire life to the elevation of sacred song.The story of his life is typical of the struggles and hardships of many American pioneers who conquered in spite of the most adverse circumstances. Born at Washington, Conn., October 15, 1784, young Hastings removed with his parents to Clinton, N. Y., when he was only twelve years old. The journey was made in ox-sleds through unbroken wilderness in the dead of winter.The frontier schools of those days offered little opportunity for education, but the eager lad trudged six miles a day to receive the instruction that was given. A passionate fondness for music was first satisfied when he secured a musical primer of four pages costing six pence. The proudest moment in his life came when he was named leader of the village choir.It was not until he was thirty-two years old that Hastings was able to secure employment as a music teacher, but from that time until his death, in 1872, he devoted all his energies to the work he loved.Hastings was ever tireless in contending that good music should have a recognized place in religious worship. From1823 to 1832, during which time he edited the Western Recorder, in Utica, N. Y., he had an excellent opportunity to spread his views on music. In the latter year twelve churches in New York City jointly engaged his services as choir director, and for the remainder of his life Hastings made the great American metropolis his home.Though seriously handicapped by eye trouble, Hastings produced a prodigious amount of work. It is claimed that he wrote more than one thousand hymn tunes. He also published fifty volumes of church music. Some of the finest tunes in our American hymnals were composed by him. Who has not found inspiration in singing that sweet and haunting melody known as “Ortonville”? And how can we ever be sufficiently grateful for the tune called “Toplady,” which has endeared “Rock of Ages” to millions of hearts? Besides these there are at least a score of other beautiful hymn tunes that have been loved by the singing Church for nearly a century, any one of which would have won for the composer an enduring name.Through the composing of tunes, Hastings was led to write words for hymns. More than six hundred are attributed to him, although many were written anonymously. “Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning” is generally regarded as his best hymn. It strikingly reflects the spirit of the missionary age in which Hastings lived.Another very popular and stirring missionary hymn, written by Hastings in 1831, is a song of two stanzas:Now be the gospel bannerIn every land unfurled;And be the shout, Hosannah!Reechoed through the world;Till every isle and nation,Till every tribe and tongue,Receive the great salvation,And join the happy throng.Yes, Thou shalt reign forever,O Jesus, King of kings!Thy light, Thy love, Thy favor,Each ransomed captive sings:The isles for Thee are waiting,The deserts learn Thy praise,The hills and valleys, greeting,The songs responsive raise.A hymn with the title, “Pilgrimage of Life,” though very simple, is singularly beautiful and very tender in its appeal. The first stanza reads:Gently, Lord, O gently lead us,Pilgrims in this vale of tears,Through the trials yet decreed us,Till our last great change appears.Hastings did not cease writing and composing hymns until three days before his death. It is said that more of his hymns are found in the standard church hymnals of America than those of any other American writer. Their survival through almost a century is a testimony to their enduring quality.Key’s Hymn of PraiseLord, with glowing heart I’d praise theeFor the bliss Thy love bestows,For the pardoning grace that saves me,And the peace that from it flows.Help, O God, my weak endeavor;This dull soul to rapture raise;Thou must light the flame, or neverCan my love be warmed to praise.Praise, my soul, the God that sought thee,Wretched wanderer, far astray;Found thee lost, and kindly brought theeFrom the paths of death away;Praise, with love’s devoutest feeling,Him who saw thy guilt-born fear,And, the light of hope revealing,Bade the blood-stained cross appear.Lord, this bosom’s ardent feelingVainly would my lips express;Low before Thy footstool kneeling,Deign Thy suppliant’s prayer to bless;Let Thy grace, my soul’s chief treasure,Love’s pure flame within me raise;And, since words can never measure,Let my life show forth Thy praise.Francis Scott Key, 1823.FRANCIS SCOTT KEY, PATRIOT AND HYMNISTFrancis Scott Key is known to every American child as the author of our national anthem, “The star spangled banner”; but his fame as a Christian hymnist has not gone abroad to the same degree. And yet, as the author of “Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise Thee,” he ranks among the foremost of American hymn-writers.Key lived during the stirring days of our country’s early history. His father was an officer in the Continental army who fought with distinction during the Revolutionary War. Francis was born at Frederick, Maryland, August 1, 1779. After receiving a legal education he began to practice law in Washington, and served as United States district attorney for three terms, holding that office at the time of his death.The story of how he came to write “Star spangled banner” scarcely needs to be repeated. It was during the War of 1812 that Key was authorized by President Madison to visit the British fleet near the mouth of the Potomac in order to obtain the release of a friend who had been captured.The British admiral granted Key’s request, but owing to the fact that an attack was about to be made on Fort McHenry, which guarded the harbor of Baltimore, Key and his party were detained all night aboard the truce-boat on which they had come.It was a night of great anxiety. A fierce bombardmentcontinued during the hours of darkness, and as long as the shore fortifications replied to the cannonading, Key and his friends were certain that all was well. Toward morning, the firing ceased, and they were filled with dark forebodings. The others went below to obtain some sleep, but Key continued to pace the deck until the first streaks of dawn showed that the “flag was still there.”His joy was so unbounded that he seized a piece of paper, and hastily wrote the words of his famous anthem. It was not completed until later in the day, when he reached Baltimore and joined in the victorious joy that filled the city.While “Star spangled banner” is not a Christian hymn, there are noble sentiments in it that reveal the writer at once as a devout Christian, and this was eminently true of Key.As a member of the Protestant Episcopal Church he held a lay reader’s license, and for many years read the service and visited the sick. He also conducted a Bible class in Sunday school. Although he lived in a slave state, he was finally moved by conscientious scruples to free his slaves. He also did much to alleviate conditions among other unfortunate blacks.When the Protestant Episcopal Church in 1823 appointed a committee to prepare a new hymn-book for that body, Key was made a lay member of it. Another member of the committee was Dr. William Muhlenberg, who in that same year had published a little hymnal for use in his own congregation. It was in this hymnal, known as “Church Poetry”, that Key’s beautiful hymn, “Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise Thee,” was first published.In Dr. Muhlenberg’s hymn-book the hymn had onlythree stanzas, and that is the form in which it has since appeared in all other hymnals. In 1900, however, Key’s autograph copy of the hymn was discovered, and it was found that the hymn originally had four stanzas. The missing one reads:Praise thy Saviour God that drew theeTo that cross, new life to give,Held a blood-sealed pardon to thee,Bade thee look to Him and live.Praise the grace whose threats alarmed thee,Roused thee from thy fatal ease,Praise the grace whose promise warmed thee,Praise the grace that whispered peace.Another excellent hymn, “Before the Lord we bow”, was written by Key in 1832 for a Fourth of July celebration.A bronze statue of Key, placed over his grave at Frederick, Md., shows him with his hand outstretched, as at the moment when he discovered the flag “still there,” while his other hand is waving his hat exultantly.Bryant’s Home Mission HymnLook from Thy sphere of endless day,O God of mercy and of might!In pity look on those who strayBenighted, in this land of light.In peopled vale, in lonely glen,In crowded mart, by stream or sea,How many of the sons of menHear not the message sent from Thee!Send forth Thy heralds, Lord, to callThe thoughtless young, the hardened old,A scattered, homeless flock, till allBe gathered to Thy peaceful fold.Send them Thy mighty Word to speak,Till faith shall dawn, and doubt depart,To awe the bold, to stay the weak,And bind and heal the broken heart.Then all these wastes, a dreary sceneThat makes us sadden, as we gaze,Shall grow with living waters green,And lift to heaven the voice of praise.William Cullen Bryant, 1840.AMERICA’S FIRST POET AND HIS HYMNSWilliam Cullen Bryant, America’s first great poet, was also a hymn-writer. Although he did not devote much of his thought and genius to sacred lyrics, he wrote at least two splendid hymns that merit a place in every hymn collection. The one, “Thou, whose unmeasured temple stands,” is a church dedication hymn of rare beauty; the other, “Look from Thy sphere of endless day,” is unquestionably one of the finest home mission hymns ever written.Born at Cummington, Mass., November 3, 1794, he was educated at Williams College to be a lawyer. It was his writing of “Thanatopsis” as a boy of seventeen years that gave the first notice to the world that America had produced a great poet.It is said that when the lines of “Thanatopsis” were submitted to Richard H. Dana, editor of the “North American Review,” he was skeptical.“No one on this side of the Atlantic,” he declared, “is capable of writing such verses.”Bryant was brought up in a typical New England Puritan home. Family worship and strict attendance at public worship was the rule in the Bryant household. Every little while the children of the community would also gather in the district schoolhouse, where they would be examined in the Catechism by the parish minister, a venerable man who was loved by old and young alike.While yet a little child Bryant began to pray that hemight receive the gift of writing poetry. No doubt he had been influenced to a large degree in this desire by the fact that his father was a lover of verse and possessed a splendid library of the great English poets. The youthful Bryant was taught to memorize the noble hymns of Isaac Watts, and when he was only five years old he would stand on a chair and recite them to imaginary audiences.Early in life Bryant came under the influence of the Unitarian doctrines which were then sweeping through New England as a reaction against the stern, harsh teachings of Puritanism. When he was only twenty-six years old he was invited to contribute to a volume of hymns then in course of preparation by the Unitarians. He responded by writing five hymns. Six years later he wrote “Thou, whose unmeasured temple stands” for the dedication of the Second Unitarian Church of New York City. He usually attended the First Congregational Unitarian Church of that city.About thirty years later, however, when Bryant was sixty-four years old, a profound change occurred in his religious convictions. During a trip abroad his wife became critically ill in Naples. At first her life was despaired of, but when she finally was on the road to recovery Bryant sent for a warm friend of the family, Rev. R. C. Waterston, who was in Naples at the time. The latter tells of his meeting with the aged poet in the following words:“On the following day, the weather being delightful, we walked in the royal park or garden overlooking the Bay of Naples. Never can I forget the beautiful spirit that breathed through every word he (Bryant) uttered, the reverent love, the confiding trust, the aspiring hope, the rooted faith.... He said that he had never united himself with the Church, which, with his present feeling, he would mostgladly do. He then asked if it would be agreeable to me to come to his room on the morrow and administer the communion, adding that, as he had never been baptized, he desired that ordinance at the same time.“The day following was the Sabbath, and a most heavenly day. In fulfilment of his wishes, in his own quiet room, a company of seven persons celebrated together the Lord’s Supper.... Previous to the breaking of bread, William Cullen Bryant was baptized. With snow-white head and flowing beard, he stood like one of the ancient prophets, and perhaps never, since the days of the apostles, has a truer disciple professed allegiance to the divine Master.”Twenty years after this experience, in the last year of the poet’s life, he made some contributions to the Methodist Episcopal hymnal. A revision of one of the hymns which he had written in 1820 for the Unitarian hymnal reveals his changed attitude toward the Lord Jesus Christ. For the Unitarian book he had written:Deem not that they are blest aloneWhose days a peaceful tenor keep;The God who loves our race has shownA blessing for the eyes that weep.For the Methodist hymn-book he changed the third line to read:The anointed Son of God makes known.The hymn was sung in its changed form at the poet’s funeral, as well as another beautiful hymn entitled “The Star of Bethlehem,” written in 1875 for the semi-centennial of the Church of the Messiah in Boston.An Exquisite Baptismal HymnSaviour, who Thy flock art feedingWith the shepherd’s kindest care,All the feeble gently leading,While the lambs Thy bosom share.Now, these little ones receiving,Fold them in Thy gracious arm;There, we know, Thy word believing,Only there secure from harm.Never, from Thy pasture roving,Let them be the lion’s prey;Let Thy tenderness, so loving,Keep them through life’s dangerous way.Then, within Thy fold eternal,Let them find a resting place,Feed in pastures ever vernal,Drink the rivers of Thy grace.William Augustus Muhlenberg, 1826.THE HYMN-WRITER OF THE MUHLENBERGSWilliam Augustus Muhlenberg, one of America’s early hymn-writers, came from a most distinguished family. His great grandfather, Henry Melchior Muhlenberg, was the “patriarch of the Lutheran Church in America,” having come to these shores from Germany in 1742, and being the founder in that year of the first permanent Lutheran organization in the new world.A son of the patriarch and grandfather of the hymn-writer bore the name of Frederick Augustus Muhlenberg. He, too, was a Lutheran minister, but during the stirring days of the Revolutionary period he entered into the political affairs of the struggling colonies. He was president of the convention which ratified the Constitution of the United States and also served as first speaker of the new House of Representatives. His brother, Rev. Peter Muhlenberg, was also a distinguished patriot. When the Revolution broke out, he was serving a congregation at Woodstock, Va. It was he who stood in the pulpit of his church and, throwing aside his clerical robe, stood revealed in the uniform of a Continental colonel.“There is a time to preach and a time to pray,” he cried, “but these times have passed away. There is a time to fight, and that time has now come!”Thereupon he called upon the men of his congregation to enlist in his regiment. Before the war ended he had risen to the rank of major general.William Augustus Muhlenberg, the hymn-writer, was born in Philadelphia in 1796. Since the German language was then being used exclusively in the German Lutheran churches, he and his little sister were allowed to attend Christ Episcopal Church. In this way William Augustus drifted away from the Church of his great forbears, and when he grew up he became a clergyman in the Episcopal communion.It is evident that Muhlenberg brought something of the spirit of the “singing church” into the church of his adoption, for in 1821 he issued a tract with the title, “A Plea for Christian Hymns.” It appears that the Episcopal Church at this time was using a prayer-book that included only fifty-seven hymns, and no one felt the poverty of his Church in this respect more keenly than did Muhlenberg.Two years later the General Convention of the Episcopal body voted to prepare a hymn-book, and Muhlenberg was made a member of the committee. One of his associates was Francis Scott Key, author of “Star spangled banner.”As a member of the committee Muhlenberg contributed four original hymns to the new collection. They were “I would not live alway,” “Like Noah’s weary dove,” “Shout the glad tidings, triumphantly sing,” and “Saviour, who Thy flock art leading.” The latter is a baptism hymn and is one of the most exquisite lyrics on that theme ever written. Although Muhlenberg never married, he had a very deep love for children. No service seemed so hallowed to him as the baptism of a little child. It is said that shortly after his ordination, when asked to officiate at such a rite, Muhlenberg flushed and hesitated, and then asked a bishop who was present to baptize the babe. The latter, however, insisted that the young clergyman should carry out the holy ordinance,and from that day there was no duty that afforded Muhlenberg more joy.Muhlenberg often expressed regret that he had written “I would not live alway.” It seems that the poem was called into being in 1824, following a “heart-breaking disappointment in the matter of love.” Muhlenberg was a young man at the time, and in his later years he sought to alter it in such a way that it would breathe more of the hopeful spirit of the New Testament. He contended that Paul’s words, “For me to live is Christ” were far better than Job’s lament, “I would not live alway.” However, the hymn as originally written had become so fixed in the consciousness of the Church, that all efforts of the author to revise it were in vain.Nearly all the hymns of Muhlenberg that have lived were written during his earlier years. His later ministry centered in New York City, where he was head of a boys’ school for a number of years, and later rector of the Church of the Holy Communion. He soon became an outstanding leader in the great metropolis. After having founded St. Luke’s hospital, the first church institution of its kind in New York City, he spent the last twenty years of his life as its superintendent.His death occurred when he was past eighty years. It is said that when the end was drawing near, the hospital chaplain came to his bedside to pray for his recovery.“Let us have an understanding about this,” said the dying Muhlenberg. “You are asking God to restore me and I am asking God to take me home. There must not be a contradiction in our prayers, for it is evident that He cannot answer them both.”The Way, the Truth, and the LifeThou art the Way; to Thee aloneFrom sin and death we flee,And he who would the Father seek,Must seek Him, Lord, by Thee.Thou art the Truth; Thy Word aloneSound wisdom can impart;Thou only canst inform the mind,And purify the heart.Thou art the Life; the rending tombProclaims Thy conquering arm;And those who put their trust in TheeNor 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 winWhose joys eternal flow.George Washington Doane, 1824.THE LYRICS OF BISHOP DOANECritics will forever disagree on the subject of the relative merits of great hymns. Bishop George Washington Doane’s fine hymn, “Thou art the Way; to Thee alone,” has been declared by some to be the foremost of all hymns written by American authors. Dr. Breed, on the other hand, declares that it is “by no means the equal” of other hymns by Doane. Another authority observes that it “rather stiffly and mechanically paraphrases” the passage on which it is founded, while Edward S. Ninde rejects this conclusion by contending that although “metrical expositions of Scriptures are apt to be stilted and spiritless ... this one is a success.”Ninde, however, does not agree that it is “the first of American hymns,” reserving this honor, as do most critics, for Ray Palmer’s “My faith looks up to Thee.”Bishop Doane was born in Trenton, N. J., May 27, 1799. This was the year in which George Washington died. The future hymn-writer was named after the great patriot. At the age of nineteen he was graduated by Union College with the highest scholastic honors. After teaching for a season, he became pastor of Trinity Episcopal Church, Boston, Mass., the church afterwards made famous by Phillips Brooks.When only thirty-three years old he was elevated to the bishopric of New Jersey, which position he held until his death in 1859. By this time he had already won fame as a hymn-writer. It was in 1824, at the age of twenty-five, thatDoane published a little volume of lyrics entitled “Songs by the Way.” One of the hymns in this collection was the beautiful paraphrase, “Thou art the Way; to Thee alone.” This hymn alone would have been sufficient to have perpetuated the name of the young poet, but there was another gem in the same collection that will always be treasured by those who love Christian song. It is the exquisite evening hymn:Softly now the light of dayFades upon my sight away;Free from care, from labor free,Lord, I would commune with Thee.Among the many achievements of this versatile bishop was the founding of Saint Mary’s Hall, a school for young women, at Burlington, N. J. Doane lies buried in the neighboring churchyard, and it is said that the students on every Wednesday evening at chapel services sing “Softly now the light of day” as a memorial tribute to the founder of the institution.Both of these hymns were quickly recognized as possessing unusual merit, and almost immediately found their way into Christian hymn-books. Today there is scarcely a hymnal published in the English language that does not contain them.But Bishop Doane’s fame does not rest on these two hymns alone. He was destined to write a third one, equally great but of a very different character from the other two. It is the stirring missionary hymn:Fling out the banner! let it floatSkyward and seaward, high and wide;The sun that lights its shining folds,The cross, on which the Saviour died.It was written in 1848 in response to a request from the young women of St. Mary’s Hall for a hymn to be used at a flag-raising. The third stanza is one of rare beauty:Fling out the banner! heathen landsShall see from far the glorious sight,And nations, crowding to be born,Baptize their spirits in its light.The hymn, as may be surmised, is based on the passage from the Psaltery: “Thou hast given a banner to them that fear thee, that it may be displayed because of the truth.”Bishop Doane was a zealous advocate of missions. It was during his childhood that the modern missionary movement had its inception and swept like a tidal wave over the Christian world. “Fling out the banner” is a reflection of the remarkable enthusiasm that filled his own soul and that revealed itself in his aggressive missionary leadership. Indeed, he became known in his own Church as “the missionary bishop of America.”A son, William C. Doane, also became one of the most distinguished bishops of the Episcopal Church. Writing of his father’s rare gifts as a hymnist, he declares that his heart was “full of song. It oozed out in his conversation, in his sermons, in everything that he did. Sometimes in a steamboat, often when the back of a letter was his only paper, the sweetest things came.”
The First American HymnI love Thy Zion, Lord,The house of Thine abode;The Church our blest Redeemer savedWith His own precious blood.I love Thy Church, O God;Her walls before Thee stand,Dear as the apple of Thine eye,And graven on Thy hand.For her my tears shall fall;For her my prayers ascend:To her my cares and toil be given,Till toils and cares shall end.Beyond my highest joyI prize her heavenly ways,Her sweet communion, solemn vows,Her hymns of love and praise.Jesus, Thou Friend divine,Our Saviour and our King,Thy hand from every snare and foeShall great deliverance bring.Sure as Thy truth shall last,To Zion shall be givenThe brightest glories earth can yield,And brighter bliss of heaven.Timothy Dwight, 1800.
I love Thy Zion, Lord,The house of Thine abode;The Church our blest Redeemer savedWith His own precious blood.
I love Thy Zion, Lord,
The house of Thine abode;
The Church our blest Redeemer saved
With His own precious blood.
I love Thy Church, O God;Her walls before Thee stand,Dear as the apple of Thine eye,And graven on Thy hand.
I love Thy Church, O God;
Her walls before Thee stand,
Dear as the apple of Thine eye,
And graven on Thy hand.
For her my tears shall fall;For her my prayers ascend:To her my cares and toil be given,Till toils and cares shall end.
For her my tears shall fall;
For her my prayers ascend:
To her my cares and toil be given,
Till toils and cares shall end.
Beyond my highest joyI prize her heavenly ways,Her sweet communion, solemn vows,Her hymns of love and praise.
Beyond my highest joy
I prize her heavenly ways,
Her sweet communion, solemn vows,
Her hymns of love and praise.
Jesus, Thou Friend divine,Our Saviour and our King,Thy hand from every snare and foeShall great deliverance bring.
Jesus, Thou Friend divine,
Our Saviour and our King,
Thy hand from every snare and foe
Shall great deliverance bring.
Sure as Thy truth shall last,To Zion shall be givenThe brightest glories earth can yield,And brighter bliss of heaven.
Sure as Thy truth shall last,
To Zion shall be given
The brightest glories earth can yield,
And brighter bliss of heaven.
Timothy Dwight, 1800.
THE BEGINNINGS OF HYMNODY IN AMERICAThe rise of hymnody in America ran parallel with the development of hymn-singing in England. The Puritans who came from Holland in the Mayflower in 1620 were “separatists” from the Church of England, hence they used a psalm-book of their own, published by Henry Ainsworth at Amsterdam in 1612. This was the book that cheered their souls on the perilous crossing of the Atlantic and during the hard and trying years that followed their landing at Plymouth.Amid the storm they sang,And the stars heard and the sea;And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rangWith the anthems of the free.This was also the book that comforted Priscilla, when John Alden stole in and found thatOpen wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of Ainsworth.The later Puritans who came directly from England, on the other hand, were not “separatists,” hence they brought with them the psalm-book of Sternhold and Hopkins, which was the version of the Psaltery approved at that time by the Established Church.The wretched paraphrases of the Psalms in both the Ainsworth and the “orthodox” version of Sternhold and Hopkins eventually led to an insistent demand among the New EnglandPuritans for an entirely new psalm-book which should also adhere more closely to the Hebrew original. The result was the famous “Bay Psalmist” of 1640, which was the first book printed in British America.The Puritan editors of this first attempt at American psalmody cared no more for poetic effect than did their brother versifiers across the waters. This they made quite plain in the concluding words of the Preface to the “Bay Psalmist”: “If therefore the verses are not always so smooth and elegant as some may desire or expect; let them consider that God’s Altar needs not our pollishings: Ex. 20, for wee have respected rather a plaine translation, than to smooth our verses with the sweetness of any paraphrase, and soe have attended to Conscience rather than Elegance, fidelity rather than poetry, in translating the hebrew words into english language, and David’s poetry into english meetre: that soe wee may sing in Sion the Lords songs of praise according to his own will; untill hee take us from hence, and wipe away all our tears, & bid us enter into our masters joye to sing eternall Halleluiahs.”The editors scarcely needed to apprise the worshiper that he should not look for artistic verses, for a glimpse within its pages was sufficient to disillusion any one who expected to find sacred poetry. The metrical form given the 137th Psalm is an example of the Puritan theologians’ contempt for polished language:The rivers on of Babilonthere when wee did sit downe:yea even then wee mourned, whenwee remembred Sion.Our Harps wee did hang it amid,upon the willow tree.Because there they that us awayled in captivitee,Required of us a song, & thusaskt mirth: us waste who laid,sing us among a Sions song,unto us then they said.The lords song sing can wee? beingin strangers land. Then letloose her skill my right hand, if IJerusalem forget.Let cleave my tongue my pallate on,if minde thee doe not I:if chiefe joyes o’er I prize not moreJerusalem my joye.Nevertheless, strange as it may seem, the “Bay Psalmist” passed through twenty-seven editions, and was even reprinted several times abroad, being used extensively in England and Scotland. Gradually, however, psalmody began to lose its hold on the Reformed churches, both in Europe and America, and hymnody gained the ascendancy. The publication in 1707 of the epoch-making work of Isaac Watts, “Hymns and Spiritual Songs,” was the first step in breaking down the prejudice in the Calvinistic churches against “hymns of human composure.” In America the Great Awakening under Jonathan Edwards, which began in 1734 and which received added impetus from the visit of John Whitefield in 1740, also brought about a demand for a happier form of congregational singing. Then came the influence of the Wesleyan revival with its glorious outburst of song.Jonathan Edwards himself, stern Puritan that he was, was finally forced to confess that it was “really needful thatwe should have some other songs than the Psalms of David.” Accordingly hymn singing grew rapidly in favor among the people.The first attempt to introduce hymns in the authorized psalm-books was made by Joel Barlow, a chaplain in the Revolutionary War. Instructed by the General Association of Congregational Churches of Connecticut to revise Watts’ “Psalms of David” in order to purge them of their British flavor, he was likewise authorized to append to the Psalms a collection of hymns. He made a selection of seventy hymns, and the new book was published in 1786.It was received with delight by the Presbyterians, but the Congregationalists who had sponsored it were thoroughly dissatisfied. As an example of the morbid character of Puritan theology, Edward S. Ninde has called attention to the fact that while Barlow failed to include Wesley’s “Jesus, Lover of my soul” or Watts’ “When I survey the wondrous cross,” he did select such a hymn by Watts as “Hark, from the tombs, a doleful sound,” and another beginning with the lines,My thoughts on awful subjects roll,Damnation and the dead.A second attempt to make a complete revision of Watts’ “Psalms of David” was decided upon by the Congregational churches, and this time the task was entrusted to Timothy Dwight, president of Yale College. Dwight, who was a grandson of Jonathan Edwards, was born in 1752. He entered Yale at the age of thirteen and graduated with highest honors in 1769. At the outbreak of the Revolutionary War he was commissioned a chaplain and throughout the conflict he wrote songs to enthuse the American troops. In 1795he was elected president of Yale College, in which position he served his Alma Mater for twenty years.Dwight exhibited a spirit of bold independence when he added to the revised “Psalms” by Watts a collection of two hundred and sixty-three hymns. Of these hymns, one hundred and sixty-eight were also by Watts, indicating the hold which that great hymnist retained on the English-speaking world. Other hymn-writers represented in Dwight’s book included Stennett, Doddridge, Cowper, Newton, Toplady, and Charles Wesley. Only one of the latter’s hymns was chosen, however, and Toplady’s “Rock of Ages” was not included!Dwight himself wrote thirty-three paraphrases of the Psalms, but they were so freely rendered that they are properly classified as original hymns. Among these is his splendid version of the 137th Psalm, “I love Thy Zion, Lord,” which may be regarded as the earliest hymn of American origin still in common use today. It is usually dated 1800, which is the year when Dwight’s work was published.Dwight, who will always be remembered as the outstanding figure in the beginnings of American hymnody, died in 1817. The story of his life is an inspiring one, illustrating how his heroic qualities conquered despite a “thorn in the flesh.” A chronicler records that “during the greater part of forty years he was not able to read fifteen minutes in the twenty-four hours; and often, for days and weeks together, the pain which he endured in that part of the head immediately behind the eyes amounted to anguish.”
The rise of hymnody in America ran parallel with the development of hymn-singing in England. The Puritans who came from Holland in the Mayflower in 1620 were “separatists” from the Church of England, hence they used a psalm-book of their own, published by Henry Ainsworth at Amsterdam in 1612. This was the book that cheered their souls on the perilous crossing of the Atlantic and during the hard and trying years that followed their landing at Plymouth.
Amid the storm they sang,And the stars heard and the sea;And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rangWith the anthems of the free.
Amid the storm they sang,And the stars heard and the sea;And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rangWith the anthems of the free.
Amid the storm they sang,
And the stars heard and the sea;
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
With the anthems of the free.
This was also the book that comforted Priscilla, when John Alden stole in and found that
Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of Ainsworth.
Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of Ainsworth.
Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of Ainsworth.
The later Puritans who came directly from England, on the other hand, were not “separatists,” hence they brought with them the psalm-book of Sternhold and Hopkins, which was the version of the Psaltery approved at that time by the Established Church.
The wretched paraphrases of the Psalms in both the Ainsworth and the “orthodox” version of Sternhold and Hopkins eventually led to an insistent demand among the New EnglandPuritans for an entirely new psalm-book which should also adhere more closely to the Hebrew original. The result was the famous “Bay Psalmist” of 1640, which was the first book printed in British America.
The Puritan editors of this first attempt at American psalmody cared no more for poetic effect than did their brother versifiers across the waters. This they made quite plain in the concluding words of the Preface to the “Bay Psalmist”: “If therefore the verses are not always so smooth and elegant as some may desire or expect; let them consider that God’s Altar needs not our pollishings: Ex. 20, for wee have respected rather a plaine translation, than to smooth our verses with the sweetness of any paraphrase, and soe have attended to Conscience rather than Elegance, fidelity rather than poetry, in translating the hebrew words into english language, and David’s poetry into english meetre: that soe wee may sing in Sion the Lords songs of praise according to his own will; untill hee take us from hence, and wipe away all our tears, & bid us enter into our masters joye to sing eternall Halleluiahs.”
The editors scarcely needed to apprise the worshiper that he should not look for artistic verses, for a glimpse within its pages was sufficient to disillusion any one who expected to find sacred poetry. The metrical form given the 137th Psalm is an example of the Puritan theologians’ contempt for polished language:
The rivers on of Babilonthere when wee did sit downe:yea even then wee mourned, whenwee remembred Sion.Our Harps wee did hang it amid,upon the willow tree.Because there they that us awayled in captivitee,Required of us a song, & thusaskt mirth: us waste who laid,sing us among a Sions song,unto us then they said.The lords song sing can wee? beingin strangers land. Then letloose her skill my right hand, if IJerusalem forget.Let cleave my tongue my pallate on,if minde thee doe not I:if chiefe joyes o’er I prize not moreJerusalem my joye.
The rivers on of Babilonthere when wee did sit downe:yea even then wee mourned, whenwee remembred Sion.
The rivers on of Babilon
there when wee did sit downe:
yea even then wee mourned, when
wee remembred Sion.
Our Harps wee did hang it amid,upon the willow tree.Because there they that us awayled in captivitee,
Our Harps wee did hang it amid,
upon the willow tree.
Because there they that us away
led in captivitee,
Required of us a song, & thusaskt mirth: us waste who laid,sing us among a Sions song,unto us then they said.
Required of us a song, & thus
askt mirth: us waste who laid,
sing us among a Sions song,
unto us then they said.
The lords song sing can wee? beingin strangers land. Then letloose her skill my right hand, if IJerusalem forget.
The lords song sing can wee? being
in strangers land. Then let
loose her skill my right hand, if I
Jerusalem forget.
Let cleave my tongue my pallate on,if minde thee doe not I:if chiefe joyes o’er I prize not moreJerusalem my joye.
Let cleave my tongue my pallate on,
if minde thee doe not I:
if chiefe joyes o’er I prize not more
Jerusalem my joye.
Nevertheless, strange as it may seem, the “Bay Psalmist” passed through twenty-seven editions, and was even reprinted several times abroad, being used extensively in England and Scotland. Gradually, however, psalmody began to lose its hold on the Reformed churches, both in Europe and America, and hymnody gained the ascendancy. The publication in 1707 of the epoch-making work of Isaac Watts, “Hymns and Spiritual Songs,” was the first step in breaking down the prejudice in the Calvinistic churches against “hymns of human composure.” In America the Great Awakening under Jonathan Edwards, which began in 1734 and which received added impetus from the visit of John Whitefield in 1740, also brought about a demand for a happier form of congregational singing. Then came the influence of the Wesleyan revival with its glorious outburst of song.
Jonathan Edwards himself, stern Puritan that he was, was finally forced to confess that it was “really needful thatwe should have some other songs than the Psalms of David.” Accordingly hymn singing grew rapidly in favor among the people.
The first attempt to introduce hymns in the authorized psalm-books was made by Joel Barlow, a chaplain in the Revolutionary War. Instructed by the General Association of Congregational Churches of Connecticut to revise Watts’ “Psalms of David” in order to purge them of their British flavor, he was likewise authorized to append to the Psalms a collection of hymns. He made a selection of seventy hymns, and the new book was published in 1786.
It was received with delight by the Presbyterians, but the Congregationalists who had sponsored it were thoroughly dissatisfied. As an example of the morbid character of Puritan theology, Edward S. Ninde has called attention to the fact that while Barlow failed to include Wesley’s “Jesus, Lover of my soul” or Watts’ “When I survey the wondrous cross,” he did select such a hymn by Watts as “Hark, from the tombs, a doleful sound,” and another beginning with the lines,
My thoughts on awful subjects roll,Damnation and the dead.
My thoughts on awful subjects roll,Damnation and the dead.
My thoughts on awful subjects roll,
Damnation and the dead.
A second attempt to make a complete revision of Watts’ “Psalms of David” was decided upon by the Congregational churches, and this time the task was entrusted to Timothy Dwight, president of Yale College. Dwight, who was a grandson of Jonathan Edwards, was born in 1752. He entered Yale at the age of thirteen and graduated with highest honors in 1769. At the outbreak of the Revolutionary War he was commissioned a chaplain and throughout the conflict he wrote songs to enthuse the American troops. In 1795he was elected president of Yale College, in which position he served his Alma Mater for twenty years.
Dwight exhibited a spirit of bold independence when he added to the revised “Psalms” by Watts a collection of two hundred and sixty-three hymns. Of these hymns, one hundred and sixty-eight were also by Watts, indicating the hold which that great hymnist retained on the English-speaking world. Other hymn-writers represented in Dwight’s book included Stennett, Doddridge, Cowper, Newton, Toplady, and Charles Wesley. Only one of the latter’s hymns was chosen, however, and Toplady’s “Rock of Ages” was not included!
Dwight himself wrote thirty-three paraphrases of the Psalms, but they were so freely rendered that they are properly classified as original hymns. Among these is his splendid version of the 137th Psalm, “I love Thy Zion, Lord,” which may be regarded as the earliest hymn of American origin still in common use today. It is usually dated 1800, which is the year when Dwight’s work was published.
Dwight, who will always be remembered as the outstanding figure in the beginnings of American hymnody, died in 1817. The story of his life is an inspiring one, illustrating how his heroic qualities conquered despite a “thorn in the flesh.” A chronicler records that “during the greater part of forty years he was not able to read fifteen minutes in the twenty-four hours; and often, for days and weeks together, the pain which he endured in that part of the head immediately behind the eyes amounted to anguish.”
The Hymn of a Wounded SpiritI love to steal awhile awayFrom every cumbering care,And spend the hour of setting dayIn humble, grateful prayer.I love in solitude to shedThe penitential tear,And all His promises to pleadWhere none but God can hear.I love to think of mercies past,And future good implore,And all my cares and sorrows castOn Him whom I adore.I love by faith to take a viewOf brighter scenes in heaven;The prospect doth my strength renew,While here by tempests driven.Thus when life’s toilsome day is o’er,May its departing rayBe calm as this impressive hourAnd lead to endless day.Phoebe Hinsdale Brown, 1818.
I love to steal awhile awayFrom every cumbering care,And spend the hour of setting dayIn humble, grateful prayer.
I love to steal awhile away
From every cumbering care,
And spend the hour of setting day
In humble, grateful prayer.
I love in solitude to shedThe penitential tear,And all His promises to pleadWhere none but God can hear.
I love in solitude to shed
The penitential tear,
And all His promises to plead
Where none but God can hear.
I love to think of mercies past,And future good implore,And all my cares and sorrows castOn Him whom I adore.
I love to think of mercies past,
And future good implore,
And all my cares and sorrows cast
On Him whom I adore.
I love by faith to take a viewOf brighter scenes in heaven;The prospect doth my strength renew,While here by tempests driven.
I love by faith to take a view
Of brighter scenes in heaven;
The prospect doth my strength renew,
While here by tempests driven.
Thus when life’s toilsome day is o’er,May its departing rayBe calm as this impressive hourAnd lead to endless day.
Thus when life’s toilsome day is o’er,
May its departing ray
Be calm as this impressive hour
And lead to endless day.
Phoebe Hinsdale Brown, 1818.
AMERICA’S FIRST WOMAN HYMNISTLess than twenty years after Timothy Dwight’s hymns were published, a very poor and unpretentious American woman began to write lyrics that have been treasured by the Church until this present day, nor will they soon be forgotten. Her name was Phoebe Hinsdale Brown, and the story of her life is the most pathetic in the annals of American hymnody.“As to my history,” she wrote near the end of her life, “it is soon told; a sinner saved by grace and sanctified by trials.”She was born at Canaan, N. Y., May 1, 1783. Both parents died before she was two years old and the greater part of her childhood was spent in the home of an older sister who was married to a keeper of a county jail. The cruelties and privations suffered by the orphaned child during these years were such that her son in later years declared that it broke his heart to read of them in his mother’s diary. She was not permitted to attend school, and could neither read nor write. She was eighteen years old before she escaped from this bondage and found opportunity to attend school for three months. This was the extent of her education within school walls.In 1805, at the age of twenty-two, she married Timothy H. Brown, a house painter. He was a good man, but extremely poor. Moving to Ellington, Mass., they lived in a small, unfinished frame house at the edge of the village. Four little children and a sick sister who occupied the only finished room in the house added to the domestic burdens ofMrs. Brown. In the summer of 1818 a pathetic incident occurred that led to the writing of her most famous hymn.There being no place in her crowded home where she might find opportunity for a few moments of quiet prayer and meditation, she would steal away at twilight to the edge of a neighboring estate, where there was a magnificent home surrounded by a beautiful garden.“As there was seldom any one passing that way after dark,” she afterwards wrote, “I felt quite retired and alone with God. I often walked quite up to that beautiful garden ... and felt that I could have the privilege of those few moments of uninterrupted communion with God without encroaching upon any one.”But her movements had been watched, and one day the lady of the mansion turned on her in the presence of others and rudely demanded: “Mrs. Brown, why do you come up at evening so near our house, and then go back without coming in? If you want anything, why don’t you come in and ask for it?”Mrs. Brown tells how she went home, crushed in spirit. “After my children were all in bed, except my baby,” she continues, “I sat down in the kitchen, with my child in my arms, when the grief of my heart burst forth in a flood of tears. I took pen and paper, and gave vent to my oppressed heart in what I called ‘My Apology for my Twilight Rambles, addressed to a Lady.’” The “Apology,” which was sent to the woman who had so cruelly wounded her began with the lines:Yes, when the toilsome day is gone,And night, with banners gray,Steals silently the glade alongIn twilight’s soft array.Then continued the beautiful verses of her now famous “Twilight Hymn:”I love to steal awhile awayFrom little ones and care,And spend the hours of setting dayIn gratitude and prayer.Seven years later, when Dr. Nettleton was preparing his volume of “Village Hymns,” he was told that Mrs. Brown had written some verses. At his request she brought forth her “Twilight Hymn” and three other lyrics, and they were promptly given a place in the collection. Only a few slight changes were made in the lines of the “Twilight Hymn,” including the second line, which was made to read “From every cumbering care,” and the fourth line, which was changed to “In humble, grateful prayer.” Four stanzas were omitted, otherwise the hymn remains almost exactly in the form of the “Apology.”One of the omitted stanzas reveals a beautiful Christian attitude toward death. Mrs. Brown wrote:I love to meditate on death!When shall his message comeWith friendly smiles to steal my breathAnd take an exile home?One of the other hymns by Mrs. Brown included in “Village Hymns” is a missionary lyric, “Go, messenger of love, and bear.” This was written a year earlier than her “Twilight Hymn.” Her little son Samuel was seven years old at the time, and the pious mother’s prayer was that he might be used of the Lord in His service. It was the period when the English-speaking world was experiencing a tremendous revival of interest in foreign missions, and in herheart she cherished the fond hope that her own boy might become a messenger of the gospel. Then came the inspiration for the hymn:Go, messenger of love, and bearUpon thy gentle wingThe song which seraphs love to hear,The angels joy to sing.Go to the heart with sin oppressed,And dry the sorrowing tear;Extract the thorn that wounds the breast,The drooping spirit cheer.Go, say to Zion, “Jesus reigns”—By His resistless powerHe binds His enemies with chains;They fall to rise no more.Tell how the Holy Spirit flies,As He from heaven descends;Arrests His proudest enemies,And changes them to friends.Her prayer was answered. The son, Samuel R. Brown in 1838 sailed as a missionary to China, and eleven years later, when Japan was opened to foreigners, he was transferred to that field. He was the first American missionary to the Japanese.Mrs. Brown died at Henry, Illinois, October 10, 1861. She was buried at Monson, Mass., where some thirty years of her life had been spent. Her son, the missionary, has written this beautiful tribute to her memory:“Her record is on high, and she is with the Lord, whom she loved and served as faithfully as any person I ever knew;nay, more than any other. To her I owe all I am; and if I have done any good in the world, to her, under God, it is due. She seems even now to have me in her hands, holding me up to work for Christ and His cause with a grasp that I can feel. I ought to have been and to be a far better man than I am, having had such a mother.”
Less than twenty years after Timothy Dwight’s hymns were published, a very poor and unpretentious American woman began to write lyrics that have been treasured by the Church until this present day, nor will they soon be forgotten. Her name was Phoebe Hinsdale Brown, and the story of her life is the most pathetic in the annals of American hymnody.
“As to my history,” she wrote near the end of her life, “it is soon told; a sinner saved by grace and sanctified by trials.”
She was born at Canaan, N. Y., May 1, 1783. Both parents died before she was two years old and the greater part of her childhood was spent in the home of an older sister who was married to a keeper of a county jail. The cruelties and privations suffered by the orphaned child during these years were such that her son in later years declared that it broke his heart to read of them in his mother’s diary. She was not permitted to attend school, and could neither read nor write. She was eighteen years old before she escaped from this bondage and found opportunity to attend school for three months. This was the extent of her education within school walls.
In 1805, at the age of twenty-two, she married Timothy H. Brown, a house painter. He was a good man, but extremely poor. Moving to Ellington, Mass., they lived in a small, unfinished frame house at the edge of the village. Four little children and a sick sister who occupied the only finished room in the house added to the domestic burdens ofMrs. Brown. In the summer of 1818 a pathetic incident occurred that led to the writing of her most famous hymn.
There being no place in her crowded home where she might find opportunity for a few moments of quiet prayer and meditation, she would steal away at twilight to the edge of a neighboring estate, where there was a magnificent home surrounded by a beautiful garden.
“As there was seldom any one passing that way after dark,” she afterwards wrote, “I felt quite retired and alone with God. I often walked quite up to that beautiful garden ... and felt that I could have the privilege of those few moments of uninterrupted communion with God without encroaching upon any one.”
But her movements had been watched, and one day the lady of the mansion turned on her in the presence of others and rudely demanded: “Mrs. Brown, why do you come up at evening so near our house, and then go back without coming in? If you want anything, why don’t you come in and ask for it?”
Mrs. Brown tells how she went home, crushed in spirit. “After my children were all in bed, except my baby,” she continues, “I sat down in the kitchen, with my child in my arms, when the grief of my heart burst forth in a flood of tears. I took pen and paper, and gave vent to my oppressed heart in what I called ‘My Apology for my Twilight Rambles, addressed to a Lady.’” The “Apology,” which was sent to the woman who had so cruelly wounded her began with the lines:
Yes, when the toilsome day is gone,And night, with banners gray,Steals silently the glade alongIn twilight’s soft array.
Yes, when the toilsome day is gone,And night, with banners gray,Steals silently the glade alongIn twilight’s soft array.
Yes, when the toilsome day is gone,
And night, with banners gray,
Steals silently the glade along
In twilight’s soft array.
Then continued the beautiful verses of her now famous “Twilight Hymn:”
I love to steal awhile awayFrom little ones and care,And spend the hours of setting dayIn gratitude and prayer.
I love to steal awhile awayFrom little ones and care,And spend the hours of setting dayIn gratitude and prayer.
I love to steal awhile away
From little ones and care,
And spend the hours of setting day
In gratitude and prayer.
Seven years later, when Dr. Nettleton was preparing his volume of “Village Hymns,” he was told that Mrs. Brown had written some verses. At his request she brought forth her “Twilight Hymn” and three other lyrics, and they were promptly given a place in the collection. Only a few slight changes were made in the lines of the “Twilight Hymn,” including the second line, which was made to read “From every cumbering care,” and the fourth line, which was changed to “In humble, grateful prayer.” Four stanzas were omitted, otherwise the hymn remains almost exactly in the form of the “Apology.”
One of the omitted stanzas reveals a beautiful Christian attitude toward death. Mrs. Brown wrote:
I love to meditate on death!When shall his message comeWith friendly smiles to steal my breathAnd take an exile home?
I love to meditate on death!When shall his message comeWith friendly smiles to steal my breathAnd take an exile home?
I love to meditate on death!
When shall his message come
With friendly smiles to steal my breath
And take an exile home?
One of the other hymns by Mrs. Brown included in “Village Hymns” is a missionary lyric, “Go, messenger of love, and bear.” This was written a year earlier than her “Twilight Hymn.” Her little son Samuel was seven years old at the time, and the pious mother’s prayer was that he might be used of the Lord in His service. It was the period when the English-speaking world was experiencing a tremendous revival of interest in foreign missions, and in herheart she cherished the fond hope that her own boy might become a messenger of the gospel. Then came the inspiration for the hymn:
Go, messenger of love, and bearUpon thy gentle wingThe song which seraphs love to hear,The angels joy to sing.Go to the heart with sin oppressed,And dry the sorrowing tear;Extract the thorn that wounds the breast,The drooping spirit cheer.Go, say to Zion, “Jesus reigns”—By His resistless powerHe binds His enemies with chains;They fall to rise no more.Tell how the Holy Spirit flies,As He from heaven descends;Arrests His proudest enemies,And changes them to friends.
Go, messenger of love, and bearUpon thy gentle wingThe song which seraphs love to hear,The angels joy to sing.
Go, messenger of love, and bear
Upon thy gentle wing
The song which seraphs love to hear,
The angels joy to sing.
Go to the heart with sin oppressed,And dry the sorrowing tear;Extract the thorn that wounds the breast,The drooping spirit cheer.
Go to the heart with sin oppressed,
And dry the sorrowing tear;
Extract the thorn that wounds the breast,
The drooping spirit cheer.
Go, say to Zion, “Jesus reigns”—By His resistless powerHe binds His enemies with chains;They fall to rise no more.
Go, say to Zion, “Jesus reigns”—
By His resistless power
He binds His enemies with chains;
They fall to rise no more.
Tell how the Holy Spirit flies,As He from heaven descends;Arrests His proudest enemies,And changes them to friends.
Tell how the Holy Spirit flies,
As He from heaven descends;
Arrests His proudest enemies,
And changes them to friends.
Her prayer was answered. The son, Samuel R. Brown in 1838 sailed as a missionary to China, and eleven years later, when Japan was opened to foreigners, he was transferred to that field. He was the first American missionary to the Japanese.
Mrs. Brown died at Henry, Illinois, October 10, 1861. She was buried at Monson, Mass., where some thirty years of her life had been spent. Her son, the missionary, has written this beautiful tribute to her memory:
“Her record is on high, and she is with the Lord, whom she loved and served as faithfully as any person I ever knew;nay, more than any other. To her I owe all I am; and if I have done any good in the world, to her, under God, it is due. She seems even now to have me in her hands, holding me up to work for Christ and His cause with a grasp that I can feel. I ought to have been and to be a far better man than I am, having had such a mother.”
A Triumphant Missionary HymnHail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning!Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain!Hushed be the accents of sorrow and mourning,Zion in triumph begins her glad reign.Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning,Long by the prophets of Israel foretold!Hail to the millions from bondage returning!Gentiles and Jews the blest vision behold.Lo, in the desert rich flowers are springing,Streams ever copious are gliding along;Loud from the mountain-tops echoes are ringing,Wastes rise in verdure, and mingle in song.Hark, from all lands, from the isles of the ocean,Praise to Jehovah ascending on high;Fallen the engines of war and commotion,Shouts of salvation are rending the sky.Thomas Hastings.
Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning!Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain!Hushed be the accents of sorrow and mourning,Zion in triumph begins her glad reign.
Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning!
Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain!
Hushed be the accents of sorrow and mourning,
Zion in triumph begins her glad reign.
Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning,Long by the prophets of Israel foretold!Hail to the millions from bondage returning!Gentiles and Jews the blest vision behold.
Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning,
Long by the prophets of Israel foretold!
Hail to the millions from bondage returning!
Gentiles and Jews the blest vision behold.
Lo, in the desert rich flowers are springing,Streams ever copious are gliding along;Loud from the mountain-tops echoes are ringing,Wastes rise in verdure, and mingle in song.
Lo, in the desert rich flowers are springing,
Streams ever copious are gliding along;
Loud from the mountain-tops echoes are ringing,
Wastes rise in verdure, and mingle in song.
Hark, from all lands, from the isles of the ocean,Praise to Jehovah ascending on high;Fallen the engines of war and commotion,Shouts of salvation are rending the sky.
Hark, from all lands, from the isles of the ocean,
Praise to Jehovah ascending on high;
Fallen the engines of war and commotion,
Shouts of salvation are rending the sky.
Thomas Hastings.
THOMAS HASTINGS, POET AND MUSICIANHigh among the names of those who in the early days of America labored to raise the standard of hymnody must be inscribed the name of Thomas Hastings, Doctor of Music. Poet and musician by nature, Hastings may truly be said to have devoted his entire life to the elevation of sacred song.The story of his life is typical of the struggles and hardships of many American pioneers who conquered in spite of the most adverse circumstances. Born at Washington, Conn., October 15, 1784, young Hastings removed with his parents to Clinton, N. Y., when he was only twelve years old. The journey was made in ox-sleds through unbroken wilderness in the dead of winter.The frontier schools of those days offered little opportunity for education, but the eager lad trudged six miles a day to receive the instruction that was given. A passionate fondness for music was first satisfied when he secured a musical primer of four pages costing six pence. The proudest moment in his life came when he was named leader of the village choir.It was not until he was thirty-two years old that Hastings was able to secure employment as a music teacher, but from that time until his death, in 1872, he devoted all his energies to the work he loved.Hastings was ever tireless in contending that good music should have a recognized place in religious worship. From1823 to 1832, during which time he edited the Western Recorder, in Utica, N. Y., he had an excellent opportunity to spread his views on music. In the latter year twelve churches in New York City jointly engaged his services as choir director, and for the remainder of his life Hastings made the great American metropolis his home.Though seriously handicapped by eye trouble, Hastings produced a prodigious amount of work. It is claimed that he wrote more than one thousand hymn tunes. He also published fifty volumes of church music. Some of the finest tunes in our American hymnals were composed by him. Who has not found inspiration in singing that sweet and haunting melody known as “Ortonville”? And how can we ever be sufficiently grateful for the tune called “Toplady,” which has endeared “Rock of Ages” to millions of hearts? Besides these there are at least a score of other beautiful hymn tunes that have been loved by the singing Church for nearly a century, any one of which would have won for the composer an enduring name.Through the composing of tunes, Hastings was led to write words for hymns. More than six hundred are attributed to him, although many were written anonymously. “Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning” is generally regarded as his best hymn. It strikingly reflects the spirit of the missionary age in which Hastings lived.Another very popular and stirring missionary hymn, written by Hastings in 1831, is a song of two stanzas:Now be the gospel bannerIn every land unfurled;And be the shout, Hosannah!Reechoed through the world;Till every isle and nation,Till every tribe and tongue,Receive the great salvation,And join the happy throng.Yes, Thou shalt reign forever,O Jesus, King of kings!Thy light, Thy love, Thy favor,Each ransomed captive sings:The isles for Thee are waiting,The deserts learn Thy praise,The hills and valleys, greeting,The songs responsive raise.A hymn with the title, “Pilgrimage of Life,” though very simple, is singularly beautiful and very tender in its appeal. The first stanza reads:Gently, Lord, O gently lead us,Pilgrims in this vale of tears,Through the trials yet decreed us,Till our last great change appears.Hastings did not cease writing and composing hymns until three days before his death. It is said that more of his hymns are found in the standard church hymnals of America than those of any other American writer. Their survival through almost a century is a testimony to their enduring quality.
High among the names of those who in the early days of America labored to raise the standard of hymnody must be inscribed the name of Thomas Hastings, Doctor of Music. Poet and musician by nature, Hastings may truly be said to have devoted his entire life to the elevation of sacred song.
The story of his life is typical of the struggles and hardships of many American pioneers who conquered in spite of the most adverse circumstances. Born at Washington, Conn., October 15, 1784, young Hastings removed with his parents to Clinton, N. Y., when he was only twelve years old. The journey was made in ox-sleds through unbroken wilderness in the dead of winter.
The frontier schools of those days offered little opportunity for education, but the eager lad trudged six miles a day to receive the instruction that was given. A passionate fondness for music was first satisfied when he secured a musical primer of four pages costing six pence. The proudest moment in his life came when he was named leader of the village choir.
It was not until he was thirty-two years old that Hastings was able to secure employment as a music teacher, but from that time until his death, in 1872, he devoted all his energies to the work he loved.
Hastings was ever tireless in contending that good music should have a recognized place in religious worship. From1823 to 1832, during which time he edited the Western Recorder, in Utica, N. Y., he had an excellent opportunity to spread his views on music. In the latter year twelve churches in New York City jointly engaged his services as choir director, and for the remainder of his life Hastings made the great American metropolis his home.
Though seriously handicapped by eye trouble, Hastings produced a prodigious amount of work. It is claimed that he wrote more than one thousand hymn tunes. He also published fifty volumes of church music. Some of the finest tunes in our American hymnals were composed by him. Who has not found inspiration in singing that sweet and haunting melody known as “Ortonville”? And how can we ever be sufficiently grateful for the tune called “Toplady,” which has endeared “Rock of Ages” to millions of hearts? Besides these there are at least a score of other beautiful hymn tunes that have been loved by the singing Church for nearly a century, any one of which would have won for the composer an enduring name.
Through the composing of tunes, Hastings was led to write words for hymns. More than six hundred are attributed to him, although many were written anonymously. “Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning” is generally regarded as his best hymn. It strikingly reflects the spirit of the missionary age in which Hastings lived.
Another very popular and stirring missionary hymn, written by Hastings in 1831, is a song of two stanzas:
Now be the gospel bannerIn every land unfurled;And be the shout, Hosannah!Reechoed through the world;Till every isle and nation,Till every tribe and tongue,Receive the great salvation,And join the happy throng.Yes, Thou shalt reign forever,O Jesus, King of kings!Thy light, Thy love, Thy favor,Each ransomed captive sings:The isles for Thee are waiting,The deserts learn Thy praise,The hills and valleys, greeting,The songs responsive raise.
Now be the gospel bannerIn every land unfurled;And be the shout, Hosannah!Reechoed through the world;Till every isle and nation,Till every tribe and tongue,Receive the great salvation,And join the happy throng.
Now be the gospel banner
In every land unfurled;
And be the shout, Hosannah!
Reechoed through the world;
Till every isle and nation,
Till every tribe and tongue,
Receive the great salvation,
And join the happy throng.
Yes, Thou shalt reign forever,O Jesus, King of kings!Thy light, Thy love, Thy favor,Each ransomed captive sings:The isles for Thee are waiting,The deserts learn Thy praise,The hills and valleys, greeting,The songs responsive raise.
Yes, Thou shalt reign forever,
O Jesus, King of kings!
Thy light, Thy love, Thy favor,
Each ransomed captive sings:
The isles for Thee are waiting,
The deserts learn Thy praise,
The hills and valleys, greeting,
The songs responsive raise.
A hymn with the title, “Pilgrimage of Life,” though very simple, is singularly beautiful and very tender in its appeal. The first stanza reads:
Gently, Lord, O gently lead us,Pilgrims in this vale of tears,Through the trials yet decreed us,Till our last great change appears.
Gently, Lord, O gently lead us,Pilgrims in this vale of tears,Through the trials yet decreed us,Till our last great change appears.
Gently, Lord, O gently lead us,
Pilgrims in this vale of tears,
Through the trials yet decreed us,
Till our last great change appears.
Hastings did not cease writing and composing hymns until three days before his death. It is said that more of his hymns are found in the standard church hymnals of America than those of any other American writer. Their survival through almost a century is a testimony to their enduring quality.
Key’s Hymn of PraiseLord, with glowing heart I’d praise theeFor the bliss Thy love bestows,For the pardoning grace that saves me,And the peace that from it flows.Help, O God, my weak endeavor;This dull soul to rapture raise;Thou must light the flame, or neverCan my love be warmed to praise.Praise, my soul, the God that sought thee,Wretched wanderer, far astray;Found thee lost, and kindly brought theeFrom the paths of death away;Praise, with love’s devoutest feeling,Him who saw thy guilt-born fear,And, the light of hope revealing,Bade the blood-stained cross appear.Lord, this bosom’s ardent feelingVainly would my lips express;Low before Thy footstool kneeling,Deign Thy suppliant’s prayer to bless;Let Thy grace, my soul’s chief treasure,Love’s pure flame within me raise;And, since words can never measure,Let my life show forth Thy praise.Francis Scott Key, 1823.
Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise theeFor the bliss Thy love bestows,For the pardoning grace that saves me,And the peace that from it flows.Help, O God, my weak endeavor;This dull soul to rapture raise;Thou must light the flame, or neverCan my love be warmed to praise.
Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise thee
For the bliss Thy love bestows,
For the pardoning grace that saves me,
And the peace that from it flows.
Help, O God, my weak endeavor;
This dull soul to rapture raise;
Thou must light the flame, or never
Can my love be warmed to praise.
Praise, my soul, the God that sought thee,Wretched wanderer, far astray;Found thee lost, and kindly brought theeFrom the paths of death away;Praise, with love’s devoutest feeling,Him who saw thy guilt-born fear,And, the light of hope revealing,Bade the blood-stained cross appear.
Praise, my soul, the God that sought thee,
Wretched wanderer, far astray;
Found thee lost, and kindly brought thee
From the paths of death away;
Praise, with love’s devoutest feeling,
Him who saw thy guilt-born fear,
And, the light of hope revealing,
Bade the blood-stained cross appear.
Lord, this bosom’s ardent feelingVainly would my lips express;Low before Thy footstool kneeling,Deign Thy suppliant’s prayer to bless;Let Thy grace, my soul’s chief treasure,Love’s pure flame within me raise;And, since words can never measure,Let my life show forth Thy praise.
Lord, this bosom’s ardent feeling
Vainly would my lips express;
Low before Thy footstool kneeling,
Deign Thy suppliant’s prayer to bless;
Let Thy grace, my soul’s chief treasure,
Love’s pure flame within me raise;
And, since words can never measure,
Let my life show forth Thy praise.
Francis Scott Key, 1823.
FRANCIS SCOTT KEY, PATRIOT AND HYMNISTFrancis Scott Key is known to every American child as the author of our national anthem, “The star spangled banner”; but his fame as a Christian hymnist has not gone abroad to the same degree. And yet, as the author of “Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise Thee,” he ranks among the foremost of American hymn-writers.Key lived during the stirring days of our country’s early history. His father was an officer in the Continental army who fought with distinction during the Revolutionary War. Francis was born at Frederick, Maryland, August 1, 1779. After receiving a legal education he began to practice law in Washington, and served as United States district attorney for three terms, holding that office at the time of his death.The story of how he came to write “Star spangled banner” scarcely needs to be repeated. It was during the War of 1812 that Key was authorized by President Madison to visit the British fleet near the mouth of the Potomac in order to obtain the release of a friend who had been captured.The British admiral granted Key’s request, but owing to the fact that an attack was about to be made on Fort McHenry, which guarded the harbor of Baltimore, Key and his party were detained all night aboard the truce-boat on which they had come.It was a night of great anxiety. A fierce bombardmentcontinued during the hours of darkness, and as long as the shore fortifications replied to the cannonading, Key and his friends were certain that all was well. Toward morning, the firing ceased, and they were filled with dark forebodings. The others went below to obtain some sleep, but Key continued to pace the deck until the first streaks of dawn showed that the “flag was still there.”His joy was so unbounded that he seized a piece of paper, and hastily wrote the words of his famous anthem. It was not completed until later in the day, when he reached Baltimore and joined in the victorious joy that filled the city.While “Star spangled banner” is not a Christian hymn, there are noble sentiments in it that reveal the writer at once as a devout Christian, and this was eminently true of Key.As a member of the Protestant Episcopal Church he held a lay reader’s license, and for many years read the service and visited the sick. He also conducted a Bible class in Sunday school. Although he lived in a slave state, he was finally moved by conscientious scruples to free his slaves. He also did much to alleviate conditions among other unfortunate blacks.When the Protestant Episcopal Church in 1823 appointed a committee to prepare a new hymn-book for that body, Key was made a lay member of it. Another member of the committee was Dr. William Muhlenberg, who in that same year had published a little hymnal for use in his own congregation. It was in this hymnal, known as “Church Poetry”, that Key’s beautiful hymn, “Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise Thee,” was first published.In Dr. Muhlenberg’s hymn-book the hymn had onlythree stanzas, and that is the form in which it has since appeared in all other hymnals. In 1900, however, Key’s autograph copy of the hymn was discovered, and it was found that the hymn originally had four stanzas. The missing one reads:Praise thy Saviour God that drew theeTo that cross, new life to give,Held a blood-sealed pardon to thee,Bade thee look to Him and live.Praise the grace whose threats alarmed thee,Roused thee from thy fatal ease,Praise the grace whose promise warmed thee,Praise the grace that whispered peace.Another excellent hymn, “Before the Lord we bow”, was written by Key in 1832 for a Fourth of July celebration.A bronze statue of Key, placed over his grave at Frederick, Md., shows him with his hand outstretched, as at the moment when he discovered the flag “still there,” while his other hand is waving his hat exultantly.
Francis Scott Key is known to every American child as the author of our national anthem, “The star spangled banner”; but his fame as a Christian hymnist has not gone abroad to the same degree. And yet, as the author of “Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise Thee,” he ranks among the foremost of American hymn-writers.
Key lived during the stirring days of our country’s early history. His father was an officer in the Continental army who fought with distinction during the Revolutionary War. Francis was born at Frederick, Maryland, August 1, 1779. After receiving a legal education he began to practice law in Washington, and served as United States district attorney for three terms, holding that office at the time of his death.
The story of how he came to write “Star spangled banner” scarcely needs to be repeated. It was during the War of 1812 that Key was authorized by President Madison to visit the British fleet near the mouth of the Potomac in order to obtain the release of a friend who had been captured.
The British admiral granted Key’s request, but owing to the fact that an attack was about to be made on Fort McHenry, which guarded the harbor of Baltimore, Key and his party were detained all night aboard the truce-boat on which they had come.
It was a night of great anxiety. A fierce bombardmentcontinued during the hours of darkness, and as long as the shore fortifications replied to the cannonading, Key and his friends were certain that all was well. Toward morning, the firing ceased, and they were filled with dark forebodings. The others went below to obtain some sleep, but Key continued to pace the deck until the first streaks of dawn showed that the “flag was still there.”
His joy was so unbounded that he seized a piece of paper, and hastily wrote the words of his famous anthem. It was not completed until later in the day, when he reached Baltimore and joined in the victorious joy that filled the city.
While “Star spangled banner” is not a Christian hymn, there are noble sentiments in it that reveal the writer at once as a devout Christian, and this was eminently true of Key.
As a member of the Protestant Episcopal Church he held a lay reader’s license, and for many years read the service and visited the sick. He also conducted a Bible class in Sunday school. Although he lived in a slave state, he was finally moved by conscientious scruples to free his slaves. He also did much to alleviate conditions among other unfortunate blacks.
When the Protestant Episcopal Church in 1823 appointed a committee to prepare a new hymn-book for that body, Key was made a lay member of it. Another member of the committee was Dr. William Muhlenberg, who in that same year had published a little hymnal for use in his own congregation. It was in this hymnal, known as “Church Poetry”, that Key’s beautiful hymn, “Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise Thee,” was first published.
In Dr. Muhlenberg’s hymn-book the hymn had onlythree stanzas, and that is the form in which it has since appeared in all other hymnals. In 1900, however, Key’s autograph copy of the hymn was discovered, and it was found that the hymn originally had four stanzas. The missing one reads:
Praise thy Saviour God that drew theeTo that cross, new life to give,Held a blood-sealed pardon to thee,Bade thee look to Him and live.Praise the grace whose threats alarmed thee,Roused thee from thy fatal ease,Praise the grace whose promise warmed thee,Praise the grace that whispered peace.
Praise thy Saviour God that drew theeTo that cross, new life to give,Held a blood-sealed pardon to thee,Bade thee look to Him and live.Praise the grace whose threats alarmed thee,Roused thee from thy fatal ease,Praise the grace whose promise warmed thee,Praise the grace that whispered peace.
Praise thy Saviour God that drew thee
To that cross, new life to give,
Held a blood-sealed pardon to thee,
Bade thee look to Him and live.
Praise the grace whose threats alarmed thee,
Roused thee from thy fatal ease,
Praise the grace whose promise warmed thee,
Praise the grace that whispered peace.
Another excellent hymn, “Before the Lord we bow”, was written by Key in 1832 for a Fourth of July celebration.
A bronze statue of Key, placed over his grave at Frederick, Md., shows him with his hand outstretched, as at the moment when he discovered the flag “still there,” while his other hand is waving his hat exultantly.
Bryant’s Home Mission HymnLook from Thy sphere of endless day,O God of mercy and of might!In pity look on those who strayBenighted, in this land of light.In peopled vale, in lonely glen,In crowded mart, by stream or sea,How many of the sons of menHear not the message sent from Thee!Send forth Thy heralds, Lord, to callThe thoughtless young, the hardened old,A scattered, homeless flock, till allBe gathered to Thy peaceful fold.Send them Thy mighty Word to speak,Till faith shall dawn, and doubt depart,To awe the bold, to stay the weak,And bind and heal the broken heart.Then all these wastes, a dreary sceneThat makes us sadden, as we gaze,Shall grow with living waters green,And lift to heaven the voice of praise.William Cullen Bryant, 1840.
Look from Thy sphere of endless day,O God of mercy and of might!In pity look on those who strayBenighted, in this land of light.
Look from Thy sphere of endless day,
O God of mercy and of might!
In pity look on those who stray
Benighted, in this land of light.
In peopled vale, in lonely glen,In crowded mart, by stream or sea,How many of the sons of menHear not the message sent from Thee!
In peopled vale, in lonely glen,
In crowded mart, by stream or sea,
How many of the sons of men
Hear not the message sent from Thee!
Send forth Thy heralds, Lord, to callThe thoughtless young, the hardened old,A scattered, homeless flock, till allBe gathered to Thy peaceful fold.
Send forth Thy heralds, Lord, to call
The thoughtless young, the hardened old,
A scattered, homeless flock, till all
Be gathered to Thy peaceful fold.
Send them Thy mighty Word to speak,Till faith shall dawn, and doubt depart,To awe the bold, to stay the weak,And bind and heal the broken heart.
Send them Thy mighty Word to speak,
Till faith shall dawn, and doubt depart,
To awe the bold, to stay the weak,
And bind and heal the broken heart.
Then all these wastes, a dreary sceneThat makes us sadden, as we gaze,Shall grow with living waters green,And lift to heaven the voice of praise.
Then all these wastes, a dreary scene
That makes us sadden, as we gaze,
Shall grow with living waters green,
And lift to heaven the voice of praise.
William Cullen Bryant, 1840.
AMERICA’S FIRST POET AND HIS HYMNSWilliam Cullen Bryant, America’s first great poet, was also a hymn-writer. Although he did not devote much of his thought and genius to sacred lyrics, he wrote at least two splendid hymns that merit a place in every hymn collection. The one, “Thou, whose unmeasured temple stands,” is a church dedication hymn of rare beauty; the other, “Look from Thy sphere of endless day,” is unquestionably one of the finest home mission hymns ever written.Born at Cummington, Mass., November 3, 1794, he was educated at Williams College to be a lawyer. It was his writing of “Thanatopsis” as a boy of seventeen years that gave the first notice to the world that America had produced a great poet.It is said that when the lines of “Thanatopsis” were submitted to Richard H. Dana, editor of the “North American Review,” he was skeptical.“No one on this side of the Atlantic,” he declared, “is capable of writing such verses.”Bryant was brought up in a typical New England Puritan home. Family worship and strict attendance at public worship was the rule in the Bryant household. Every little while the children of the community would also gather in the district schoolhouse, where they would be examined in the Catechism by the parish minister, a venerable man who was loved by old and young alike.While yet a little child Bryant began to pray that hemight receive the gift of writing poetry. No doubt he had been influenced to a large degree in this desire by the fact that his father was a lover of verse and possessed a splendid library of the great English poets. The youthful Bryant was taught to memorize the noble hymns of Isaac Watts, and when he was only five years old he would stand on a chair and recite them to imaginary audiences.Early in life Bryant came under the influence of the Unitarian doctrines which were then sweeping through New England as a reaction against the stern, harsh teachings of Puritanism. When he was only twenty-six years old he was invited to contribute to a volume of hymns then in course of preparation by the Unitarians. He responded by writing five hymns. Six years later he wrote “Thou, whose unmeasured temple stands” for the dedication of the Second Unitarian Church of New York City. He usually attended the First Congregational Unitarian Church of that city.About thirty years later, however, when Bryant was sixty-four years old, a profound change occurred in his religious convictions. During a trip abroad his wife became critically ill in Naples. At first her life was despaired of, but when she finally was on the road to recovery Bryant sent for a warm friend of the family, Rev. R. C. Waterston, who was in Naples at the time. The latter tells of his meeting with the aged poet in the following words:“On the following day, the weather being delightful, we walked in the royal park or garden overlooking the Bay of Naples. Never can I forget the beautiful spirit that breathed through every word he (Bryant) uttered, the reverent love, the confiding trust, the aspiring hope, the rooted faith.... He said that he had never united himself with the Church, which, with his present feeling, he would mostgladly do. He then asked if it would be agreeable to me to come to his room on the morrow and administer the communion, adding that, as he had never been baptized, he desired that ordinance at the same time.“The day following was the Sabbath, and a most heavenly day. In fulfilment of his wishes, in his own quiet room, a company of seven persons celebrated together the Lord’s Supper.... Previous to the breaking of bread, William Cullen Bryant was baptized. With snow-white head and flowing beard, he stood like one of the ancient prophets, and perhaps never, since the days of the apostles, has a truer disciple professed allegiance to the divine Master.”Twenty years after this experience, in the last year of the poet’s life, he made some contributions to the Methodist Episcopal hymnal. A revision of one of the hymns which he had written in 1820 for the Unitarian hymnal reveals his changed attitude toward the Lord Jesus Christ. For the Unitarian book he had written:Deem not that they are blest aloneWhose days a peaceful tenor keep;The God who loves our race has shownA blessing for the eyes that weep.For the Methodist hymn-book he changed the third line to read:The anointed Son of God makes known.The hymn was sung in its changed form at the poet’s funeral, as well as another beautiful hymn entitled “The Star of Bethlehem,” written in 1875 for the semi-centennial of the Church of the Messiah in Boston.
William Cullen Bryant, America’s first great poet, was also a hymn-writer. Although he did not devote much of his thought and genius to sacred lyrics, he wrote at least two splendid hymns that merit a place in every hymn collection. The one, “Thou, whose unmeasured temple stands,” is a church dedication hymn of rare beauty; the other, “Look from Thy sphere of endless day,” is unquestionably one of the finest home mission hymns ever written.
Born at Cummington, Mass., November 3, 1794, he was educated at Williams College to be a lawyer. It was his writing of “Thanatopsis” as a boy of seventeen years that gave the first notice to the world that America had produced a great poet.
It is said that when the lines of “Thanatopsis” were submitted to Richard H. Dana, editor of the “North American Review,” he was skeptical.
“No one on this side of the Atlantic,” he declared, “is capable of writing such verses.”
Bryant was brought up in a typical New England Puritan home. Family worship and strict attendance at public worship was the rule in the Bryant household. Every little while the children of the community would also gather in the district schoolhouse, where they would be examined in the Catechism by the parish minister, a venerable man who was loved by old and young alike.
While yet a little child Bryant began to pray that hemight receive the gift of writing poetry. No doubt he had been influenced to a large degree in this desire by the fact that his father was a lover of verse and possessed a splendid library of the great English poets. The youthful Bryant was taught to memorize the noble hymns of Isaac Watts, and when he was only five years old he would stand on a chair and recite them to imaginary audiences.
Early in life Bryant came under the influence of the Unitarian doctrines which were then sweeping through New England as a reaction against the stern, harsh teachings of Puritanism. When he was only twenty-six years old he was invited to contribute to a volume of hymns then in course of preparation by the Unitarians. He responded by writing five hymns. Six years later he wrote “Thou, whose unmeasured temple stands” for the dedication of the Second Unitarian Church of New York City. He usually attended the First Congregational Unitarian Church of that city.
About thirty years later, however, when Bryant was sixty-four years old, a profound change occurred in his religious convictions. During a trip abroad his wife became critically ill in Naples. At first her life was despaired of, but when she finally was on the road to recovery Bryant sent for a warm friend of the family, Rev. R. C. Waterston, who was in Naples at the time. The latter tells of his meeting with the aged poet in the following words:
“On the following day, the weather being delightful, we walked in the royal park or garden overlooking the Bay of Naples. Never can I forget the beautiful spirit that breathed through every word he (Bryant) uttered, the reverent love, the confiding trust, the aspiring hope, the rooted faith.... He said that he had never united himself with the Church, which, with his present feeling, he would mostgladly do. He then asked if it would be agreeable to me to come to his room on the morrow and administer the communion, adding that, as he had never been baptized, he desired that ordinance at the same time.
“The day following was the Sabbath, and a most heavenly day. In fulfilment of his wishes, in his own quiet room, a company of seven persons celebrated together the Lord’s Supper.... Previous to the breaking of bread, William Cullen Bryant was baptized. With snow-white head and flowing beard, he stood like one of the ancient prophets, and perhaps never, since the days of the apostles, has a truer disciple professed allegiance to the divine Master.”
Twenty years after this experience, in the last year of the poet’s life, he made some contributions to the Methodist Episcopal hymnal. A revision of one of the hymns which he had written in 1820 for the Unitarian hymnal reveals his changed attitude toward the Lord Jesus Christ. For the Unitarian book he had written:
Deem not that they are blest aloneWhose days a peaceful tenor keep;The God who loves our race has shownA blessing for the eyes that weep.
Deem not that they are blest aloneWhose days a peaceful tenor keep;The God who loves our race has shownA blessing for the eyes that weep.
Deem not that they are blest alone
Whose days a peaceful tenor keep;
The God who loves our race has shown
A blessing for the eyes that weep.
For the Methodist hymn-book he changed the third line to read:
The anointed Son of God makes known.
The anointed Son of God makes known.
The anointed Son of God makes known.
The hymn was sung in its changed form at the poet’s funeral, as well as another beautiful hymn entitled “The Star of Bethlehem,” written in 1875 for the semi-centennial of the Church of the Messiah in Boston.
An Exquisite Baptismal HymnSaviour, who Thy flock art feedingWith the shepherd’s kindest care,All the feeble gently leading,While the lambs Thy bosom share.Now, these little ones receiving,Fold them in Thy gracious arm;There, we know, Thy word believing,Only there secure from harm.Never, from Thy pasture roving,Let them be the lion’s prey;Let Thy tenderness, so loving,Keep them through life’s dangerous way.Then, within Thy fold eternal,Let them find a resting place,Feed in pastures ever vernal,Drink the rivers of Thy grace.William Augustus Muhlenberg, 1826.
Saviour, who Thy flock art feedingWith the shepherd’s kindest care,All the feeble gently leading,While the lambs Thy bosom share.Now, these little ones receiving,Fold them in Thy gracious arm;There, we know, Thy word believing,Only there secure from harm.
Saviour, who Thy flock art feeding
With the shepherd’s kindest care,
All the feeble gently leading,
While the lambs Thy bosom share.
Now, these little ones receiving,
Fold them in Thy gracious arm;
There, we know, Thy word believing,
Only there secure from harm.
Never, from Thy pasture roving,Let them be the lion’s prey;Let Thy tenderness, so loving,Keep them through life’s dangerous way.Then, within Thy fold eternal,Let them find a resting place,Feed in pastures ever vernal,Drink the rivers of Thy grace.
Never, from Thy pasture roving,
Let them be the lion’s prey;
Let Thy tenderness, so loving,
Keep them through life’s dangerous way.
Then, within Thy fold eternal,
Let them find a resting place,
Feed in pastures ever vernal,
Drink the rivers of Thy grace.
William Augustus Muhlenberg, 1826.
THE HYMN-WRITER OF THE MUHLENBERGSWilliam Augustus Muhlenberg, one of America’s early hymn-writers, came from a most distinguished family. His great grandfather, Henry Melchior Muhlenberg, was the “patriarch of the Lutheran Church in America,” having come to these shores from Germany in 1742, and being the founder in that year of the first permanent Lutheran organization in the new world.A son of the patriarch and grandfather of the hymn-writer bore the name of Frederick Augustus Muhlenberg. He, too, was a Lutheran minister, but during the stirring days of the Revolutionary period he entered into the political affairs of the struggling colonies. He was president of the convention which ratified the Constitution of the United States and also served as first speaker of the new House of Representatives. His brother, Rev. Peter Muhlenberg, was also a distinguished patriot. When the Revolution broke out, he was serving a congregation at Woodstock, Va. It was he who stood in the pulpit of his church and, throwing aside his clerical robe, stood revealed in the uniform of a Continental colonel.“There is a time to preach and a time to pray,” he cried, “but these times have passed away. There is a time to fight, and that time has now come!”Thereupon he called upon the men of his congregation to enlist in his regiment. Before the war ended he had risen to the rank of major general.William Augustus Muhlenberg, the hymn-writer, was born in Philadelphia in 1796. Since the German language was then being used exclusively in the German Lutheran churches, he and his little sister were allowed to attend Christ Episcopal Church. In this way William Augustus drifted away from the Church of his great forbears, and when he grew up he became a clergyman in the Episcopal communion.It is evident that Muhlenberg brought something of the spirit of the “singing church” into the church of his adoption, for in 1821 he issued a tract with the title, “A Plea for Christian Hymns.” It appears that the Episcopal Church at this time was using a prayer-book that included only fifty-seven hymns, and no one felt the poverty of his Church in this respect more keenly than did Muhlenberg.Two years later the General Convention of the Episcopal body voted to prepare a hymn-book, and Muhlenberg was made a member of the committee. One of his associates was Francis Scott Key, author of “Star spangled banner.”As a member of the committee Muhlenberg contributed four original hymns to the new collection. They were “I would not live alway,” “Like Noah’s weary dove,” “Shout the glad tidings, triumphantly sing,” and “Saviour, who Thy flock art leading.” The latter is a baptism hymn and is one of the most exquisite lyrics on that theme ever written. Although Muhlenberg never married, he had a very deep love for children. No service seemed so hallowed to him as the baptism of a little child. It is said that shortly after his ordination, when asked to officiate at such a rite, Muhlenberg flushed and hesitated, and then asked a bishop who was present to baptize the babe. The latter, however, insisted that the young clergyman should carry out the holy ordinance,and from that day there was no duty that afforded Muhlenberg more joy.Muhlenberg often expressed regret that he had written “I would not live alway.” It seems that the poem was called into being in 1824, following a “heart-breaking disappointment in the matter of love.” Muhlenberg was a young man at the time, and in his later years he sought to alter it in such a way that it would breathe more of the hopeful spirit of the New Testament. He contended that Paul’s words, “For me to live is Christ” were far better than Job’s lament, “I would not live alway.” However, the hymn as originally written had become so fixed in the consciousness of the Church, that all efforts of the author to revise it were in vain.Nearly all the hymns of Muhlenberg that have lived were written during his earlier years. His later ministry centered in New York City, where he was head of a boys’ school for a number of years, and later rector of the Church of the Holy Communion. He soon became an outstanding leader in the great metropolis. After having founded St. Luke’s hospital, the first church institution of its kind in New York City, he spent the last twenty years of his life as its superintendent.His death occurred when he was past eighty years. It is said that when the end was drawing near, the hospital chaplain came to his bedside to pray for his recovery.“Let us have an understanding about this,” said the dying Muhlenberg. “You are asking God to restore me and I am asking God to take me home. There must not be a contradiction in our prayers, for it is evident that He cannot answer them both.”
William Augustus Muhlenberg, one of America’s early hymn-writers, came from a most distinguished family. His great grandfather, Henry Melchior Muhlenberg, was the “patriarch of the Lutheran Church in America,” having come to these shores from Germany in 1742, and being the founder in that year of the first permanent Lutheran organization in the new world.
A son of the patriarch and grandfather of the hymn-writer bore the name of Frederick Augustus Muhlenberg. He, too, was a Lutheran minister, but during the stirring days of the Revolutionary period he entered into the political affairs of the struggling colonies. He was president of the convention which ratified the Constitution of the United States and also served as first speaker of the new House of Representatives. His brother, Rev. Peter Muhlenberg, was also a distinguished patriot. When the Revolution broke out, he was serving a congregation at Woodstock, Va. It was he who stood in the pulpit of his church and, throwing aside his clerical robe, stood revealed in the uniform of a Continental colonel.
“There is a time to preach and a time to pray,” he cried, “but these times have passed away. There is a time to fight, and that time has now come!”
Thereupon he called upon the men of his congregation to enlist in his regiment. Before the war ended he had risen to the rank of major general.
William Augustus Muhlenberg, the hymn-writer, was born in Philadelphia in 1796. Since the German language was then being used exclusively in the German Lutheran churches, he and his little sister were allowed to attend Christ Episcopal Church. In this way William Augustus drifted away from the Church of his great forbears, and when he grew up he became a clergyman in the Episcopal communion.
It is evident that Muhlenberg brought something of the spirit of the “singing church” into the church of his adoption, for in 1821 he issued a tract with the title, “A Plea for Christian Hymns.” It appears that the Episcopal Church at this time was using a prayer-book that included only fifty-seven hymns, and no one felt the poverty of his Church in this respect more keenly than did Muhlenberg.
Two years later the General Convention of the Episcopal body voted to prepare a hymn-book, and Muhlenberg was made a member of the committee. One of his associates was Francis Scott Key, author of “Star spangled banner.”
As a member of the committee Muhlenberg contributed four original hymns to the new collection. They were “I would not live alway,” “Like Noah’s weary dove,” “Shout the glad tidings, triumphantly sing,” and “Saviour, who Thy flock art leading.” The latter is a baptism hymn and is one of the most exquisite lyrics on that theme ever written. Although Muhlenberg never married, he had a very deep love for children. No service seemed so hallowed to him as the baptism of a little child. It is said that shortly after his ordination, when asked to officiate at such a rite, Muhlenberg flushed and hesitated, and then asked a bishop who was present to baptize the babe. The latter, however, insisted that the young clergyman should carry out the holy ordinance,and from that day there was no duty that afforded Muhlenberg more joy.
Muhlenberg often expressed regret that he had written “I would not live alway.” It seems that the poem was called into being in 1824, following a “heart-breaking disappointment in the matter of love.” Muhlenberg was a young man at the time, and in his later years he sought to alter it in such a way that it would breathe more of the hopeful spirit of the New Testament. He contended that Paul’s words, “For me to live is Christ” were far better than Job’s lament, “I would not live alway.” However, the hymn as originally written had become so fixed in the consciousness of the Church, that all efforts of the author to revise it were in vain.
Nearly all the hymns of Muhlenberg that have lived were written during his earlier years. His later ministry centered in New York City, where he was head of a boys’ school for a number of years, and later rector of the Church of the Holy Communion. He soon became an outstanding leader in the great metropolis. After having founded St. Luke’s hospital, the first church institution of its kind in New York City, he spent the last twenty years of his life as its superintendent.
His death occurred when he was past eighty years. It is said that when the end was drawing near, the hospital chaplain came to his bedside to pray for his recovery.
“Let us have an understanding about this,” said the dying Muhlenberg. “You are asking God to restore me and I am asking God to take me home. There must not be a contradiction in our prayers, for it is evident that He cannot answer them both.”
The Way, the Truth, and the LifeThou art the Way; to Thee aloneFrom sin and death we flee,And he who would the Father seek,Must seek Him, Lord, by Thee.Thou art the Truth; Thy Word aloneSound wisdom can impart;Thou only canst inform the mind,And purify the heart.Thou art the Life; the rending tombProclaims Thy conquering arm;And those who put their trust in TheeNor 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 winWhose joys eternal flow.George Washington Doane, 1824.
Thou art the Way; to Thee aloneFrom sin and death we flee,And he who would the Father seek,Must seek Him, Lord, by Thee.
Thou 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 aloneSound wisdom can impart;Thou only canst inform the mind,And purify the heart.
Thou art the Truth; Thy Word alone
Sound wisdom can impart;
Thou only canst inform the mind,
And purify the heart.
Thou art the Life; the rending tombProclaims Thy conquering arm;And those who put their trust in TheeNor death nor hell shall harm.
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 winWhose joys eternal flow.
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.
George Washington Doane, 1824.
THE LYRICS OF BISHOP DOANECritics will forever disagree on the subject of the relative merits of great hymns. Bishop George Washington Doane’s fine hymn, “Thou art the Way; to Thee alone,” has been declared by some to be the foremost of all hymns written by American authors. Dr. Breed, on the other hand, declares that it is “by no means the equal” of other hymns by Doane. Another authority observes that it “rather stiffly and mechanically paraphrases” the passage on which it is founded, while Edward S. Ninde rejects this conclusion by contending that although “metrical expositions of Scriptures are apt to be stilted and spiritless ... this one is a success.”Ninde, however, does not agree that it is “the first of American hymns,” reserving this honor, as do most critics, for Ray Palmer’s “My faith looks up to Thee.”Bishop Doane was born in Trenton, N. J., May 27, 1799. This was the year in which George Washington died. The future hymn-writer was named after the great patriot. At the age of nineteen he was graduated by Union College with the highest scholastic honors. After teaching for a season, he became pastor of Trinity Episcopal Church, Boston, Mass., the church afterwards made famous by Phillips Brooks.When only thirty-three years old he was elevated to the bishopric of New Jersey, which position he held until his death in 1859. By this time he had already won fame as a hymn-writer. It was in 1824, at the age of twenty-five, thatDoane published a little volume of lyrics entitled “Songs by the Way.” One of the hymns in this collection was the beautiful paraphrase, “Thou art the Way; to Thee alone.” This hymn alone would have been sufficient to have perpetuated the name of the young poet, but there was another gem in the same collection that will always be treasured by those who love Christian song. It is the exquisite evening hymn:Softly now the light of dayFades upon my sight away;Free from care, from labor free,Lord, I would commune with Thee.Among the many achievements of this versatile bishop was the founding of Saint Mary’s Hall, a school for young women, at Burlington, N. J. Doane lies buried in the neighboring churchyard, and it is said that the students on every Wednesday evening at chapel services sing “Softly now the light of day” as a memorial tribute to the founder of the institution.Both of these hymns were quickly recognized as possessing unusual merit, and almost immediately found their way into Christian hymn-books. Today there is scarcely a hymnal published in the English language that does not contain them.But Bishop Doane’s fame does not rest on these two hymns alone. He was destined to write a third one, equally great but of a very different character from the other two. It is the stirring missionary hymn:Fling out the banner! let it floatSkyward and seaward, high and wide;The sun that lights its shining folds,The cross, on which the Saviour died.It was written in 1848 in response to a request from the young women of St. Mary’s Hall for a hymn to be used at a flag-raising. The third stanza is one of rare beauty:Fling out the banner! heathen landsShall see from far the glorious sight,And nations, crowding to be born,Baptize their spirits in its light.The hymn, as may be surmised, is based on the passage from the Psaltery: “Thou hast given a banner to them that fear thee, that it may be displayed because of the truth.”Bishop Doane was a zealous advocate of missions. It was during his childhood that the modern missionary movement had its inception and swept like a tidal wave over the Christian world. “Fling out the banner” is a reflection of the remarkable enthusiasm that filled his own soul and that revealed itself in his aggressive missionary leadership. Indeed, he became known in his own Church as “the missionary bishop of America.”A son, William C. Doane, also became one of the most distinguished bishops of the Episcopal Church. Writing of his father’s rare gifts as a hymnist, he declares that his heart was “full of song. It oozed out in his conversation, in his sermons, in everything that he did. Sometimes in a steamboat, often when the back of a letter was his only paper, the sweetest things came.”
Critics will forever disagree on the subject of the relative merits of great hymns. Bishop George Washington Doane’s fine hymn, “Thou art the Way; to Thee alone,” has been declared by some to be the foremost of all hymns written by American authors. Dr. Breed, on the other hand, declares that it is “by no means the equal” of other hymns by Doane. Another authority observes that it “rather stiffly and mechanically paraphrases” the passage on which it is founded, while Edward S. Ninde rejects this conclusion by contending that although “metrical expositions of Scriptures are apt to be stilted and spiritless ... this one is a success.”
Ninde, however, does not agree that it is “the first of American hymns,” reserving this honor, as do most critics, for Ray Palmer’s “My faith looks up to Thee.”
Bishop Doane was born in Trenton, N. J., May 27, 1799. This was the year in which George Washington died. The future hymn-writer was named after the great patriot. At the age of nineteen he was graduated by Union College with the highest scholastic honors. After teaching for a season, he became pastor of Trinity Episcopal Church, Boston, Mass., the church afterwards made famous by Phillips Brooks.
When only thirty-three years old he was elevated to the bishopric of New Jersey, which position he held until his death in 1859. By this time he had already won fame as a hymn-writer. It was in 1824, at the age of twenty-five, thatDoane published a little volume of lyrics entitled “Songs by the Way.” One of the hymns in this collection was the beautiful paraphrase, “Thou art the Way; to Thee alone.” This hymn alone would have been sufficient to have perpetuated the name of the young poet, but there was another gem in the same collection that will always be treasured by those who love Christian song. It is the exquisite evening hymn:
Softly now the light of dayFades upon my sight away;Free from care, from labor free,Lord, I would commune with Thee.
Softly now the light of dayFades upon my sight away;Free from care, from labor free,Lord, I would commune with Thee.
Softly now the light of day
Fades upon my sight away;
Free from care, from labor free,
Lord, I would commune with Thee.
Among the many achievements of this versatile bishop was the founding of Saint Mary’s Hall, a school for young women, at Burlington, N. J. Doane lies buried in the neighboring churchyard, and it is said that the students on every Wednesday evening at chapel services sing “Softly now the light of day” as a memorial tribute to the founder of the institution.
Both of these hymns were quickly recognized as possessing unusual merit, and almost immediately found their way into Christian hymn-books. Today there is scarcely a hymnal published in the English language that does not contain them.
But Bishop Doane’s fame does not rest on these two hymns alone. He was destined to write a third one, equally great but of a very different character from the other two. It is the stirring missionary hymn:
Fling out the banner! let it floatSkyward and seaward, high and wide;The sun that lights its shining folds,The cross, on which the Saviour died.
Fling out the banner! let it floatSkyward and seaward, high and wide;The sun that lights its shining folds,The cross, on which the Saviour died.
Fling out the banner! let it float
Skyward and seaward, high and wide;
The sun that lights its shining folds,
The cross, on which the Saviour died.
It was written in 1848 in response to a request from the young women of St. Mary’s Hall for a hymn to be used at a flag-raising. The third stanza is one of rare beauty:
Fling out the banner! heathen landsShall see from far the glorious sight,And nations, crowding to be born,Baptize their spirits in its light.
Fling out the banner! heathen landsShall see from far the glorious sight,And nations, crowding to be born,Baptize their spirits in its light.
Fling out the banner! heathen lands
Shall see from far the glorious sight,
And nations, crowding to be born,
Baptize their spirits in its light.
The hymn, as may be surmised, is based on the passage from the Psaltery: “Thou hast given a banner to them that fear thee, that it may be displayed because of the truth.”
Bishop Doane was a zealous advocate of missions. It was during his childhood that the modern missionary movement had its inception and swept like a tidal wave over the Christian world. “Fling out the banner” is a reflection of the remarkable enthusiasm that filled his own soul and that revealed itself in his aggressive missionary leadership. Indeed, he became known in his own Church as “the missionary bishop of America.”
A son, William C. Doane, also became one of the most distinguished bishops of the Episcopal Church. Writing of his father’s rare gifts as a hymnist, he declares that his heart was “full of song. It oozed out in his conversation, in his sermons, in everything that he did. Sometimes in a steamboat, often when the back of a letter was his only paper, the sweetest things came.”