CHAPTER V.

If I were a voice, an immortal voice,I would fly the earth around:And wherever man to his idols bowed,I'd publish in notes both long and loudThe Gospel's joyful sound.I would fly, I would fly, on the wings of day,Proclaiming peace on my world-wide way,Bidding the saddened earth rejoice—If I were a voice, an immortal voice,I would fly, I would fly,I would fly on the wings of day.Charles Mackay, the poet, was born in Perth, Scotland, 1814, and educated in London and Brussels; was engaged in editorial work on theLondon Morning ChronicleandGlasgow Argus, and during the Corn Law agitation wrote popular songs, notably “The Voice of the Crowd” and “There's a Good Time Coming,” which (like the far inferior poetry of Ebenezer Elliot) won the lasting love of the masses for a superior man who could be “The People's Singer and Friend.” He came to the United States in 1857 as a lecturer, and again in 1862, remaining three years as war correspondent of theLondon Times. Glasgow University made him LL.D. in 1847. His numerous songs and poems were collected in a London edition. Died Dec. 24, 1889.Isaac Baker Woodbury was born in Beverly, Mass., 1819, and rose from the station of a blacksmith's apprentice to be a tone-teacher in the church. He educated himself in Europe, returned222 /184and sang his life songs, and died in 1858 at the age of thirty-nine.A tune preferred by many as the finer music is the one written to the words by Mr. Sankey,Sacred Songs, No. 2.“SPEED AWAY! SPEED AWAY!”This inspiriting song of farewell to departing missionaries was written in 1890 to Woodbury's appropriate popular melody by Fanny J. Crosby, at the request of Ira D. Sankey. The key-word and refrain are adapted from the original song by Woodbury (1848), but in substance and language the three hymn-stanzas are the new and independent work of this later writer.Speed away! speed away on your mission of light,To the lands that are lying in darkness and night;'Tis the Master's command; go ye forth in His name,The wonderful gospel of Jesus proclaim;Take your lives in your hand, to the work while 'tis day,Speed away! speed away! speed away!Speed away, speed away with the life-giving Word,To the nations that know not the voice of the Lord;Take the wings of the morning and fly o'er the wave,In the strength of your Master the lost ones to save;He is calling once more, not a moment's delay,Speed away! speed away! speed away!Speed away, speed away with the message of rest,To the souls by the tempter in bondage oppressed;For the Saviour has purchased their ransom from sin,223 /185And the banquet is ready. O gather them in;To the rescue make haste, there's no time for delay,Speed away! speed away! speed away!“ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS!”Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould, the author of this rousing hymn of Christian warfare, a rector of the Established Church of England and a writer of note, was born at Exeter, Eng., Jan. 28, 1834. Educated at Clare College, Cambridge, he entered the service of the church, and was appointed Rector of East Mersea, Essex, in 1871. He was the author of several hymns, original and translated, and introduced into England from Flanders, numbers of carols with charming old Christmas music. The “Christian Soldiers” hymn is one of his (original) processionals, and the most inspiring.Onward, Christian soldiers,Marching as to war,With the cross of JesusGoing on before.Christ the Royal MasterLeads against the foe;Forward into battle,See, His banners go!Onward, Christian soldiers, etc.* * * * * *Like a mighty armyMoves the Church of God;Brothers, we are treadingWhere the saints have trod;224 /186We are not divided,All one body we,One in hope, in doctrine,One in charity.THE TUNE.Sir Arthur Seymour Sullivan, Doctor of Music, who wrote the melody for this hymn, was born in London, May 13, 1842. He gained the Mendelssohn Scholarship at the Royal Academy of Music, and also at the Conservatory of Leipsic. He was a fertile genius, and his compositions included operettas, symphonies, overtures, anthems, hymn-tunes, an oratorio (“The Prodigal Son”), and almost every variety of tone production, vocal and instrumental. Queen Victoria knighted him in 1883.The grand rhythm of “Onward, Christian Soldiers”—hymn and tune—is irresistible whether in band march or congregational worship. Sir Arthur died in London, November 22, 1900.“O CHURCH ARISE AND SING”Designed originally for children's voices, the hymn of five stanzas beginning with this line was written by Hezekiah Butterworth, author of theStory of the Hymns(1875),Storyof theTunes(1890), and many popular books of historic interest for the young, the most widely read of which isZigzag Journeys in Many Lands. He225 /187also composed and published many poems and hymns. He was born in Warren, R.I., Dec. 22, 1839, and for twenty-five years was connected with theYouth's Companionas regular contributor and member of its editorial staff. He died in Warren, R.I., Sept. 5, 1905.The hymn “O Church, arise” was sung in Mason's tune of “Dort” until Prof. Case wrote a melody for it, when it took the name of the “Convention Hymn.”Professor Charles Clinton Case, music composer and teacher, was born in Linesville, Pa., June, 1843. Was a pupil of George F. Root and pursued musical study in Chicago, Ill., Ashland, O., and South Bend, Ind. He was associated with Root, McGranahan, and others in making secular and church music books, and later with D.L. Moody in evangelical work.As author and compiler he has published numerous works, among themChurch Anthems, theHarvest SongandCase's Chorus Collection.O Church! arise and singThe triumphs of your King,Whose reign is love;Sing your enlarged desires,That conquering faith inspires,Renew your signal fires,And forward move!* * * * * *Beneath the glowing archThe ransomed armies march,We follow on;226 /188Lead on, O cross of Light,From conquering height to height,And add new victories brightTo triumphs won!“THE BANNER OF IMMANUEL!”This hymn, set to music and copyrighted in Buffalo as a floating waif of verse by an unknown author, and used in Sunday-school work, first appeared in Dr. F.N. Peloubet'sSelect Songs(Biglow and Main, 1884) with a tune by Rev. George Phipps.The hymn was written by Rev. Theron Brown, a Baptist minister, who was pastor (1859–1870) of churches in South Framingham and Canton, Mass. He was born in Willimantic, Ct., April 29, 1832.Retired from pastoral work, owing to vocal disability, he has held contributory and editorial relations with theYouth's Companionfor more than forty years, for the last twenty years a member of the office staff.Between 1880 and 1890 he contributed hymns more or less regularly to the quartet and antiphonal chorus service at the Ruggles St. Church, Boston, the “Banner of Immanuel” being one of the number.The Blount Family,Nameless Women of the Bible,Life Songs(a volume of poems), and several books for boys, are among his published works.The banner of Immanuel! beneath its glorious foldsFor life or death to serve and fight we pledge our loyal souls.227 /189No other flag such honor boasts, or bears so proud a name,And far its red-cross signal flies as flies the lightning's flame.* * * * * *Salvation by the blood of Christ! the shouts of triumph ring;No other watchword leads the host that serves so grand a King.Then rally, soldiers of the Cross! Keep every fold unfurled,And by Redemption's holy sign we'll conquer all the world.The Rev. George Phipps, composer of the tune, “Immanuel's Banner,” was born in Franklin, Mass., Dec. 11, 1838, was graduated at Amherst College, 1862, and at Andover Theological Seminary, 1865. Settled as pastor of the Congregational Church in Wellesley, Mass., ten years, and at Newton Highlands fifteen years.He has written many Sunday-school melodies, notably the music to “My Saviour Keeps Me Company.”228 /190CHAPTER V.HYMNS OF SUFFERING AND TRUST.One inspiring chapter in the compensations of life is the record of immortal verses that were sorrow-born. It tells us in the most affecting way how affliction refines the spirit and “the agonizing throes of thought bring forth glory.” Often a broken life has produced a single hymn. It took the long living under trial to shape the supreme experience.—The anguish of the singerMade the sweetness of the song.Indeed, if there had been no sorrow there would have been no song.“MY LORD, HOW FULL OF SWEET CONTENT.”Jeanne M.B. de la Mothe—known always as Madame Guyon—the lady who wrote these words in exile, probably sang more “songs in the night” than any hymn-writer outside of the Dark Ages. She was born at Montargis, France, in 1648, and231 /191died in her seventieth year, 1771, in the ancient city of Blois, on the Loire.A convent-educated girl of high family, a wife at the age of fifteen, and a widow at twenty-eight, her early piety, ridiculed in the dazzling but corrupt society of Louis XIV's time, blossomed through a long life in religious ministries and flowers of sacred poetry.She became a mystic, and her bookSpiritual Torrentsindicates the impetuous ardors of her soul. It was the way Divine Love came to her. She was the incarnation of the spiritualized Book of Canticles. An induction to these intense subjective visions and raptures had been the remark of a pious old Franciscan father, “Seek God in your heart, and you will find Him.”She began to teach as well as enjoy the new light so different from the glitter of the traditional worship. But her “aggressive holiness” was obnoxious to the established Church. “Quietism” was the brand set upon her written works and the offense that was punished in her person. Bossuet, the king of preachers, was her great adversary. The saintly Fenelon was her friend, but he could not shield her. She was shut up like a lunatic in prison after prison, till, after four years of dungeon life in the Bastile, expecting every hour to be executed for heresy, she was banished to a distant province to end her days.Question as we may the usefulness of her pietistic books, the visions of her excessively exalted232 /192moods, and the passionate, almost erotic phraseology of herContemplations, Madame Guyon has held the world's admiration for her martyr spirit, and even her love-flights of devotion in poetry and prose do not conceal the angel that walked in the flame.Today, when religious persecution is unknown, we can but dimly understand the perfect triumph of her superior soul under suffering and the transports of her utter absorption in God that could make the stones of her dungeon “look like jewels.” When we emulate a faith like hers—with all the weight of absolute certainty in it—we can sing her hymn:My Lord, how full of sweet contentI pass my years of banishment.Where'er I dwell, I dwell with Thee,In heaven or earth, or on the sea.To me remains nor place nor time:My country is in every clime;I can be calm and free from careOn any shore, since God is there.And could a dearervade mecumenrich a Christian's outfit than these lines treasured in memory?While place we seek or place we shun,The soul finds happiness in none;But, with a God to guide our way,'Tis equal joy to go or stay.Cowper, and also Dr. Thomas Upham, translated (from the French) the religious poems of Madame Guyon. This hymn is Cowper's translation.233 /193THE TUNE.A gentle and sympathetic melody entitled “Alsace” well represents the temper of the words—and in name links the nationalities of writer and composer. It is a choral arranged from a sonata of the great Ludwig von Beethoven, born in Bonn, Germany, 1770, and died in Vienna, Mar. 1827. Like the author of the hymn he felt the hand of affliction, becoming totally deaf soon after his fortieth year. But, in spite of the privation, he kept on writing sublime and exquisite strains that only his soul could hear. His fame rests upon his oratorio, “The Mount of Olives,” the opera of “Fidelio” and his nine wonderful “Symphonies.”“NO CHANGE IN TIME SHALL EVER SHOCK.”Altered to common metre from the awkward long metre of Tate and Brady, the three or four stanzas found in earlier hymnals are part of their version (probably Tate's) of the 31st Psalm—and it is worth calling to mind here that there is no hymn treasury so rich in tuneful faith and reliance upon God in trouble as the Book of Psalms. This feeling of the Hebrew poet was never better expressed (we might say, translated) in English than by the writer of this single verse—No change of time shall ever shockMy trust, O Lord, in Thee,234 /194For Thou hast always been my Rock,A sure defense to me.THE TUNE.The sweet, tranquil choral long ago wedded to this hymn is lost from the church collections, and its very name forgotten. In fact the hymn itself is now seldom seen. If it ever comes back, old “Dundee” (Guillaume Franc 1500–1570) will sing for it, or some new composer may rise up to put the spirit of the psalm into inspired notes.“WHY DO WE MOURN DEPARTED FRIENDS?”This hymn of holy comfort, by Dr. Watts, was long associated with a remarkable tune in C minor, “a queer medley of melody” as Lowell Mason called it, still familiar to many old people as “China.” It was composed by Timothy Swan when he was about twenty-six years of age (1784) and published in 1801 in theNew England Harmony.It may have sounded consolatory to mature mourners, singers and hearers in the days when religious emotion habitually took a sad key, but its wild and thrilling chords made children weep. The tune is long out of use—though, strange to say, one of the most recent hymnals prints the hymn with anew minortune.Why do we mourn departed friends,Or shake at death's alarms?235 /195'Tis but the voice that Jesus sendsTo call them to His arms.Are we not tending upward tooAs fast as time can move?Nor should we wish the hours more slowTo keep us from our Love.The graves of all His saints He blessedAnd softened every bed:Where should the dying members restBut with their dying Head?Timothy Swan was born in Worcester, Mass., July 23, 1758, and died in Suffield, Ct., July 23, 1842. He was a self-taught musician, his only “course of study” lasting three weeks,—in a country singing school at Groton. When sixteen years old he went to Northfield, Mass., and learned the hatter's trade, and while at work began to practice making psalm-tunes. “Montague,” in two parts, was his first achievement. From that time for thirty years, mostly spent in Suffield, Ct., he wrote and taught music while supporting himself by his trade. Many of his tunes were published by himself, and had a wide currency a century ago.Swan was a genius in his way, and it was a true comment on his work that “his tunes were remarkable for their originality as well as singularity—unlike any other melodies.” “China,” his masterpiece, will be long kept track of as a curio, and preserved in replicates of old psalmody to illustrate self-culture in the art of song. But the major236 /196mode will replace the minor when tender voices on burial days sing—Why do we mourn departed friends?Another hymn of Watts,—God is the refuge of His saintsWhen storms of sharp distress invade,—sung to Lowell Mason's liquid tune of “Ward,” and the priceless stanza,—Jesus can make a dying bedFeel soft as downy pillows are,doubly prove the claim of the Southampton bard to a foremost place with the song-preachers of Christian trust.The psalm (Amsterdam version), “God is the refuge,” etc., is said to have been sung by John Howland in the shallop of the Mayflower when an attempt was made to effect a landing in spite of tempestuous weather. A tradition of this had doubtless reached Mrs. Hemans when she wrote—Amid the storm they sang, etc.“FATHER, WHATE'ER OF EARTHLY BLISS.”This hymn had originally ten stanzas, of which the three usually sung are the three last. The above line is the first of the eighth stanza, altered from—And O, whate'er of earthly bliss.237 /197Probably for more than a century the familiar surname “Steele” attached to this and many other hymns in the hymn-books conveyed to the general public no hint of a mind and hand more feminine than Cowper's or Montgomery's. Even intelligent people, who had chanced upon sundry copies ofThe Spectator, somehow fell into the habit of putting “Steele” and “Addison” in the same category of hymn names, and Sir Richard Steele got a credit he never sought. But since stories of the hymns began to be published—and made the subject of evening talks in church conference rooms—many have learned what “Steele” in the hymn-book means. It introduces us now to a very retiring English lady, Miss Anna Steele, a Baptist minister's daughter. She was born in 1706, at Broughton, Hampshire, in her father's parsonage, and in her father's parsonage she spent her life, dying there Nov. 1778.She was many years a severe sufferer from bodily illness, and a lasting grief of mind and heart was the loss of her intended husband, who was drowned the day before their appointed wedding. It is said that this hymn was written under the recent sorrow of that loss.In 1760 and 1780 volumes of her works in verse and prose were published with her name, “Theodosia,” and reprinted in 1863 as “Hymns, Psalms, and Poems, by Anna Steele.” The hymn “Father, whate'er,” etc., is estimated as her best, though some rank it only next to her—238 /198Dear Refuge of my weary soul.Other more or less well-known hymns of this devout and loving writer are,—Lord, how mysterious are Thy ways,O Thou whose tender mercy hears,Thou lovely Source of true delight,Alas, what hourly dangers rise,So fades the lovely blooming flower.—to a stanza of which latter the world owes the tune of “Federal St.”THE TUNE.The true musical mate of the sweet hymn-prayer came to it probably about the time of its hundredth birthday; but it came to stay. Lowell Mason's “Naomi” blends with it like a symphony of nature.Father, whate'er of earthly blissThy sovereign will denies,Accepted at Thy throne of graceLet this petition rise.Give me a calm and thankful heartFrom every murmer free.The blessings of Thy grace impart,And make me live to Thee.“GUIDE ME, O THOU GREAT JEHOVAH.”This great hymn has a double claim on the name of Williams. We do not have it exactly in its239 /199original form as written by Rev. William Williams, “The Watts of Wales,” familiarly known as “Williams of Pantycelyn.” His fellow countryman and contemporary, Rev. Peter Williams, or “Williams of Carmarthen,” who translated it from Welsh into English (1771) made alterations and substitutions in the hymn with the result that only the first stanza belongs indisputably to Williams of Pantycelyn, the others being Peter's own or the joint production of the two. As the former, however, is said to have approved and revised the English translation, we may suppose the hymn retained the name of its original author by mutual consent.Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah,Pilgrim through this barren land.I am weak, but Thou art mighty,Hold me by Thy powerful hand;Bread of heaven,Feed me till I want no more.Open Thou the crystal FountainWhence the healing streams do flow,Let the fiery cloudy pillarLead me all my journey through.Strong Deliverer,Be Thou still my Strength and Shield!When I tread the verge of JordanBid my anxious fears subside;Death of death, and hell's destruction,Land me safe on Canaan's side.Songs of praisesI will ever give to Thee.240 /200Musing on my habitation,Musing on my heavenly home,Fills my heart with holy longing;Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come.Vanity is all I see,Lord, I long to be with Thee.The second and third stanzas have not escaped the touch of critical editors. The line,—Whence the healing streams do flow—becomes,—Whence the healing waters flow,—with which alteration there is no fault to find except that it is needless, and obliterates the ancient mark. But the third stanza, besides losing its second line for—Bid the swelling stream divide,—is weakened by a more needless substitution. Its original third line—Death of death, and hell's destruction,—is exchanged for the commonplace—Bear me through the swelling current.That is modern taste; but when modern taste meddles with a stalwart old hymn it is sometimes more nice than wise.It is probable that the famous hymn was sung in America before it obtained a European241 /201reputation. Its history is as follows: Lady Huntingdon having read one of Williams' books with much spiritual satisfaction, persuaded him to prepare a collection of hymns, to be called theGloria in Excelsis, for special use in Mr. Whitefield's Orphans' House in America. In this collection appeared the original stanzas of “Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah.” In 1774, two years after its publication in theGloria in Excelsis, it was republished in England in Mr. Whitefield's collections of hymns.The Rev. Peter Williams was born in the parish of Llansadurnen, Carmarthenshire, Wales, Jan. 7, 1722, and was educated in Carmarthen College. He was ordained in the Established Church and appointed to a curacy, but in 1748 joined the Calvinistic Methodists. He was an Independent of the Independents however, and preached where ever he chose. Finally he built a chapel for himself on his paternal estate, where he ministered during the rest of his life. Died Aug. 8, 1796.THE TUNE.If “Sardius,” the splendid old choral (triple time) everywhere identified with the hymn, be not its original music, its age at least entitles it to its high partnership.The Sacred Lyre(1858) ascribes it to Ludovic Nicholson, of Paisley, Scotland, violinist and amateur composer, born 1770; died 1852; but this is not beyond dispute. Of several242 /202names one more confidently referred to as its author is F.H. Barthelemon (1741–1808).“PEACE, TROUBLED SOUL”Is the brave faith-song of a Christian under deep but blameless humiliation—Sir Walter Shirley.** Seepage 127THE TUNE.Apparently the favorite in several (not recent) hymnals for the subdued but confident spirit of this hymn of Sir Walter Shirley is Mazzinghi's “Palestine,” appearing with various tone-signatures in different books. The treble and alto lead in a sweet duet with slur-flights, like an obligato to the bass and tenor. The melody needs rich and cultured voices, and is unsuited for congregational singing. So, perhaps, is the hymn itself.Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive moanHath taught these rocks the notes of woe;Cease thy complaint—suppress thy groan,And let thy tears forget to flow;Behold the precious balm is found,To lull thy pain, to heal thy wound.Come, freely come, by sin oppressed,Unburden here thy weighty load;Here find thy refuge and thy rest,And trust the mercy of thy God.Thy God's thy Saviour—glorious word!For ever love and praise the Lord.243 /203As now sung the word “scenes” is substituted for “rocks” in the second line, eliminating the poetry. Rocks give anecho; and the vivid thought in the author's mind is flattened to an unmeaning generality.Count Joseph Mazzinghi, son of Tommasso Mazzinghi, a Corsican musician, was born in London, 1765. He was a boy of precocious talent. When only ten years of age he was appointed organist of the Portuguese Chapel, and when nineteen years old was made musical director and composer at the King's Theatre. For many years he held the honor of Music Master to the Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, and his compositions were almost numberless. Some of his songs and glees that caught the popular fancy are still remembered in England, as “The Turnpike Gate,” “The Exile,” and the rustic duet, “When a Little Farm We Keep.”Of sacred music he composed only one mass and six hymn-tunes, of which latter “Palestine” is one. Mazzinghi died in 1844, in his eightieth year.“BEGONE UNBELIEF, MY SAVIOUR IS NEAR.”The Rev. John Newton, author of this hymn, was born in London, July 24, 1725. The son of a sea-captain, he became a sailor, and for several years led a reckless life. Converted, he took holy orders and was settled as curate of Olney, Buckinghamshire, and afterwards Rector of St. Mary of244 /204Woolnoth, London, where he died, Dec. 21, 1807. It was while living at Olney that he and Cowper wrote and published theOlney Hymns. His defiance to doubt in these lines is the blunt utterance of a sailor rather than the song of a poet:Begone, unbelief, my Saviour is near,And for my relief will surely appear.By prayer let me wrestle and He will perform;With Christ in the vessel I smile at the storm.THE TUNEOld “Hanover,” by William Croft (1677–1727), carries Newton's hymn successfully, but Joseph Haydn's choral of “Lyons” is more familiar—and better music.“Hanover” often accompanies Charles Wesley's lyric,—Ye servants of God, your Master proclaim.“HOW FIRM A FOUNDATION.”The question of the author of this hymn is treated at length in Dr. Louis F. Benson'sStudies of Familiar Hymns. The utmost that need to be said here is that two of the most thorough and indefatigable hymn-chasers, Dr. John Julian and Rev. H.L. Hastings, working independently of each other, found evidence fixing the authorship with strong probability upon Robert Keene, a precentor in Dr. John Rippon's church. Dr. Rippon was pastor of a Baptist Church in London from245 /2051773 to 1836, and in 1787 he published a song-manual calledA Selection of Hymns from the Best Authors,etc., in which “How Firm a Foundation” appears as a new piece, with the signature “K——.”The popularity of the hymn in America has been remarkable, and promises to continue. Indeed, there are few more reviving or more spiritually helpful. It is too familiar to need quotation. But one cannot suppress the last stanza, with its powerful and affecting emphasis on the Divine promise—The soul that on Jesus has leaned for reposeI will not, I will not, desert to his foes;That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,I'll never, no never, no never forsake.THE TUNE.The grand harmony of “Portuguese Hymn” has always been identified with this song of trust.One opinion of the date of the music writes it “about 1780.” Since the habit of crediting it to John Reading (1677–1764) has been discontinued, it has been in several hymnals ascribed to Marco Portogallo (Mark, the Portuguese), a musician born in Lisbon, 1763, who became a composer of operas in Italy, but was made Chapel-Master to the Portuguese King. In 1807, when Napoleon invaded the Peninsula and dethroned the royal house of Braganza, Old King John VI. fled to Brazil and took Marco with him, where he lived till 1815, but returned and died in Italy, in 1830. Such is the story, and it is all true, only the man's name was246 /206Simao, instead of Marco.Grove's Dictionaryappends to Simao's biography the single sentence, “His brother wrote for the church.” That the Brazilian episode may have been connected with this brother's history by a confusion of names, is imaginable, but it is not known that the brother's name was Marco.On the whole, this account of the authorship of the “Portuguese Hymn”—originally written for the old Christmas church song “Adeste Fideles”—is late and uncertain. Heard (perhaps for the first time) in the Portuguese Chapel, London, it was given the name which still clings to it. If proofs of its Portuguese origin exist, they may yet be found.“How Firm a Foundation” was the favorite of Deborah Jackson, President Andrew Jackson's beloved wife, and on his death-bed the warrior and statesman called for it. It was the favorite of Gen. Robert E. Lee, and was sung at his funeral. The American love and familiar preference for the remarkable hymn was never more strikingly illustrated than when on Christmas Eve, 1898, a whole corps of the United States army Northern and Southern, encamped on the Quemados hills, near Havana, took up the sacred tune and words—“Fear not, I am with thee, O be not dismayed.”Lieut. Col. Curtis Guild (since Governor Guild of Massachusetts) related the story in the Sunday School Times for Dec. 7, 1901, and Dr. Benson quotes it in his book.249 /207“WHILE THEE I SEEK, PROTECTING POWER.”Miss Helen Maria Williams, who wrote this gentle hymn of confidence, in 1786, was born in the north of England in 1762. When but a girl she won reputation by her brilliant literary talents and a mental grasp and vigor that led her, like Gail Hamilton, “to discuss public affairs, besides clothing bright fancies and devout thoughts in graceful verse.” Most of her life was spent in London, and in Paris, where she died, Dec. 14, 1827.While Thee I seek, Protecting PowerBe my vain wishes stilled,And may this consecrated hourWith better hopes be filled:* * * * * *When gladness wings my favored hour,Thy love my thoughts shall fill,Resigned where storms of sorrow lowerMy soul shall meet Thy will.My lifted eye without a tearThe gathering storm shall see:My steadfast heart shall know no fear:My heart will rest on Thee.THE TUNES.Old “Norwich,” fromDay's Psalter, and “Simpson,” adapted from Louis Spohr, are found with the hymn in several later manuals. In the memories of older worshipers “Brattle-Street,” with its melodious choral and duet arranged from Pleyel250 /208by Lowell Mason, is inseparable from Miss Williams' words; but modern hymnals have dropped it, probably because too elaborate for average congregational use.Ignaz Joseph Pleyel was born June 1, 1757, at Ruppersthal, Lower Austria. He was thetwenty-fourthchild of a village schoolmaster. His early taste and talent for music procured him friends who paid for his education. Haydn became his master, and long afterwards spoke of him as his best and dearest pupil. Pleyel's work—entirely instrumental—was much admired by Mozart.During a few years spent in Italy, he composed the music of his best-known opera, “Iphigenia in Aulide,” and, besides the thirty-four books of his symphonies and chamber-pieces, the results of his prolific genius make a list too long to enumerate. Most of his life was spent in Paris, where he founded the (present) house of Pleyel and Wolfe, piano makers and sellers. He died in that city, Nov. 14, 1831.“COME UNTO ME.”Come unto Me, when shadows darkly gather,When the sad heart is weary and distressed,Seeking for comfort from your heavenly Father,Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.This sweet hymn, by Mrs. Catherine Esling, is well known to many thousands of mourners, as also is its equally sweet tune of “Henley,” by Lowell251 /209Mason. Melody and words melt together like harp and flute.Large are the mansions in thy Father's dwelling,Glad are the homes that sorrows never dim,Sweet are the harps in holy music swelling.Soft are the tones that raise the heavenly hymn.Mrs. Catherine Harbison Waterman Esling was born in Philadelphia, Apr. 12, 1812. A writer for many years under her maiden name, Waterman, she married, in 1840, Capt. George Esling, of the Merchant Marine, and lived in Rio Janeiro till her widowhood, in 1844.247 /opp 206John WesleyJohn WesleyHymnalJOHN WESLEY'S HYMN.How happy is the pilgrim's lot,How free from every anxious thought.These are the opening lines of “John Wesley's Hymn,” so called because his other hymns are mostly translations, and because of all his own it is the one commonly quoted and sung.John Wesley, the second son in the famous Epworth family of ministers, was a man who knew how to endure “hardness as a good soldier of Christ.” He was born June 27, 1703, and studied at Charterhouse, London, and at Christ Church, Oxford, becoming a Fellow of Lincoln College. After taking holy orders he went as a missionary to Georgia, U.S., in 1735, and on his return began his remarkable work in England, preaching a more spiritual type of religion, and252 /210awakening the whole kingdom with his revival fervor and his brother's kindling songs. The following paragraph from his itinerant life, gathered probably from a page of his own journals, gives a glimpse of what the founder of the great Methodist denomination did and suffered while carrying his Evangelical message from place to place.On February 17, 1746, when days were short and weather far from favorable, he set out on horseback from Bristol to Newcastle, a distance between three and four hundred miles. The journey occupied ten days. Brooks were swollen, and in some places the roads wereimpassable, obliging the itinerant to go round through the fields. At Aldrige Heath, in Staffordshire, the rain turned to snow, which the northerly wind drove against him, and by which he was soon crusted over from head to foot. At Leeds the mob followed him, and pelted him with whatever came to hand. He arrived at Newcastle, February 26, “free from every anxious thought,” and “every worldly fear.”How lightly he regarded hardship and molestation appears from his verses—Whatever molests or troubles life,When past, as nothing we esteem,And pain, like pleasure, is a dream.And that he actually enjoys the heroic freedom of a rough-rider missionary life is hinted in his hymn—Confined to neither court nor cell,His soul disdains on earth to dwell,He only sojourns here.253 /211God evidently built John Wesley fire-proof and water-proof with a view to precisely what he was to undertake and accomplish. His frame was vigorous, and his spirit unconquerable. Besides all this he had the divine gift of a religious faith that could move mountains and a confidence in his mission that became a second nature. No wonder he could suffer, andlast. The brave young man at thirty was the brave old man at nearly ninety. He died in London, March 2, 1791.Blest with the scorn of finite good,My soul is lightened of its loadAnd seeks the things above.There is my house and portion fair;My treasure and my heart are there,And my abiding home.For me my elder brethren stay,And angels beckon me away.And Jesus bids me come.THE TUNE.An air found in theRevivalist(1869), in sextuple time, that has the real camp-meeting swing, preserves the style of music in which the hymn was sung by the circuit-preachers and their congregations—ringing out the autobiographical verses with special unction. The favorite was—

If I were a voice, an immortal voice,

I would fly the earth around:

And wherever man to his idols bowed,

I'd publish in notes both long and loud

The Gospel's joyful sound.

I would fly, I would fly, on the wings of day,

Proclaiming peace on my world-wide way,

Bidding the saddened earth rejoice—

If I were a voice, an immortal voice,

I would fly, I would fly,

I would fly on the wings of day.

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

Isaac Baker Woodbury was born in Beverly, Mass., 1819, and rose from the station of a blacksmith's apprentice to be a tone-teacher in the church. He educated himself in Europe, returned222 /184and sang his life songs, and died in 1858 at the age of thirty-nine.

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

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

Speed away! speed away on your mission of light,To the lands that are lying in darkness and night;'Tis the Master's command; go ye forth in His name,The wonderful gospel of Jesus proclaim;Take your lives in your hand, to the work while 'tis day,Speed away! speed away! speed away!Speed away, speed away with the life-giving Word,To the nations that know not the voice of the Lord;Take the wings of the morning and fly o'er the wave,In the strength of your Master the lost ones to save;He is calling once more, not a moment's delay,Speed away! speed away! speed away!Speed away, speed away with the message of rest,To the souls by the tempter in bondage oppressed;For the Saviour has purchased their ransom from sin,223 /185And the banquet is ready. O gather them in;To the rescue make haste, there's no time for delay,Speed away! speed away! speed away!

Speed away! speed away on your mission of light,

To the lands that are lying in darkness and night;

'Tis the Master's command; go ye forth in His name,

The wonderful gospel of Jesus proclaim;

Take your lives in your hand, to the work while 'tis day,

Speed away! speed away! speed away!

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

Speed away, speed away with the life-giving Word,

To the nations that know not the voice of the Lord;

Take the wings of the morning and fly o'er the wave,

In the strength of your Master the lost ones to save;

He is calling once more, not a moment's delay,

Speed away! speed away! speed away!

Speed away, speed away with the message of rest,To the souls by the tempter in bondage oppressed;For the Saviour has purchased their ransom from sin,223 /185And the banquet is ready. O gather them in;To the rescue make haste, there's no time for delay,Speed away! speed away! speed away!

Speed away, speed away with the message of rest,

To the souls by the tempter in bondage oppressed;

For the Saviour has purchased their ransom from sin,

And the banquet is ready. O gather them in;

To the rescue make haste, there's no time for delay,

Speed away! speed away! speed away!

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

Onward, Christian soldiers,Marching as to war,With the cross of JesusGoing on before.Christ the Royal MasterLeads against the foe;Forward into battle,See, His banners go!Onward, Christian soldiers, etc.* * * * * *Like a mighty armyMoves the Church of God;Brothers, we are treadingWhere the saints have trod;224 /186We are not divided,All one body we,One in hope, in doctrine,One in charity.

Onward, Christian soldiers,

Marching as to war,

With the cross of Jesus

Going on before.

Christ the Royal Master

Leads against the foe;

Forward into battle,

See, His banners go!

Onward, Christian soldiers, etc.

* * * * * *

Like a mighty armyMoves the Church of God;Brothers, we are treadingWhere the saints have trod;224 /186We are not divided,All one body we,One in hope, in doctrine,One in charity.

Like a mighty army

Moves the Church of God;

Brothers, we are treading

Where the saints have trod;

We are not divided,

All one body we,

One in hope, in doctrine,

One in charity.

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

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

Designed originally for children's voices, the hymn of five stanzas beginning with this line was written by Hezekiah Butterworth, author of theStory of the Hymns(1875),Storyof theTunes(1890), and many popular books of historic interest for the young, the most widely read of which isZigzag Journeys in Many Lands. He225 /187also composed and published many poems and hymns. He was born in Warren, R.I., Dec. 22, 1839, and for twenty-five years was connected with theYouth's Companionas regular contributor and member of its editorial staff. He died in Warren, R.I., Sept. 5, 1905.

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

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

As author and compiler he has published numerous works, among themChurch Anthems, theHarvest SongandCase's Chorus Collection.

O Church! arise and singThe triumphs of your King,Whose reign is love;Sing your enlarged desires,That conquering faith inspires,Renew your signal fires,And forward move!* * * * * *Beneath the glowing archThe ransomed armies march,We follow on;226 /188Lead on, O cross of Light,From conquering height to height,And add new victories brightTo triumphs won!

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

O Church! arise and sing

The triumphs of your King,

Whose reign is love;

Sing your enlarged desires,

That conquering faith inspires,

Renew your signal fires,

And forward move!

* * * * * *

Beneath the glowing archThe ransomed armies march,We follow on;226 /188Lead on, O cross of Light,From conquering height to height,And add new victories brightTo triumphs won!

Beneath the glowing arch

The ransomed armies march,

We follow on;

Lead on, O cross of Light,

From conquering height to height,

And add new victories bright

To triumphs won!

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

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

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

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

The banner of Immanuel! beneath its glorious foldsFor life or death to serve and fight we pledge our loyal souls.227 /189No other flag such honor boasts, or bears so proud a name,And far its red-cross signal flies as flies the lightning's flame.* * * * * *Salvation by the blood of Christ! the shouts of triumph ring;No other watchword leads the host that serves so grand a King.Then rally, soldiers of the Cross! Keep every fold unfurled,And by Redemption's holy sign we'll conquer all the world.

The banner of Immanuel! beneath its glorious folds

For life or death to serve and fight we pledge our loyal souls.

No other flag such honor boasts, or bears so proud a name,

And far its red-cross signal flies as flies the lightning's flame.

* * * * * *

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

Salvation by the blood of Christ! the shouts of triumph ring;

No other watchword leads the host that serves so grand a King.

Then rally, soldiers of the Cross! Keep every fold unfurled,

And by Redemption's holy sign we'll conquer all the world.

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

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

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

—The anguish of the singerMade the sweetness of the song.

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

Jeanne M.B. de la Mothe—known always as Madame Guyon—the lady who wrote these words in exile, probably sang more “songs in the night” than any hymn-writer outside of the Dark Ages. She was born at Montargis, France, in 1648, and231 /191died in her seventieth year, 1771, in the ancient city of Blois, on the Loire.

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

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

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

Question as we may the usefulness of her pietistic books, the visions of her excessively exalted232 /192moods, and the passionate, almost erotic phraseology of herContemplations, Madame Guyon has held the world's admiration for her martyr spirit, and even her love-flights of devotion in poetry and prose do not conceal the angel that walked in the flame.

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

My Lord, how full of sweet contentI pass my years of banishment.Where'er I dwell, I dwell with Thee,In heaven or earth, or on the sea.To me remains nor place nor time:My country is in every clime;I can be calm and free from careOn any shore, since God is there.

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

My Lord, how full of sweet content

I pass my years of banishment.

Where'er I dwell, I dwell with Thee,

In heaven or earth, or on the sea.

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

To me remains nor place nor time:

My country is in every clime;

I can be calm and free from care

On any shore, since God is there.

And could a dearervade mecumenrich a Christian's outfit than these lines treasured in memory?

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

While place we seek or place we shun,

The soul finds happiness in none;

But, with a God to guide our way,

'Tis equal joy to go or stay.

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

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

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

No change of time shall ever shockMy trust, O Lord, in Thee,234 /194For Thou hast always been my Rock,A sure defense to me.

No change of time shall ever shock

My trust, O Lord, in Thee,

For Thou hast always been my Rock,

A sure defense to me.

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

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

Why do we mourn departed friends,Or shake at death's alarms?235 /195'Tis but the voice that Jesus sendsTo call them to His arms.Are we not tending upward tooAs fast as time can move?Nor should we wish the hours more slowTo keep us from our Love.The graves of all His saints He blessedAnd softened every bed:Where should the dying members restBut with their dying Head?

Why do we mourn departed friends,Or shake at death's alarms?235 /195'Tis but the voice that Jesus sendsTo call them to His arms.

Why do we mourn departed friends,

Or shake at death's alarms?

'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends

To call them to His arms.

Are we not tending upward tooAs fast as time can move?Nor should we wish the hours more slowTo keep us from our Love.

Are we not tending upward too

As fast as time can move?

Nor should we wish the hours more slow

To keep us from our Love.

The graves of all His saints He blessedAnd softened every bed:Where should the dying members restBut with their dying Head?

The graves of all His saints He blessed

And softened every bed:

Where should the dying members rest

But with their dying Head?

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

Swan was a genius in his way, and it was a true comment on his work that “his tunes were remarkable for their originality as well as singularity—unlike any other melodies.” “China,” his masterpiece, will be long kept track of as a curio, and preserved in replicates of old psalmody to illustrate self-culture in the art of song. But the major236 /196mode will replace the minor when tender voices on burial days sing—

Why do we mourn departed friends?

Another hymn of Watts,—

God is the refuge of His saintsWhen storms of sharp distress invade,

God is the refuge of His saints

When storms of sharp distress invade,

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

Jesus can make a dying bedFeel soft as downy pillows are,

Jesus can make a dying bed

Feel soft as downy pillows are,

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

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

Amid the storm they sang, etc.

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

And O, whate'er of earthly bliss.

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

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

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

Dear Refuge of my weary soul.

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

Lord, how mysterious are Thy ways,O Thou whose tender mercy hears,Thou lovely Source of true delight,Alas, what hourly dangers rise,So fades the lovely blooming flower.

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

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

Father, whate'er of earthly blissThy sovereign will denies,Accepted at Thy throne of graceLet this petition rise.Give me a calm and thankful heartFrom every murmer free.The blessings of Thy grace impart,And make me live to Thee.

Father, whate'er of earthly blissThy sovereign will denies,Accepted at Thy throne of graceLet this petition rise.

Father, whate'er of earthly bliss

Thy sovereign will denies,

Accepted at Thy throne of grace

Let this petition rise.

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

Give me a calm and thankful heart

From every murmer free.

The blessings of Thy grace impart,

And make me live to Thee.

This great hymn has a double claim on the name of Williams. We do not have it exactly in its239 /199original form as written by Rev. William Williams, “The Watts of Wales,” familiarly known as “Williams of Pantycelyn.” His fellow countryman and contemporary, Rev. Peter Williams, or “Williams of Carmarthen,” who translated it from Welsh into English (1771) made alterations and substitutions in the hymn with the result that only the first stanza belongs indisputably to Williams of Pantycelyn, the others being Peter's own or the joint production of the two. As the former, however, is said to have approved and revised the English translation, we may suppose the hymn retained the name of its original author by mutual consent.

Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah,Pilgrim through this barren land.I am weak, but Thou art mighty,Hold me by Thy powerful hand;Bread of heaven,Feed me till I want no more.Open Thou the crystal FountainWhence the healing streams do flow,Let the fiery cloudy pillarLead me all my journey through.Strong Deliverer,Be Thou still my Strength and Shield!When I tread the verge of JordanBid my anxious fears subside;Death of death, and hell's destruction,Land me safe on Canaan's side.Songs of praisesI will ever give to Thee.240 /200Musing on my habitation,Musing on my heavenly home,Fills my heart with holy longing;Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come.Vanity is all I see,Lord, I long to be with Thee.

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

Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah,

Pilgrim through this barren land.

I am weak, but Thou art mighty,

Hold me by Thy powerful hand;

Bread of heaven,

Feed me till I want no more.

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

Open Thou the crystal Fountain

Whence the healing streams do flow,

Let the fiery cloudy pillar

Lead me all my journey through.

Strong Deliverer,

Be Thou still my Strength and Shield!

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

When I tread the verge of Jordan

Bid my anxious fears subside;

Death of death, and hell's destruction,

Land me safe on Canaan's side.

Songs of praises

I will ever give to Thee.

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

Musing on my habitation,

Musing on my heavenly home,

Fills my heart with holy longing;

Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come.

Vanity is all I see,

Lord, I long to be with Thee.

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

Whence the healing streams do flow

—becomes,—

Whence the healing waters flow,

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

Bid the swelling stream divide,

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

Death of death, and hell's destruction,

—is exchanged for the commonplace—

Bear me through the swelling current.

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

It is probable that the famous hymn was sung in America before it obtained a European241 /201reputation. Its history is as follows: Lady Huntingdon having read one of Williams' books with much spiritual satisfaction, persuaded him to prepare a collection of hymns, to be called theGloria in Excelsis, for special use in Mr. Whitefield's Orphans' House in America. In this collection appeared the original stanzas of “Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah.” In 1774, two years after its publication in theGloria in Excelsis, it was republished in England in Mr. Whitefield's collections of hymns.

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

If “Sardius,” the splendid old choral (triple time) everywhere identified with the hymn, be not its original music, its age at least entitles it to its high partnership.The Sacred Lyre(1858) ascribes it to Ludovic Nicholson, of Paisley, Scotland, violinist and amateur composer, born 1770; died 1852; but this is not beyond dispute. Of several242 /202names one more confidently referred to as its author is F.H. Barthelemon (1741–1808).

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

* Seepage 127

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

Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive moanHath taught these rocks the notes of woe;Cease thy complaint—suppress thy groan,And let thy tears forget to flow;Behold the precious balm is found,To lull thy pain, to heal thy wound.Come, freely come, by sin oppressed,Unburden here thy weighty load;Here find thy refuge and thy rest,And trust the mercy of thy God.Thy God's thy Saviour—glorious word!For ever love and praise the Lord.

Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive moan

Hath taught these rocks the notes of woe;

Cease thy complaint—suppress thy groan,

And let thy tears forget to flow;

Behold the precious balm is found,

To lull thy pain, to heal thy wound.

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

Come, freely come, by sin oppressed,

Unburden here thy weighty load;

Here find thy refuge and thy rest,

And trust the mercy of thy God.

Thy God's thy Saviour—glorious word!

For ever love and praise the Lord.

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

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

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

The Rev. John Newton, author of this hymn, was born in London, July 24, 1725. The son of a sea-captain, he became a sailor, and for several years led a reckless life. Converted, he took holy orders and was settled as curate of Olney, Buckinghamshire, and afterwards Rector of St. Mary of244 /204Woolnoth, London, where he died, Dec. 21, 1807. It was while living at Olney that he and Cowper wrote and published theOlney Hymns. His defiance to doubt in these lines is the blunt utterance of a sailor rather than the song of a poet:

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

Begone, unbelief, my Saviour is near,

And for my relief will surely appear.

By prayer let me wrestle and He will perform;

With Christ in the vessel I smile at the storm.

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

“Hanover” often accompanies Charles Wesley's lyric,—

Ye servants of God, your Master proclaim.

The question of the author of this hymn is treated at length in Dr. Louis F. Benson'sStudies of Familiar Hymns. The utmost that need to be said here is that two of the most thorough and indefatigable hymn-chasers, Dr. John Julian and Rev. H.L. Hastings, working independently of each other, found evidence fixing the authorship with strong probability upon Robert Keene, a precentor in Dr. John Rippon's church. Dr. Rippon was pastor of a Baptist Church in London from245 /2051773 to 1836, and in 1787 he published a song-manual calledA Selection of Hymns from the Best Authors,etc., in which “How Firm a Foundation” appears as a new piece, with the signature “K——.”

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

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

The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose

I will not, I will not, desert to his foes;

That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,

I'll never, no never, no never forsake.

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

One opinion of the date of the music writes it “about 1780.” Since the habit of crediting it to John Reading (1677–1764) has been discontinued, it has been in several hymnals ascribed to Marco Portogallo (Mark, the Portuguese), a musician born in Lisbon, 1763, who became a composer of operas in Italy, but was made Chapel-Master to the Portuguese King. In 1807, when Napoleon invaded the Peninsula and dethroned the royal house of Braganza, Old King John VI. fled to Brazil and took Marco with him, where he lived till 1815, but returned and died in Italy, in 1830. Such is the story, and it is all true, only the man's name was246 /206Simao, instead of Marco.Grove's Dictionaryappends to Simao's biography the single sentence, “His brother wrote for the church.” That the Brazilian episode may have been connected with this brother's history by a confusion of names, is imaginable, but it is not known that the brother's name was Marco.

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

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

“Fear not, I am with thee, O be not dismayed.”

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

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

While Thee I seek, Protecting PowerBe my vain wishes stilled,And may this consecrated hourWith better hopes be filled:* * * * * *When gladness wings my favored hour,Thy love my thoughts shall fill,Resigned where storms of sorrow lowerMy soul shall meet Thy will.My lifted eye without a tearThe gathering storm shall see:My steadfast heart shall know no fear:My heart will rest on Thee.

While Thee I seek, Protecting PowerBe my vain wishes stilled,And may this consecrated hourWith better hopes be filled:

While Thee I seek, Protecting Power

Be my vain wishes stilled,

And may this consecrated hour

With better hopes be filled:

* * * * * *

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

When gladness wings my favored hour,

Thy love my thoughts shall fill,

Resigned where storms of sorrow lower

My soul shall meet Thy will.

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

My lifted eye without a tear

The gathering storm shall see:

My steadfast heart shall know no fear:

My heart will rest on Thee.

Old “Norwich,” fromDay's Psalter, and “Simpson,” adapted from Louis Spohr, are found with the hymn in several later manuals. In the memories of older worshipers “Brattle-Street,” with its melodious choral and duet arranged from Pleyel250 /208by Lowell Mason, is inseparable from Miss Williams' words; but modern hymnals have dropped it, probably because too elaborate for average congregational use.

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

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

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

Come unto Me, when shadows darkly gather,

When the sad heart is weary and distressed,

Seeking for comfort from your heavenly Father,

Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.

This sweet hymn, by Mrs. Catherine Esling, is well known to many thousands of mourners, as also is its equally sweet tune of “Henley,” by Lowell251 /209Mason. Melody and words melt together like harp and flute.

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

Large are the mansions in thy Father's dwelling,

Glad are the homes that sorrows never dim,

Sweet are the harps in holy music swelling.

Soft are the tones that raise the heavenly hymn.

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

John WesleyJohn WesleyHymnal

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

How happy is the pilgrim's lot,

How free from every anxious thought.

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

John Wesley, the second son in the famous Epworth family of ministers, was a man who knew how to endure “hardness as a good soldier of Christ.” He was born June 27, 1703, and studied at Charterhouse, London, and at Christ Church, Oxford, becoming a Fellow of Lincoln College. After taking holy orders he went as a missionary to Georgia, U.S., in 1735, and on his return began his remarkable work in England, preaching a more spiritual type of religion, and252 /210awakening the whole kingdom with his revival fervor and his brother's kindling songs. The following paragraph from his itinerant life, gathered probably from a page of his own journals, gives a glimpse of what the founder of the great Methodist denomination did and suffered while carrying his Evangelical message from place to place.

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

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

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

Whatever molests or troubles life,

When past, as nothing we esteem,

And pain, like pleasure, is a dream.

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

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

Confined to neither court nor cell,

His soul disdains on earth to dwell,

He only sojourns here.

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

Blest with the scorn of finite good,My soul is lightened of its loadAnd seeks the things above.There is my house and portion fair;My treasure and my heart are there,And my abiding home.For me my elder brethren stay,And angels beckon me away.And Jesus bids me come.

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

Blest with the scorn of finite good,

My soul is lightened of its load

And seeks the things above.

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

There is my house and portion fair;

My treasure and my heart are there,

And my abiding home.

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

For me my elder brethren stay,

And angels beckon me away.

And Jesus bids me come.

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

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