CHAPTER III.

How sweetly flowed the Gospel soundFrom lips of gentleness and graceWhen listening thousands gathered round,And joy and gladness filled the place,—and the more famous hymn indicated at the head of this sketch. Knowledge of all religions only qualified him to worship the Crucified with both faith and reason. Though nominally a Unitarian, to him, as to Channing and Martineau and Edmund Sears, Christ was “all we know of God.”* Exaggerated in some accounts toforty.Bowring died Nov. 23, 1872. But his hymn to the Cross will never die:In the cross of Christ I glory,Towering o'er the wrecks of time;All the light of sacred storyGathers round its head sublime.When the woes of life o'ertake meHopes deceive, and fears annoy,Never shall the cross forsake me;Lo! it glows with peace and joy.When the sun of bliss is beamingLight and love upon my way,From the cross the radiance streamingAdds new lustre to the day.129 /99Bane and blessing, pain and pleasureBy the cross are sanctified,Peace is there that knows no measure,Joys that through all time abide.THE TUNE.Ithamar Conkey's “Rathbun” fits the adoring words as if they had waited for it. Its air, swelling through diatonic fourth and third to the supreme syllable, bears on its waves the homage of the lines from bar to bar till the four voices come home to rest full and satisfied in the final chord—Gathers round its head sublime.Ithamar Conkey, was born of Scotch ancestry, in Shutesbury, Mass., May 5th, 1815. He was a noted bass singer, and was for a long time connected with the choir of the Calvary church, New York City, and sang the oratorio solos. His tune of “Rathbun” was composed in 1847, and published in Greatorex's collection in 1851. He died in Elizabeth, N.J., April 30, 1867.130 /100CHAPTER III.HYMNS OF CHRISTIAN DEVOTION AND EXPERIENCE.“JESU DULCIS MEMORIA.”“Jesus the Very Thought of Thee.”The original of this delightful hymn is one of the devout meditations of Bernard of Clairvaux, a Cistercian monk (1091–1153). He was born of a noble family in or near Dijon, Burgundy, and when only twenty-three years old established a monastery at Clairvaux, France, over which he presided as its first abbot. Educated in the University of Paris, and possessing great natural abilities, he soon made himself felt in both the religious and political affairs of Europe. For more than thirty years he was the personal power that directed belief, quieted turbulence, and arbitrated disputes, and kings and even popes sought his counsel. It was his eloquent preaching that inspired the second crusade.His fine poem of feeling, in fifty Latin stanzas, has been a source of pious song in several languages:131 /101Jesu, dulcis memoriaDans vera cordi gaudia,Sed super mel et omniumEjus dulcis presentia.Literally—Jesus! a sweet memoryGiving true joys to the heart,But sweet above honey and all thingsHispresence[is].The five stanzas (of Caswall's free translation) now in use are familiar and dear to all English-speaking believers:Jesus, the very thought of TheeWith sweetness fills my breast,But sweeter far Thy face to see,And in Thy presence rest.Nor voice can sing nor heart can frameNor can the memory find,A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,O Saviour of mankind.The Rev. Edward Caswall was born in Hampshire, Eng., July 15, 1814, the son of a clergyman. He graduated with honors at Brazenose College, Oxford, and after ten years of service in the ministry of the Church of England joined Henry Newman's Oratory at Birmingham, was confirmed in the Church of Rome, and devoted the rest of his life to works of piety and charity. He died Jan. 2, 1878.THE TUNE.No single melody has attached itself to this hymn, the scope of selection being as large as the132 /102supply of appropriate common-metre tunes. Barnby's “Holy Trinity,” Wade's “Holy Cross” and Griggs' tune (of his own name) are all good, but many, on the giving out of the hymn, would associate it at once with the more familiar “Heber” by George Kingsley and expect to hear it sung. It has the uplift and unction of John Newton's—How sweet the name of Jesus soundsIn the believer's ear.“GOD CALLING YET! SHALL I NOT HEAR?”Gerhard Tersteegen, the original author of the hymn, and one of the most eminent religious poets of the Reformed German church in its early days, was born in 1697, in the town of Mors, in Westphalia. He was left an orphan in boyhood by the death of his father, and as his mother's means were limited, he was put to work as an apprentice when very young, at Muhlheim on theRuhr, and became a ribbon weaver. Here, when about fifteen years of age, he became deeply concerned for his soul, and experienced a deep and abiding spiritual work. As a Christian, his religion partook of the ascetic type, but his mysticism did not make him useless to his fellow-men.At the age of twenty-seven, he dedicated all his resources and energies to the cause of Christ, writing the dedication in his own blood. “God graciously called me,” he says, “out of the world, and granted me the desire to belong to Him, and133 /103to be willing to follow Him.” He gave up secular employments altogether, and devoted his whole time to religious instruction and to the poor. His house became famous as the “Pilgrims' Cottage,” and was visited by people high and humble from all parts of Germany. In his lifetime he is said to have written one hundred and eleven hymns. Died April 3, 1769.God calling yet! shall I not hear?Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear?Shall life's swift-passing years all fly,And still my soul in slumber lie?* * * * * *God calling yet! I cannot stay;My heart I yield without delay.Vain world, farewell; from thee I part;The voice of God hath reached my heart.The hymn was translated from the German by Miss Jane Borthwick, born in Edinburgh, 1813. She and her younger sister, Mrs. Findlater, jointly translated and published, in 1854,Hymns From the Land of Luther, and contributed many poetical pieces to theFamily Treasury. She died in 1897.Another translation, imitating the German metre, is more euphonious, though less literal and less easily fitted to music not specially composed for it, on account of its “feminine” rhymes:God calling yet! and shall I never hearken?But still earth's witcheries my spirit darken;This passing life, these passing joys all flying,And still my soul in dreamy slumbers lying?134 /104THE TUNE.Dr. Dykes' “Rivaulx” is a sober choral that articulates the hymn-writer's sentiment with sincerity and with considerable earnestness, but breathes too faintly the interrogative and expostulary tone of the lines. To voice the devout solicitude and self-remonstrance of the hymn there is no tune superior to “Federal St.”The Hon. Henry Kemble Oliver, author of “Federal St.,” was born in Salem, Mass., March, 1800, and was addicted to music from his childhood. His father compelled him to relinquish it as a profession, but it remained his favorite avocation, and after his graduation from Harvard the cares of none of the various public positions he held, from schoolmaster to treasurer of the state of Massachusetts, could ever wean him from the study of music and its practice. At the age of thirty-one, while sitting one day in his study, the last verse of Anne Steele's hymn—So fades the lovely blooming flower,—floated into his mind, and an unbidden melody came with it. As he hummed it to himself the words shaped the air, and the air shaped the words.Then gentle patience smiles on pain,Then dying hope revives again,—became—See gentle patience smile on pain;See dying hope revive again;135 /105—and with the change of a word and a tense the hymn created the melody, and soon afterward the complete tune was made. Two years later it was published by Lowell Mason, and Oliver gave it the name of the street in Salem on which his wife was born, wooed, won, and married. It adds a pathos to its history that “Federal St.” was sung at her burial.This first of Oliver's tunes was followed by “Harmony Grove,” “Morning,” “Walnut Grove,” “Merton,” “Hudson,” “Bosworth,” “Salisbury Plain,” several anthems and motets, and a “Te Deum.”In his old age, at the great Peace Jubilee in Boston, 1872, the baton was put into his hands, and the gray-haired composer conducted the chorus of ten thousand voices as they sang the words and music of his noble harmony. The incident made “Federal St.” more than ever a feature of New England history. Oliver died in 1885.“MY GOD, HOW ENDLESS IS THY LOVE.”The spirited tune to this hymn of Watts, by Frederick Lampe, variously named “Kent” and “Devonshire,” historically reaches back so near to the poet's time that it must have been one of the earliest expressions of his fervent words.Johan Friedrich Lampe, born 1693, in Saxony, was educated in music at Helmstadt, and came to136 /106England in 1725 as a band musician and composer to Covent Garden Theater. His best-known secular piece is the music written to Henry Carey's burlesque, “The Dragon of Wantley.”Mrs. Rich, wife of the lessee of the theater, was converted under the preaching of the Methodists, and after her husband's death her house became the home of Lampe and his wife, where Charles Wesley often met him.The influence of Wesley won him to more serious work, and he became one of the evangelist's helpers, supplying tunes to his singing campaigns. Wesley became attached to him, and after his death—in Edinburgh, 1752—commemorated the musician in a funeral hymn.In popular favor Bradbury's tune of “Rolland” has now superseded the old music sung to Watts' lines—My God, how endless is Thy love,Thy gifts are every evening new,And morning mercies from aboveGently distil like early dew.* * * * * *I yield my powers to Thy command;To Thee I consecrate my days;Perpetual blessings from Thy handDemand perpetual songs of praise.William Batchelder Bradbury, a pupil of Dr. Lowell Mason, and the pioneer in publishing Sunday-school music, was born 1816, in York, Me. His father, a veteran of the Revolution, was a137 /107choir leader, and William's love of music was inherited. He left his father's farm, and came to Boston, where he first heard a church-organ. Encouraged by Mason and others to follow music as a profession, he went abroad, studied at Leipsic, and soon after his return became known as a composer of sacred tunes. He died in Montclair, N.J., 1868.“I'M NOT ASHAMED TO OWN MY LORD.”The favorite tune for this spiritual hymn, also by Watts, is old “Arlington,” one of the most useful church melodies in the whole realm of English psalmody. Its name clings to a Boston street, and the beautiful chimes of Arlington St. church (Unitarian) annually ring its music on special occasions, as it has since the bells were tuned:I'm not ashamed to own my LordOr to defend His cause,Maintain the honor of His Word,The glory of His cross.Jesus, my God!—I know His Name;His Name is all my trust,Nor will He put my soul to shameNor let my hope be lost.Dr. Thomas Augustine Arne, the creator of “Arlington,” was born in London, 1710, the son of a King St. upholsterer. He studied at Eton, and though intended for the legal profession, gave his whole mind to music. At twenty-three he began138 /108writing operas for his sister, Susanna (a singer who afterwards became the famous tragic actress, Mrs. Cibber).Arne's music to Milton's “Comus,” and to “Rule Brittannia” established his reputation. He was engaged as composer to Drury Lane Theater, and in 1759 received from Oxford his degree of Music Doctor. Later in life he turned his attention to oratorios, and other forms of sacred music, and was the first to introduce female voices in choir singing. He died March 5, 1778, chanting hallelujahs, it is said, with his last breath.“IS THIS THE KIND RETURN?”Dr. Watts in this hymn gave experimental piety its hour and language of reflection and penitence:Is this the kind return?Are these the thanks we owe,Thus to abuse Eternal LoveWhence all our blessings flow?* * * * * *Let past ingratitudeProvoke our weeping eyes.United in loving wedlock with these words in former years was “Golden Hill,” a chime of sweet counterpoint too rare to bury its authorship under the vague phrase “A Western Melody.” It was caught evidently from a forest bird*that flutes its clear solo in the sunsets of May and June. There139 /109can be no mistaking the imitation—the same compass, the same upward thrill, the same fall and warbled turn. Old-time folk used to call for it, “Sing, my Fairweather Bird.” It lingers in a few of the twenty- or thirty-years-ago collections, but stronger voices have drowned it out of the new.* The wood thrush.“Thacher,” (set to the same hymn,) faintly recalls its melody. Nevertheless “Thacher” is a good tune. Though commonly written in sharps, contrasting the B flat of its softer and more liquid rival of other days, it is one of Handel's strains, and lends the meaning and pathos of the lyric text to voice and instrument.“WHEN I SURVEY THE WONDROUS CROSS.”This crown of all the sacred odes of Dr. Watts for the song-service of the church of God was called by Matthew Arnold the “greatest hymn in the English language.” The day the eminent critic died he heard it sung in the Sefton Park Presbyterian Church, and repeated the opening lines softly to himself again and again after the services. The hymn is certainlyoneof the greatest in the language. It appeared as No. 7 in Watts' third edition (about 1710) containing five stanzas. The second line—On which the Prince of Glory died,—read originally—Where the young Prince of Glory died.140 /110Only four stanzas are now generally used. The omitted one—His dying crimson like a robeSpreads o'er His body on the tree;Then am I dead to all the globe,And all the globe is dead to me.—is a flash of tragic imagination, showing the sanguine intensity of Christian vision in earlier time, when contemplating the Saviour's passion; but it is too realistic for the spirit and genius of song-worship. That the great hymn was designed by the writer for communion seasons, and was inspired by Gal. 6:14, explains the two last lines if not the whole of the highly colored verse.THE TUNE.One has a wide field of choice in seeking the best musical interpretation of this royal song of faith and self-effacement:When I survey the wondrous CrossOn which the Prince of Glory died,My richest gain I count but loss,And pour contempt on all my pride.Forbid it, Lord, that I should boastSave in the death of Christ my God;All the vain things that charm me most,I sacrifice them to His blood.See from His head, His hands, His feet,Sorrow and love flow mingled down;Did e'er such love and sorrow meet;Or thorns compose so rich a crown?141 /111Were the whole realm of Nature mine,That were a present far too small;Love so amazing, so divine,Demands my soul, my life, my all.To match the height and depth of these words with fitting glory of sound might well have been an ambition of devout composers. Rev. G.C. Wells' tune in theRevivalist, with its emotional chorus, I.B. Woodbury's “Eucharist” in theMethodist Hymnal, Henry Smart's effective choral in Barnby'sHymnary(No. 170), and a score of others, have woven the feeling lines into melody with varying success. Worshippers in spiritual sympathy with the words may question if, after all, old “Hamburg,” the best of Mason's loved Gregorians, does not, alone, in tone and elocution, rise to the level of the hymn.“LOVE DIVINE, ALL LOVES EXCELLING.”This evergreen song-wreath to the Crucified, was contributed by Charles Wesley, in 1746. It is found in his collection of 1756,Hymns for Those That Seek and Those That Have Redemption in the Blood of Jesus Christ.Love Divine all loves excelling,Joy of Heaven to earth come down,Fix in us Thy humble dwelling,All Thy faithful mercies crown.* * * * * *Come Almighty to deliver,Let us all Thy life receive,142 /112Suddenly return, and never,Nevermore Thy temples leave.* * * * * *Finish then Thy new creation;Pure and spotless let us be;Let us see our whole salvationPerfectly secured by Thee.Changed from glory into gloryTill in Heaven we take our place,Till we cast our crowns before TheeLost in wonder, love and praise!The hymn has been set to H. Isaac's ancient tune (1490), to Wyeth's “Nettleton” (1810), to Thos. H. Bailey's (1777–1839) “Isle of Beauty, fare thee well” (named from Thomas Moore's song), to Edward Hopkins' “St. Joseph,” and to a multitude of others more or less familiar.Most familiar of all perhaps, (as in the instance of “Far from mortal cares retreating,”) is its association with “Greenville,” the production of that brilliant but erratic genius and freethinker, Jean Jacques Rousseau. It was originally a love serenade, (“Days of absence, sad and dreary”) from the opera ofLe Devin du Village, written about 1752. The song was commonly known years afterwards as “Rousseau's Dream.” But the unbelieving philosopher, musician, and misguided moralist builded better than he knew, and probably better than he meant when he wrote his immortal choral. Whatever he heard in his “dream” (and one legend says it was a “song of143 /113angels”) he created a harmony dear to the church he despised, and softened the hearts of the Christian world towards an evil teacher who was inspired, like Balaam, to utter one sacred strain.Rousseau was born in Geneva, 1712, but he never knew his mother, and neither the affection or interest of his father or of his other relatives was of the quality to insure the best bringing up of a child.He died July, 1778. But his song survives, while the world gladly forgets everything else he wrote. It is almost a pardonable exaggeration to say that every child in Christendom knows “Greenville.”“WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD.”This charming hymn was written by Addison, the celebrated English poet and essayist, about 1701, in grateful commemoration of his delivery from shipwreck in a storm off the coast of Genoa, Italy. It originally contained thirteen stanzas, but no more than four or six are commonly sung. It has put the language of devotional gratitude into the mouths of thousands of humble disciples who could but feebly frame their own:When all Thy mercies, O my GodMy rising soul surveys,Transported with the view I'm lostIn wonder, love and praise.Unnumbered comforts on my soulThy tender care bestowed144 /114Before my infant heart conceivedFrom whom those comforts flowed.When in the slippery paths of youthWith heedless steps I ran,Thine arm unseen conveyed me safe,And led me up to man.Another hymn of Addison—How are Thy servants bless'd, O Lord,—was probably composed after the same return from a foreign voyage. It has been called his “Traveller's Hymn.”Joseph Addison, the best English writer of his time, was the son of Lancelot Addison, rector of Milston, Wiltshire, and afterwards Dean of Litchfield. The distinguished author was born in Milston Rectory, May 1, 1672, and was educated at Oxford. His excellence in poetry, both English and Latin, gave him early reputation, and a patriotic ode obtained for him the patronage of Lord Somers. A pension from King William III. assured him a comfortable income, which was increased by further honors, for in 1704 he was appointed Commissioner of Appeals, then secretary of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and in 1717 Secretary of State. He died in Holland House, Kensington, near London, June 17, 1719.His hymns are not numerous, (said to be only five), but they are remarkable for the simple beauty of their style, as well as for their Christian spirit. Of his fine metrical version of the 23rd Psalm,—145 /115The Lord my pasture shall prepare,And feed me with a shepherd's care,—one of his earliest productions, the tradition is that he gathered its imagery when a boy living at Netheravon, near Salisbury Plain, during his lonely two-mile walks to school at Amesbury and back again. All his hymns appeared first in theSpectator, to which he was a prolific contributor.THE TUNE.The hymn “When all Thy mercies” still has “Geneva” for its vocal mate in some congregational manuals. The tune is one of the rare survivals of the old “canon” musical method, the parts coming in one after another with identical notes. It is always delightful as a performance with its glory of harmony and its sweet duet, and for generations it had no other words than Addison's hymn.John Cole, author of “Geneva,” was born in Tewksbury, Eng., 1774, and came to the United States in his boyhood (1785). Baltimore, Md. became his American home, and he was educated there. Early in life he became a musician and music publisher. At least twelve of his principal song collections from 1800 to 1832 are mentioned by Mr. Hubert P. Main, most of them sacred and containing many of his own tunes.He continued to compose music till his death, Aug. 17, 1855. Mr. Cole was leader of the146 /116regimental band known as “The Independent Blues,” which played in the war of 1812, and was present at the “North Point” fight, and other battles.Besides “Geneva,” for real feeling and harmonic beauty “Manoah,” adapted from Haydn's Creation, deserves mention as admirably suited to “Addison's” hymn, and also “Belmont,” by Samuel Webbe, which resembles it in style and sentiment.Samuel Webbe, composer of “Belmont,” was of English parentage but was born in Minorca, Balearic Islands, in 1740, where his father at that time held a government appointment; but his father, dying suddenly, left his family poor, and Samuel was apprenticed to a cabinet-maker. He served his apprenticeship, and immediately repaired to a London teacher and began the study of music and languages. Surmounting great difficulties, he became a competent musician, and made himself popular as a composer of glees. He was also the author of several masses, anthems, and hymn-tunes, the best of which are still in occasional use. Died in London, 1816.“JESUS, I LOVE THY CHARMING NAME.”When Dr. Doddridge, the author of this hymn, during his useful ministry, had finished the preparation of a pulpit discourse that strongly impressed him, he was accustomed, while his heart was yet glowing with the sentiment that had147 /117inspired him, to put the principal thoughts into metre, and use the hymn thus written at the conclusion of the preaching of the sermon. This hymn of Christian ardor was written to be sung after a sermon from Romans 8:35, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?”Jesus, I love Thy charming name,'Tis music to mine ear:Fain would I sound it out so loudThat earth and heaven should hear.* * * * * *I'll speak the honors of Thy nameWith my last laboring breath,Then speechless, clasp Thee in my arms,The conqueror of death.Earlier copies have—Theantidoteof death.Philip Doddridge, D.D., was born in London, June 26, 1702. Educated at Kingston Grammar School and Kibworth Academy, he became a scholar of respectable attainments, and was ordained to the Non-conformist ministry. He was pastor of the Congregational church at Northampton, from 1729 until his death, acting meanwhile as principal of the Theological School in that place. In 1749 he ceased to preach and went to Lisbon for his health, but died there about two years later, of consumption, Oct. 26, 1752.148 /118THE TUNE.The hymn has been sometimes sung to “Pisgah,” an old revival piece by J.C. Lowry (1820) once much heard in camp-meetings, but it is a pedestrian tune with too many quavers, and a headlong tempo.Bradbury's “Jazer,” in three-four time, is a melody with modulations, though more sympathetic, but it is hard to divorce the hymn from its long-time consort, old “Arlington.” It has the accent of its sincerity, and the breath of its devotion.“LO, ON A NARROW NECK OF LAND.”This hymn of Charles Wesley is always designated now by the above line, the first of thesecondstanza as originally written. It is said to have been composed at Land's End, in Cornwall, with the British Channel and the broad Atlantic in view and surging on both sides around a “narrow neck of land.”Lo! on a narrow neck of land,Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand,Secure, insensible:A point of time, a moment's space,Removes me to that heavenly place,Or shuts me up in hell.O God, mine inmost soul convert,And deeply on my thoughtful heartEternal things impress:Give me to feel their solemn weight,149 /119And tremble on the brink of fate,And wake to righteousness.The preachers and poets of the great spiritual movement of the eighteenth century in England abated nothing in the candor of their words. The terrible earnestness of conviction tipped their tongues and pens with fire.THE TUNE.Lady Huntingdon would have lent “Meribah” gladly to this hymn, but Mason was not yet born. Many times it has been borrowed for Wesley's words since it came to its own, and the spirit of the pious Countess has doubtless approved the loan. It is rich enough to furnish forth her own lyric and more than one other of like matter and metre.The muscular music of “Ganges” has sometimes carried the hymn, and there are those who think its thunder is not a whit more Hebraic than the words require.“COME YE SINNERS POOR AND NEEDY.”Few hymns have been more frequently sung in prayer-meetings and religious assemblies during the last hundred and fifty years. Its author, Joseph Hart, spoke what he knew and testified what he felt. Born in London, 1712, and liberally educated, he was in his young manhood very religious, but he went so far astray as to indulge in evil practices, and150 /120even published writings, both original and translated, against Christianity and religion of any kind. But he could not drink at the Dead Sea and live. The apples of Sodom sickened him. Conscience asserted itself, and the pangs of remorse nearly drove him to despair till he turned back to the source he had forsaken. He alludes to this experience in the lines—Let not conscience make you linger,Nor of fitness fondly dream;All the fitness He requirethIs to feel your need of Him.During Passion Week, 1767, he had an amazing view of the sufferings of Christ, under the stress of which his heart was changed. In the joy of this experience he wrote—Come ye sinners poor and needy,—and—Come all ye chosen saints of God.Probably no two hymn-lines have been oftener repeated than—If you tarry till you're betterYou will never come at all.The complete form of the original stanzas is:Come ye sinners poor and needy,Weak and wounded, sick and sore;Jesus ready stands to save you,Full of pity, love and power.He is able,He is willing; doubt no more.151 /121The whole hymn—ten stanzas—is not sung now as one, but two, the second division beginning with the line—Come ye weary, heavy laden.Rev. Joseph Hart became minister of Jewin St. Congregational Chapel, London, about 1760, where he labored till his death, May 24, 1768.THE TUNE.A revival song by Jeremiah Ingalls (1764–1828), written about 1804, with an easy, popular swing and asforzandochorus—Turn to the Lord and seek salvation,—monopolized this hymn for a good many years. The tunes commonly assigned to it have since been “Greenville” and Von Weber's “Wilmot,” in which last it is now more generally sung—dropping the echo lines at the end of each stanza.Carl Maria Von Weber, son of a roving musician, was born in Eutin, Germany, 1786. He developed no remarkable genius till he was about twenty years old, though being a fine vocalist, his singing brought him popularity and gain; but in 1806 he nearly lost his voice by accidently drinking nitric acid. He was for several years private secretary to Duke Ludwig at Stuttgart, and in 1813 Chapel-Master at Prague, from which place he went to Dresden in 1817 as Musik-Director.Von Weber's Korner songs won the hearts of all Germany; and his immortal “Der Freischutz”152 /122(the Free Archer), and numerous tender melodies like the airs to “John Anderson, my Jo” and “O Poortith Cauld” have gone to all civilized nations. No other composer had such feeling for beauty of sound.This beloved musician was physically frail and delicate, and died of untimely decline, during a visit to London in 1826.“O HAPPY SAINTS WHO DWELL IN LIGHT.”Sometimes printed “O happysouls.” This poetical and flowing hymn seems to have been forgotten in the making up of most modern church hymnals. Hymns on heaven and heavenly joys abound in embarrassing numbers, but it is difficult to understand why this beautiful lyric should beuniversallyneglected. It was written probably about 1760, by Rev. John Berridge, from the text, “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord,”The first line of the second stanza—Released from sorrow, toil and strife,—has been tinkered in some of the older hymn-books, where it is found to read—,Released from sorrows toil andgrief,—not only committing a tautology, but destroying the perfect rhyme with “life” in the next line. The whole hymn, too, has been much altered by substituted words and shifted lines, though not generally to the serious detriment of its meaning and music.153 /123The Rev. John Berridge—friend of the Wesleys, Whitefield, and Lady Huntingdon—was an eccentric but very worthy and spiritual minister, born the son of a farmer, in Kingston, Nottinghamshire, Eng., Mar. 1, 1716. He studied at Cambridge, and was ordained curate of Stapleford and subsequently located as vicar of Everton, 1775. He died Jan. 22, 1793. He loved to preach, and he was determined that his tombstone should preach after his voice was still. His epitaph, composed by himself, is both a testimony and a memoir:“Here lie the earthly remains of John Berridge, late vicar of Everton, and an itinerant servant of Jesus Christ, who loved his Master and His work, and after running His errands many years, was called up to wait on Him above.“Reader, art thou born again?“No salvation without the new birth.“I was born in sin, February, 1716.“Remained ignorant of my fallen state till 1730.“Lived proudly on faith and works for salvation till 1751.“Admitted to Everton vicarage, 1755.“Fled to Jesus alone for refuge, 1756.“Fell asleep in Jesus Christ,—” (1793.)THE TUNE.The once popular score that easily made the hymn a favorite, was “Salem,” in the oldPsalmodist. It still appears in some note-books, though the name of its composer is uncertain. Its notes (in 6-8 time) succeed each other in syllabic modulations that give a soft dactylic accent to the measure and a wavy current to the lines:154 /124O happy saints that dwell in light,And walk with Jesus clothed in white,Safe landed on that peaceful shore,Where pilgrims meet to part no more:Released from sorrow, toil and strife,Death was the gate to endless life,And now they range the heavenly plainsAnd sing His love in melting strains.Another version reads:——and welcome to an endless life,Their souls have now begun to proveThe height and depth of Jesus' love.“THOU DEAR REDEEMER, DYING LAMB.”The author, John Cennick, like Joseph Hart, was led to Christ after a reckless boyhood and youth, by the work of the Divine Spirit in his soul, independent of any direct outward influence. Sickened of his cards, novels, and playhouse pleasures, he had begun a sort of mechanical reform, when one day, walking in the streets of London, he suddenly seemed to hear the text spoken “I am thy salvation!” His consecration began at that moment.He studied for the ministry, and became a preacher, first under direction of the Wesleys, then under Whitefield, but afterwards joined the Moravians, or “Brethren.” He was born at Reading, Derbyshire, Eng., Dec. 12, 1718,and died in London, July 4, 1755.155 /125THE TUNE.The word “Rhine” (in some collections—in others “Emmons”) names a revival tune once so linked with this hymn and so well known that few religious people now past middle life could enjoy singing it to any other. With a compass one note beyond an octave and a third, it utters every line with a clear, bold gladness sure to infect a meeting with its own spiritual fervor.Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb,I love to hear of Thee;No music like Thy charming name,Nor half so sweet can be.The composer of the bright legato melody just described was Frederick Burgmüller, a young German musician, born in 1804. He was a remarkable genius, both in composition and execution, but his health was frail, and he did not live to fulfil the rich possibilities that lay within him. He died in 1824—only twenty years old. The tune “Rhine” (“Emmons”) is from one of his marches.“WHILE THEE I SEEK, PROTECTING POWER.”Helen Maria Williams wrote this sweet hymn, probably about the year 1800. She was a brilliant woman, better known in literary society for her political verses and essays than by her hymns; but the hymn here noted bears sufficient witness to her deep religious feeling:156 /126While Thee I seek, Protecting Power,Be my vain wishes stilled,And may this consecrated hourWith better hopes be filled.Thy love the power of thought bestowed;To Thee my thoughts would soar,Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed,That mercy I adore.Miss Williams was born in the north of England, Nov. 30, 1762, but spent much of her life in London, and in Paris, where she died, Dec. 14, 1827.THE TUNE.Wedded so many years to the gentle, flowing music of Pleyel's “Brattle Street,” few lovers of the hymn recall its words without the melody of that emotional choral.The plain psalm-tune, “Simpson,” by Louis Spohr, divides the stanzas into quatrains.“JESUS MY ALL TO HEAVEN IS GONE.”This hymn, by Cennick, was familiarized to the public more than two generations ago by its revival tune, sometimes called “Duane Street,” long-metredouble. It is staffed in various keys, but its movement is full of life and emphasis, and its melody is contagious. The piece was composed by Rev. George Coles, in 1835.The fact that this hymn of Cennick with Coles's tune appears in theNew Methodist Hymnalindicates the survival of both in modern favor.159 /127

How sweetly flowed the Gospel soundFrom lips of gentleness and graceWhen listening thousands gathered round,And joy and gladness filled the place,

How sweetly flowed the Gospel sound

From lips of gentleness and grace

When listening thousands gathered round,

And joy and gladness filled the place,

—and the more famous hymn indicated at the head of this sketch. Knowledge of all religions only qualified him to worship the Crucified with both faith and reason. Though nominally a Unitarian, to him, as to Channing and Martineau and Edmund Sears, Christ was “all we know of God.”

* Exaggerated in some accounts toforty.

Bowring died Nov. 23, 1872. But his hymn to the Cross will never die:

In the cross of Christ I glory,Towering o'er the wrecks of time;All the light of sacred storyGathers round its head sublime.When the woes of life o'ertake meHopes deceive, and fears annoy,Never shall the cross forsake me;Lo! it glows with peace and joy.When the sun of bliss is beamingLight and love upon my way,From the cross the radiance streamingAdds new lustre to the day.129 /99Bane and blessing, pain and pleasureBy the cross are sanctified,Peace is there that knows no measure,Joys that through all time abide.

In the cross of Christ I glory,Towering o'er the wrecks of time;All the light of sacred storyGathers round its head sublime.

In the cross of Christ I glory,

Towering o'er the wrecks of time;

All the light of sacred story

Gathers round its head sublime.

When the woes of life o'ertake meHopes deceive, and fears annoy,Never shall the cross forsake me;Lo! it glows with peace and joy.

When the woes of life o'ertake me

Hopes deceive, and fears annoy,

Never shall the cross forsake me;

Lo! it glows with peace and joy.

When the sun of bliss is beamingLight and love upon my way,From the cross the radiance streamingAdds new lustre to the day.

When the sun of bliss is beaming

Light and love upon my way,

From the cross the radiance streaming

Adds new lustre to the day.

Bane and blessing, pain and pleasureBy the cross are sanctified,Peace is there that knows no measure,Joys that through all time abide.

Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure

By the cross are sanctified,

Peace is there that knows no measure,

Joys that through all time abide.

Ithamar Conkey's “Rathbun” fits the adoring words as if they had waited for it. Its air, swelling through diatonic fourth and third to the supreme syllable, bears on its waves the homage of the lines from bar to bar till the four voices come home to rest full and satisfied in the final chord—

Gathers round its head sublime.

Ithamar Conkey, was born of Scotch ancestry, in Shutesbury, Mass., May 5th, 1815. He was a noted bass singer, and was for a long time connected with the choir of the Calvary church, New York City, and sang the oratorio solos. His tune of “Rathbun” was composed in 1847, and published in Greatorex's collection in 1851. He died in Elizabeth, N.J., April 30, 1867.

The original of this delightful hymn is one of the devout meditations of Bernard of Clairvaux, a Cistercian monk (1091–1153). He was born of a noble family in or near Dijon, Burgundy, and when only twenty-three years old established a monastery at Clairvaux, France, over which he presided as its first abbot. Educated in the University of Paris, and possessing great natural abilities, he soon made himself felt in both the religious and political affairs of Europe. For more than thirty years he was the personal power that directed belief, quieted turbulence, and arbitrated disputes, and kings and even popes sought his counsel. It was his eloquent preaching that inspired the second crusade.

His fine poem of feeling, in fifty Latin stanzas, has been a source of pious song in several languages:

Jesu, dulcis memoriaDans vera cordi gaudia,Sed super mel et omniumEjus dulcis presentia.

Jesu, dulcis memoria

Dans vera cordi gaudia,

Sed super mel et omnium

Ejus dulcis presentia.

Literally—

Jesus! a sweet memoryGiving true joys to the heart,But sweet above honey and all thingsHispresence[is].

Jesus! a sweet memory

Giving true joys to the heart,

But sweet above honey and all things

Hispresence[is].

The five stanzas (of Caswall's free translation) now in use are familiar and dear to all English-speaking believers:

Jesus, the very thought of TheeWith sweetness fills my breast,But sweeter far Thy face to see,And in Thy presence rest.Nor voice can sing nor heart can frameNor can the memory find,A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,O Saviour of mankind.

Jesus, the very thought of TheeWith sweetness fills my breast,But sweeter far Thy face to see,And in Thy presence rest.

Jesus, the very thought of Thee

With sweetness fills my breast,

But sweeter far Thy face to see,

And in Thy presence rest.

Nor voice can sing nor heart can frameNor can the memory find,A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,O Saviour of mankind.

Nor voice can sing nor heart can frame

Nor can the memory find,

A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,

O Saviour of mankind.

The Rev. Edward Caswall was born in Hampshire, Eng., July 15, 1814, the son of a clergyman. He graduated with honors at Brazenose College, Oxford, and after ten years of service in the ministry of the Church of England joined Henry Newman's Oratory at Birmingham, was confirmed in the Church of Rome, and devoted the rest of his life to works of piety and charity. He died Jan. 2, 1878.

No single melody has attached itself to this hymn, the scope of selection being as large as the132 /102supply of appropriate common-metre tunes. Barnby's “Holy Trinity,” Wade's “Holy Cross” and Griggs' tune (of his own name) are all good, but many, on the giving out of the hymn, would associate it at once with the more familiar “Heber” by George Kingsley and expect to hear it sung. It has the uplift and unction of John Newton's—

How sweet the name of Jesus soundsIn the believer's ear.

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds

In the believer's ear.

Gerhard Tersteegen, the original author of the hymn, and one of the most eminent religious poets of the Reformed German church in its early days, was born in 1697, in the town of Mors, in Westphalia. He was left an orphan in boyhood by the death of his father, and as his mother's means were limited, he was put to work as an apprentice when very young, at Muhlheim on theRuhr, and became a ribbon weaver. Here, when about fifteen years of age, he became deeply concerned for his soul, and experienced a deep and abiding spiritual work. As a Christian, his religion partook of the ascetic type, but his mysticism did not make him useless to his fellow-men.

At the age of twenty-seven, he dedicated all his resources and energies to the cause of Christ, writing the dedication in his own blood. “God graciously called me,” he says, “out of the world, and granted me the desire to belong to Him, and133 /103to be willing to follow Him.” He gave up secular employments altogether, and devoted his whole time to religious instruction and to the poor. His house became famous as the “Pilgrims' Cottage,” and was visited by people high and humble from all parts of Germany. In his lifetime he is said to have written one hundred and eleven hymns. Died April 3, 1769.

God calling yet! shall I not hear?Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear?Shall life's swift-passing years all fly,And still my soul in slumber lie?* * * * * *God calling yet! I cannot stay;My heart I yield without delay.Vain world, farewell; from thee I part;The voice of God hath reached my heart.

God calling yet! shall I not hear?Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear?Shall life's swift-passing years all fly,And still my soul in slumber lie?

God calling yet! shall I not hear?

Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear?

Shall life's swift-passing years all fly,

And still my soul in slumber lie?

* * * * * *

God calling yet! I cannot stay;My heart I yield without delay.Vain world, farewell; from thee I part;The voice of God hath reached my heart.

God calling yet! I cannot stay;

My heart I yield without delay.

Vain world, farewell; from thee I part;

The voice of God hath reached my heart.

The hymn was translated from the German by Miss Jane Borthwick, born in Edinburgh, 1813. She and her younger sister, Mrs. Findlater, jointly translated and published, in 1854,Hymns From the Land of Luther, and contributed many poetical pieces to theFamily Treasury. She died in 1897.

Another translation, imitating the German metre, is more euphonious, though less literal and less easily fitted to music not specially composed for it, on account of its “feminine” rhymes:

God calling yet! and shall I never hearken?But still earth's witcheries my spirit darken;This passing life, these passing joys all flying,And still my soul in dreamy slumbers lying?

God calling yet! and shall I never hearken?

But still earth's witcheries my spirit darken;

This passing life, these passing joys all flying,

And still my soul in dreamy slumbers lying?

Dr. Dykes' “Rivaulx” is a sober choral that articulates the hymn-writer's sentiment with sincerity and with considerable earnestness, but breathes too faintly the interrogative and expostulary tone of the lines. To voice the devout solicitude and self-remonstrance of the hymn there is no tune superior to “Federal St.”

The Hon. Henry Kemble Oliver, author of “Federal St.,” was born in Salem, Mass., March, 1800, and was addicted to music from his childhood. His father compelled him to relinquish it as a profession, but it remained his favorite avocation, and after his graduation from Harvard the cares of none of the various public positions he held, from schoolmaster to treasurer of the state of Massachusetts, could ever wean him from the study of music and its practice. At the age of thirty-one, while sitting one day in his study, the last verse of Anne Steele's hymn—

So fades the lovely blooming flower,

—floated into his mind, and an unbidden melody came with it. As he hummed it to himself the words shaped the air, and the air shaped the words.

Then gentle patience smiles on pain,Then dying hope revives again,

Then gentle patience smiles on pain,

Then dying hope revives again,

—became—

See gentle patience smile on pain;See dying hope revive again;

See gentle patience smile on pain;

See dying hope revive again;

—and with the change of a word and a tense the hymn created the melody, and soon afterward the complete tune was made. Two years later it was published by Lowell Mason, and Oliver gave it the name of the street in Salem on which his wife was born, wooed, won, and married. It adds a pathos to its history that “Federal St.” was sung at her burial.

This first of Oliver's tunes was followed by “Harmony Grove,” “Morning,” “Walnut Grove,” “Merton,” “Hudson,” “Bosworth,” “Salisbury Plain,” several anthems and motets, and a “Te Deum.”

In his old age, at the great Peace Jubilee in Boston, 1872, the baton was put into his hands, and the gray-haired composer conducted the chorus of ten thousand voices as they sang the words and music of his noble harmony. The incident made “Federal St.” more than ever a feature of New England history. Oliver died in 1885.

The spirited tune to this hymn of Watts, by Frederick Lampe, variously named “Kent” and “Devonshire,” historically reaches back so near to the poet's time that it must have been one of the earliest expressions of his fervent words.

Johan Friedrich Lampe, born 1693, in Saxony, was educated in music at Helmstadt, and came to136 /106England in 1725 as a band musician and composer to Covent Garden Theater. His best-known secular piece is the music written to Henry Carey's burlesque, “The Dragon of Wantley.”

Mrs. Rich, wife of the lessee of the theater, was converted under the preaching of the Methodists, and after her husband's death her house became the home of Lampe and his wife, where Charles Wesley often met him.

The influence of Wesley won him to more serious work, and he became one of the evangelist's helpers, supplying tunes to his singing campaigns. Wesley became attached to him, and after his death—in Edinburgh, 1752—commemorated the musician in a funeral hymn.

In popular favor Bradbury's tune of “Rolland” has now superseded the old music sung to Watts' lines—

My God, how endless is Thy love,Thy gifts are every evening new,And morning mercies from aboveGently distil like early dew.* * * * * *I yield my powers to Thy command;To Thee I consecrate my days;Perpetual blessings from Thy handDemand perpetual songs of praise.

My God, how endless is Thy love,Thy gifts are every evening new,And morning mercies from aboveGently distil like early dew.

My God, how endless is Thy love,

Thy gifts are every evening new,

And morning mercies from above

Gently distil like early dew.

* * * * * *

I yield my powers to Thy command;To Thee I consecrate my days;Perpetual blessings from Thy handDemand perpetual songs of praise.

I yield my powers to Thy command;

To Thee I consecrate my days;

Perpetual blessings from Thy hand

Demand perpetual songs of praise.

William Batchelder Bradbury, a pupil of Dr. Lowell Mason, and the pioneer in publishing Sunday-school music, was born 1816, in York, Me. His father, a veteran of the Revolution, was a137 /107choir leader, and William's love of music was inherited. He left his father's farm, and came to Boston, where he first heard a church-organ. Encouraged by Mason and others to follow music as a profession, he went abroad, studied at Leipsic, and soon after his return became known as a composer of sacred tunes. He died in Montclair, N.J., 1868.

The favorite tune for this spiritual hymn, also by Watts, is old “Arlington,” one of the most useful church melodies in the whole realm of English psalmody. Its name clings to a Boston street, and the beautiful chimes of Arlington St. church (Unitarian) annually ring its music on special occasions, as it has since the bells were tuned:

I'm not ashamed to own my LordOr to defend His cause,Maintain the honor of His Word,The glory of His cross.Jesus, my God!—I know His Name;His Name is all my trust,Nor will He put my soul to shameNor let my hope be lost.

I'm not ashamed to own my LordOr to defend His cause,Maintain the honor of His Word,The glory of His cross.

I'm not ashamed to own my Lord

Or to defend His cause,

Maintain the honor of His Word,

The glory of His cross.

Jesus, my God!—I know His Name;His Name is all my trust,Nor will He put my soul to shameNor let my hope be lost.

Jesus, my God!—I know His Name;

His Name is all my trust,

Nor will He put my soul to shame

Nor let my hope be lost.

Dr. Thomas Augustine Arne, the creator of “Arlington,” was born in London, 1710, the son of a King St. upholsterer. He studied at Eton, and though intended for the legal profession, gave his whole mind to music. At twenty-three he began138 /108writing operas for his sister, Susanna (a singer who afterwards became the famous tragic actress, Mrs. Cibber).

Arne's music to Milton's “Comus,” and to “Rule Brittannia” established his reputation. He was engaged as composer to Drury Lane Theater, and in 1759 received from Oxford his degree of Music Doctor. Later in life he turned his attention to oratorios, and other forms of sacred music, and was the first to introduce female voices in choir singing. He died March 5, 1778, chanting hallelujahs, it is said, with his last breath.

Dr. Watts in this hymn gave experimental piety its hour and language of reflection and penitence:

Is this the kind return?Are these the thanks we owe,Thus to abuse Eternal LoveWhence all our blessings flow?* * * * * *Let past ingratitudeProvoke our weeping eyes.

Is this the kind return?Are these the thanks we owe,Thus to abuse Eternal LoveWhence all our blessings flow?

Is this the kind return?

Are these the thanks we owe,

Thus to abuse Eternal Love

Whence all our blessings flow?

* * * * * *

Let past ingratitudeProvoke our weeping eyes.

Let past ingratitude

Provoke our weeping eyes.

United in loving wedlock with these words in former years was “Golden Hill,” a chime of sweet counterpoint too rare to bury its authorship under the vague phrase “A Western Melody.” It was caught evidently from a forest bird*that flutes its clear solo in the sunsets of May and June. There139 /109can be no mistaking the imitation—the same compass, the same upward thrill, the same fall and warbled turn. Old-time folk used to call for it, “Sing, my Fairweather Bird.” It lingers in a few of the twenty- or thirty-years-ago collections, but stronger voices have drowned it out of the new.

* The wood thrush.

“Thacher,” (set to the same hymn,) faintly recalls its melody. Nevertheless “Thacher” is a good tune. Though commonly written in sharps, contrasting the B flat of its softer and more liquid rival of other days, it is one of Handel's strains, and lends the meaning and pathos of the lyric text to voice and instrument.

This crown of all the sacred odes of Dr. Watts for the song-service of the church of God was called by Matthew Arnold the “greatest hymn in the English language.” The day the eminent critic died he heard it sung in the Sefton Park Presbyterian Church, and repeated the opening lines softly to himself again and again after the services. The hymn is certainlyoneof the greatest in the language. It appeared as No. 7 in Watts' third edition (about 1710) containing five stanzas. The second line—

On which the Prince of Glory died,

—read originally—

Where the young Prince of Glory died.

Only four stanzas are now generally used. The omitted one—

His dying crimson like a robeSpreads o'er His body on the tree;Then am I dead to all the globe,And all the globe is dead to me.

His dying crimson like a robe

Spreads o'er His body on the tree;

Then am I dead to all the globe,

And all the globe is dead to me.

—is a flash of tragic imagination, showing the sanguine intensity of Christian vision in earlier time, when contemplating the Saviour's passion; but it is too realistic for the spirit and genius of song-worship. That the great hymn was designed by the writer for communion seasons, and was inspired by Gal. 6:14, explains the two last lines if not the whole of the highly colored verse.

One has a wide field of choice in seeking the best musical interpretation of this royal song of faith and self-effacement:

When I survey the wondrous CrossOn which the Prince of Glory died,My richest gain I count but loss,And pour contempt on all my pride.Forbid it, Lord, that I should boastSave in the death of Christ my God;All the vain things that charm me most,I sacrifice them to His blood.See from His head, His hands, His feet,Sorrow and love flow mingled down;Did e'er such love and sorrow meet;Or thorns compose so rich a crown?141 /111Were the whole realm of Nature mine,That were a present far too small;Love so amazing, so divine,Demands my soul, my life, my all.

When I survey the wondrous CrossOn which the Prince of Glory died,My richest gain I count but loss,And pour contempt on all my pride.

When I survey the wondrous Cross

On which the Prince of Glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boastSave in the death of Christ my God;All the vain things that charm me most,I sacrifice them to His blood.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast

Save in the death of Christ my God;

All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,Sorrow and love flow mingled down;Did e'er such love and sorrow meet;Or thorns compose so rich a crown?141 /111

See from His head, His hands, His feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingled down;

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet;

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of Nature mine,That were a present far too small;Love so amazing, so divine,Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Were the whole realm of Nature mine,

That were a present far too small;

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

To match the height and depth of these words with fitting glory of sound might well have been an ambition of devout composers. Rev. G.C. Wells' tune in theRevivalist, with its emotional chorus, I.B. Woodbury's “Eucharist” in theMethodist Hymnal, Henry Smart's effective choral in Barnby'sHymnary(No. 170), and a score of others, have woven the feeling lines into melody with varying success. Worshippers in spiritual sympathy with the words may question if, after all, old “Hamburg,” the best of Mason's loved Gregorians, does not, alone, in tone and elocution, rise to the level of the hymn.

This evergreen song-wreath to the Crucified, was contributed by Charles Wesley, in 1746. It is found in his collection of 1756,Hymns for Those That Seek and Those That Have Redemption in the Blood of Jesus Christ.

Love Divine all loves excelling,Joy of Heaven to earth come down,Fix in us Thy humble dwelling,All Thy faithful mercies crown.* * * * * *Come Almighty to deliver,Let us all Thy life receive,142 /112Suddenly return, and never,Nevermore Thy temples leave.* * * * * *Finish then Thy new creation;Pure and spotless let us be;Let us see our whole salvationPerfectly secured by Thee.Changed from glory into gloryTill in Heaven we take our place,Till we cast our crowns before TheeLost in wonder, love and praise!

Love Divine all loves excelling,Joy of Heaven to earth come down,Fix in us Thy humble dwelling,All Thy faithful mercies crown.

Love Divine all loves excelling,

Joy of Heaven to earth come down,

Fix in us Thy humble dwelling,

All Thy faithful mercies crown.

* * * * * *

Come Almighty to deliver,Let us all Thy life receive,142 /112Suddenly return, and never,Nevermore Thy temples leave.

Come Almighty to deliver,

Let us all Thy life receive,

Suddenly return, and never,

Nevermore Thy temples leave.

* * * * * *

Finish then Thy new creation;Pure and spotless let us be;Let us see our whole salvationPerfectly secured by Thee.

Finish then Thy new creation;

Pure and spotless let us be;

Let us see our whole salvation

Perfectly secured by Thee.

Changed from glory into gloryTill in Heaven we take our place,Till we cast our crowns before TheeLost in wonder, love and praise!

Changed from glory into glory

Till in Heaven we take our place,

Till we cast our crowns before Thee

Lost in wonder, love and praise!

The hymn has been set to H. Isaac's ancient tune (1490), to Wyeth's “Nettleton” (1810), to Thos. H. Bailey's (1777–1839) “Isle of Beauty, fare thee well” (named from Thomas Moore's song), to Edward Hopkins' “St. Joseph,” and to a multitude of others more or less familiar.

Most familiar of all perhaps, (as in the instance of “Far from mortal cares retreating,”) is its association with “Greenville,” the production of that brilliant but erratic genius and freethinker, Jean Jacques Rousseau. It was originally a love serenade, (“Days of absence, sad and dreary”) from the opera ofLe Devin du Village, written about 1752. The song was commonly known years afterwards as “Rousseau's Dream.” But the unbelieving philosopher, musician, and misguided moralist builded better than he knew, and probably better than he meant when he wrote his immortal choral. Whatever he heard in his “dream” (and one legend says it was a “song of143 /113angels”) he created a harmony dear to the church he despised, and softened the hearts of the Christian world towards an evil teacher who was inspired, like Balaam, to utter one sacred strain.

Rousseau was born in Geneva, 1712, but he never knew his mother, and neither the affection or interest of his father or of his other relatives was of the quality to insure the best bringing up of a child.

He died July, 1778. But his song survives, while the world gladly forgets everything else he wrote. It is almost a pardonable exaggeration to say that every child in Christendom knows “Greenville.”

This charming hymn was written by Addison, the celebrated English poet and essayist, about 1701, in grateful commemoration of his delivery from shipwreck in a storm off the coast of Genoa, Italy. It originally contained thirteen stanzas, but no more than four or six are commonly sung. It has put the language of devotional gratitude into the mouths of thousands of humble disciples who could but feebly frame their own:

When all Thy mercies, O my GodMy rising soul surveys,Transported with the view I'm lostIn wonder, love and praise.Unnumbered comforts on my soulThy tender care bestowed144 /114Before my infant heart conceivedFrom whom those comforts flowed.When in the slippery paths of youthWith heedless steps I ran,Thine arm unseen conveyed me safe,And led me up to man.

When all Thy mercies, O my GodMy rising soul surveys,Transported with the view I'm lostIn wonder, love and praise.

When all Thy mercies, O my God

My rising soul surveys,

Transported with the view I'm lost

In wonder, love and praise.

Unnumbered comforts on my soulThy tender care bestowed144 /114Before my infant heart conceivedFrom whom those comforts flowed.

Unnumbered comforts on my soul

Thy tender care bestowed

Before my infant heart conceived

From whom those comforts flowed.

When in the slippery paths of youthWith heedless steps I ran,Thine arm unseen conveyed me safe,And led me up to man.

When in the slippery paths of youth

With heedless steps I ran,

Thine arm unseen conveyed me safe,

And led me up to man.

Another hymn of Addison—

How are Thy servants bless'd, O Lord,

—was probably composed after the same return from a foreign voyage. It has been called his “Traveller's Hymn.”

Joseph Addison, the best English writer of his time, was the son of Lancelot Addison, rector of Milston, Wiltshire, and afterwards Dean of Litchfield. The distinguished author was born in Milston Rectory, May 1, 1672, and was educated at Oxford. His excellence in poetry, both English and Latin, gave him early reputation, and a patriotic ode obtained for him the patronage of Lord Somers. A pension from King William III. assured him a comfortable income, which was increased by further honors, for in 1704 he was appointed Commissioner of Appeals, then secretary of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and in 1717 Secretary of State. He died in Holland House, Kensington, near London, June 17, 1719.

His hymns are not numerous, (said to be only five), but they are remarkable for the simple beauty of their style, as well as for their Christian spirit. Of his fine metrical version of the 23rd Psalm,—

The Lord my pasture shall prepare,And feed me with a shepherd's care,

The Lord my pasture shall prepare,

And feed me with a shepherd's care,

—one of his earliest productions, the tradition is that he gathered its imagery when a boy living at Netheravon, near Salisbury Plain, during his lonely two-mile walks to school at Amesbury and back again. All his hymns appeared first in theSpectator, to which he was a prolific contributor.

The hymn “When all Thy mercies” still has “Geneva” for its vocal mate in some congregational manuals. The tune is one of the rare survivals of the old “canon” musical method, the parts coming in one after another with identical notes. It is always delightful as a performance with its glory of harmony and its sweet duet, and for generations it had no other words than Addison's hymn.

John Cole, author of “Geneva,” was born in Tewksbury, Eng., 1774, and came to the United States in his boyhood (1785). Baltimore, Md. became his American home, and he was educated there. Early in life he became a musician and music publisher. At least twelve of his principal song collections from 1800 to 1832 are mentioned by Mr. Hubert P. Main, most of them sacred and containing many of his own tunes.

He continued to compose music till his death, Aug. 17, 1855. Mr. Cole was leader of the146 /116regimental band known as “The Independent Blues,” which played in the war of 1812, and was present at the “North Point” fight, and other battles.

Besides “Geneva,” for real feeling and harmonic beauty “Manoah,” adapted from Haydn's Creation, deserves mention as admirably suited to “Addison's” hymn, and also “Belmont,” by Samuel Webbe, which resembles it in style and sentiment.

Samuel Webbe, composer of “Belmont,” was of English parentage but was born in Minorca, Balearic Islands, in 1740, where his father at that time held a government appointment; but his father, dying suddenly, left his family poor, and Samuel was apprenticed to a cabinet-maker. He served his apprenticeship, and immediately repaired to a London teacher and began the study of music and languages. Surmounting great difficulties, he became a competent musician, and made himself popular as a composer of glees. He was also the author of several masses, anthems, and hymn-tunes, the best of which are still in occasional use. Died in London, 1816.

When Dr. Doddridge, the author of this hymn, during his useful ministry, had finished the preparation of a pulpit discourse that strongly impressed him, he was accustomed, while his heart was yet glowing with the sentiment that had147 /117inspired him, to put the principal thoughts into metre, and use the hymn thus written at the conclusion of the preaching of the sermon. This hymn of Christian ardor was written to be sung after a sermon from Romans 8:35, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?”

Jesus, I love Thy charming name,'Tis music to mine ear:Fain would I sound it out so loudThat earth and heaven should hear.* * * * * *I'll speak the honors of Thy nameWith my last laboring breath,Then speechless, clasp Thee in my arms,The conqueror of death.

Jesus, I love Thy charming name,'Tis music to mine ear:Fain would I sound it out so loudThat earth and heaven should hear.

Jesus, I love Thy charming name,

'Tis music to mine ear:

Fain would I sound it out so loud

That earth and heaven should hear.

* * * * * *

I'll speak the honors of Thy nameWith my last laboring breath,Then speechless, clasp Thee in my arms,The conqueror of death.

I'll speak the honors of Thy name

With my last laboring breath,

Then speechless, clasp Thee in my arms,

The conqueror of death.

Earlier copies have—

Theantidoteof death.

Philip Doddridge, D.D., was born in London, June 26, 1702. Educated at Kingston Grammar School and Kibworth Academy, he became a scholar of respectable attainments, and was ordained to the Non-conformist ministry. He was pastor of the Congregational church at Northampton, from 1729 until his death, acting meanwhile as principal of the Theological School in that place. In 1749 he ceased to preach and went to Lisbon for his health, but died there about two years later, of consumption, Oct. 26, 1752.

The hymn has been sometimes sung to “Pisgah,” an old revival piece by J.C. Lowry (1820) once much heard in camp-meetings, but it is a pedestrian tune with too many quavers, and a headlong tempo.

Bradbury's “Jazer,” in three-four time, is a melody with modulations, though more sympathetic, but it is hard to divorce the hymn from its long-time consort, old “Arlington.” It has the accent of its sincerity, and the breath of its devotion.

This hymn of Charles Wesley is always designated now by the above line, the first of thesecondstanza as originally written. It is said to have been composed at Land's End, in Cornwall, with the British Channel and the broad Atlantic in view and surging on both sides around a “narrow neck of land.”

Lo! on a narrow neck of land,Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand,Secure, insensible:A point of time, a moment's space,Removes me to that heavenly place,Or shuts me up in hell.O God, mine inmost soul convert,And deeply on my thoughtful heartEternal things impress:Give me to feel their solemn weight,149 /119And tremble on the brink of fate,And wake to righteousness.

Lo! on a narrow neck of land,Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand,Secure, insensible:A point of time, a moment's space,Removes me to that heavenly place,Or shuts me up in hell.

Lo! on a narrow neck of land,

Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand,

Secure, insensible:

A point of time, a moment's space,

Removes me to that heavenly place,

Or shuts me up in hell.

O God, mine inmost soul convert,And deeply on my thoughtful heartEternal things impress:Give me to feel their solemn weight,149 /119And tremble on the brink of fate,And wake to righteousness.

O God, mine inmost soul convert,

And deeply on my thoughtful heart

Eternal things impress:

Give me to feel their solemn weight,

And tremble on the brink of fate,

And wake to righteousness.

The preachers and poets of the great spiritual movement of the eighteenth century in England abated nothing in the candor of their words. The terrible earnestness of conviction tipped their tongues and pens with fire.

Lady Huntingdon would have lent “Meribah” gladly to this hymn, but Mason was not yet born. Many times it has been borrowed for Wesley's words since it came to its own, and the spirit of the pious Countess has doubtless approved the loan. It is rich enough to furnish forth her own lyric and more than one other of like matter and metre.

The muscular music of “Ganges” has sometimes carried the hymn, and there are those who think its thunder is not a whit more Hebraic than the words require.

Few hymns have been more frequently sung in prayer-meetings and religious assemblies during the last hundred and fifty years. Its author, Joseph Hart, spoke what he knew and testified what he felt. Born in London, 1712, and liberally educated, he was in his young manhood very religious, but he went so far astray as to indulge in evil practices, and150 /120even published writings, both original and translated, against Christianity and religion of any kind. But he could not drink at the Dead Sea and live. The apples of Sodom sickened him. Conscience asserted itself, and the pangs of remorse nearly drove him to despair till he turned back to the source he had forsaken. He alludes to this experience in the lines—

Let not conscience make you linger,Nor of fitness fondly dream;All the fitness He requirethIs to feel your need of Him.

Let not conscience make you linger,

Nor of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness He requireth

Is to feel your need of Him.

During Passion Week, 1767, he had an amazing view of the sufferings of Christ, under the stress of which his heart was changed. In the joy of this experience he wrote—

Come ye sinners poor and needy,

—and—

Come all ye chosen saints of God.

Probably no two hymn-lines have been oftener repeated than—

If you tarry till you're betterYou will never come at all.

If you tarry till you're better

You will never come at all.

The complete form of the original stanzas is:

Come ye sinners poor and needy,Weak and wounded, sick and sore;Jesus ready stands to save you,Full of pity, love and power.He is able,He is willing; doubt no more.

Come ye sinners poor and needy,

Weak and wounded, sick and sore;

Jesus ready stands to save you,

Full of pity, love and power.

He is able,

He is willing; doubt no more.

The whole hymn—ten stanzas—is not sung now as one, but two, the second division beginning with the line—

Come ye weary, heavy laden.

Rev. Joseph Hart became minister of Jewin St. Congregational Chapel, London, about 1760, where he labored till his death, May 24, 1768.

A revival song by Jeremiah Ingalls (1764–1828), written about 1804, with an easy, popular swing and asforzandochorus—

Turn to the Lord and seek salvation,

—monopolized this hymn for a good many years. The tunes commonly assigned to it have since been “Greenville” and Von Weber's “Wilmot,” in which last it is now more generally sung—dropping the echo lines at the end of each stanza.

Carl Maria Von Weber, son of a roving musician, was born in Eutin, Germany, 1786. He developed no remarkable genius till he was about twenty years old, though being a fine vocalist, his singing brought him popularity and gain; but in 1806 he nearly lost his voice by accidently drinking nitric acid. He was for several years private secretary to Duke Ludwig at Stuttgart, and in 1813 Chapel-Master at Prague, from which place he went to Dresden in 1817 as Musik-Director.

Von Weber's Korner songs won the hearts of all Germany; and his immortal “Der Freischutz”152 /122(the Free Archer), and numerous tender melodies like the airs to “John Anderson, my Jo” and “O Poortith Cauld” have gone to all civilized nations. No other composer had such feeling for beauty of sound.

This beloved musician was physically frail and delicate, and died of untimely decline, during a visit to London in 1826.

Sometimes printed “O happysouls.” This poetical and flowing hymn seems to have been forgotten in the making up of most modern church hymnals. Hymns on heaven and heavenly joys abound in embarrassing numbers, but it is difficult to understand why this beautiful lyric should beuniversallyneglected. It was written probably about 1760, by Rev. John Berridge, from the text, “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord,”

The first line of the second stanza—

Released from sorrow, toil and strife,

—has been tinkered in some of the older hymn-books, where it is found to read—,

Released from sorrows toil andgrief,

—not only committing a tautology, but destroying the perfect rhyme with “life” in the next line. The whole hymn, too, has been much altered by substituted words and shifted lines, though not generally to the serious detriment of its meaning and music.

The Rev. John Berridge—friend of the Wesleys, Whitefield, and Lady Huntingdon—was an eccentric but very worthy and spiritual minister, born the son of a farmer, in Kingston, Nottinghamshire, Eng., Mar. 1, 1716. He studied at Cambridge, and was ordained curate of Stapleford and subsequently located as vicar of Everton, 1775. He died Jan. 22, 1793. He loved to preach, and he was determined that his tombstone should preach after his voice was still. His epitaph, composed by himself, is both a testimony and a memoir:

“Here lie the earthly remains of John Berridge, late vicar of Everton, and an itinerant servant of Jesus Christ, who loved his Master and His work, and after running His errands many years, was called up to wait on Him above.“Reader, art thou born again?“No salvation without the new birth.“I was born in sin, February, 1716.“Remained ignorant of my fallen state till 1730.“Lived proudly on faith and works for salvation till 1751.“Admitted to Everton vicarage, 1755.“Fled to Jesus alone for refuge, 1756.“Fell asleep in Jesus Christ,—” (1793.)

“Reader, art thou born again?

“No salvation without the new birth.

“I was born in sin, February, 1716.

“Remained ignorant of my fallen state till 1730.

“Lived proudly on faith and works for salvation till 1751.

“Admitted to Everton vicarage, 1755.

“Fled to Jesus alone for refuge, 1756.

“Fell asleep in Jesus Christ,—” (1793.)

The once popular score that easily made the hymn a favorite, was “Salem,” in the oldPsalmodist. It still appears in some note-books, though the name of its composer is uncertain. Its notes (in 6-8 time) succeed each other in syllabic modulations that give a soft dactylic accent to the measure and a wavy current to the lines:

O happy saints that dwell in light,And walk with Jesus clothed in white,Safe landed on that peaceful shore,Where pilgrims meet to part no more:Released from sorrow, toil and strife,Death was the gate to endless life,And now they range the heavenly plainsAnd sing His love in melting strains.

O happy saints that dwell in light,And walk with Jesus clothed in white,Safe landed on that peaceful shore,Where pilgrims meet to part no more:

O happy saints that dwell in light,

And walk with Jesus clothed in white,

Safe landed on that peaceful shore,

Where pilgrims meet to part no more:

Released from sorrow, toil and strife,Death was the gate to endless life,And now they range the heavenly plainsAnd sing His love in melting strains.

Released from sorrow, toil and strife,

Death was the gate to endless life,

And now they range the heavenly plains

And sing His love in melting strains.

Another version reads:

——and welcome to an endless life,Their souls have now begun to proveThe height and depth of Jesus' love.

——and welcome to an endless life,

Their souls have now begun to prove

The height and depth of Jesus' love.

The author, John Cennick, like Joseph Hart, was led to Christ after a reckless boyhood and youth, by the work of the Divine Spirit in his soul, independent of any direct outward influence. Sickened of his cards, novels, and playhouse pleasures, he had begun a sort of mechanical reform, when one day, walking in the streets of London, he suddenly seemed to hear the text spoken “I am thy salvation!” His consecration began at that moment.

He studied for the ministry, and became a preacher, first under direction of the Wesleys, then under Whitefield, but afterwards joined the Moravians, or “Brethren.” He was born at Reading, Derbyshire, Eng., Dec. 12, 1718,and died in London, July 4, 1755.

The word “Rhine” (in some collections—in others “Emmons”) names a revival tune once so linked with this hymn and so well known that few religious people now past middle life could enjoy singing it to any other. With a compass one note beyond an octave and a third, it utters every line with a clear, bold gladness sure to infect a meeting with its own spiritual fervor.

Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb,I love to hear of Thee;No music like Thy charming name,Nor half so sweet can be.

Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb,

I love to hear of Thee;

No music like Thy charming name,

Nor half so sweet can be.

The composer of the bright legato melody just described was Frederick Burgmüller, a young German musician, born in 1804. He was a remarkable genius, both in composition and execution, but his health was frail, and he did not live to fulfil the rich possibilities that lay within him. He died in 1824—only twenty years old. The tune “Rhine” (“Emmons”) is from one of his marches.

Helen Maria Williams wrote this sweet hymn, probably about the year 1800. She was a brilliant woman, better known in literary society for her political verses and essays than by her hymns; but the hymn here noted bears sufficient witness to her deep religious feeling:

While Thee I seek, Protecting Power,Be my vain wishes stilled,And may this consecrated hourWith better hopes be filled.Thy love the power of thought bestowed;To Thee my thoughts would soar,Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed,That mercy I adore.

While Thee I seek, Protecting Power,

Be my vain wishes stilled,

And may this consecrated hour

With better hopes be filled.

Thy love the power of thought bestowed;

To Thee my thoughts would soar,

Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed,

That mercy I adore.

Miss Williams was born in the north of England, Nov. 30, 1762, but spent much of her life in London, and in Paris, where she died, Dec. 14, 1827.

Wedded so many years to the gentle, flowing music of Pleyel's “Brattle Street,” few lovers of the hymn recall its words without the melody of that emotional choral.

The plain psalm-tune, “Simpson,” by Louis Spohr, divides the stanzas into quatrains.

This hymn, by Cennick, was familiarized to the public more than two generations ago by its revival tune, sometimes called “Duane Street,” long-metredouble. It is staffed in various keys, but its movement is full of life and emphasis, and its melody is contagious. The piece was composed by Rev. George Coles, in 1835.

The fact that this hymn of Cennick with Coles's tune appears in theNew Methodist Hymnalindicates the survival of both in modern favor.

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