CHAPTER XIII.

No more heart-pangs nor sadnessWhen Jesus comes;All peace and joy and gladnessWhen Jesus comes.The choral abounds in repetition, and is half refrain, but among all Gospel Hymns remarkable for their tone-delivery this is unsurpassed in the swing of its rhythm.All joy his loved ones bringingWhen Jesus comes.All praise thro' heaven ringingWhen Jesus comes.All beauty bright and vernalWhen Jesus comes.All glory grand, eternalWhen Jesus comes.“TO THE WORK, TO THE WORK.”One of Fanny Crosby's most animating hymns—with Dr. W.H. Doane's full part harmony to re-enforce its musical accent. Mr. Sankey says, “I sang it for the first time in the home of Mr. and Mrs. J.B. Cornell at Long Branch. The servants gathered from all parts of the house while I was singing, and looked into the parlor where I was seated. When I was through one of them said, ‘That is the finest hymn I have heard for a long time,’ I felt that this was a test case, and if the hymn had such power over those servants it would be useful in reaching other people as well; so I published it in theGospel Hymnsin 1875, where it became one of497 /439the best work-songs for our meetings that we had.” (Story of the Gospel Hymns.)The hymn, written in 1870, was first published in 1871 in “Pure Gold”—a book that had a sale of one million two hundred thousand copies.To the work! to the work! there is labor for all,For the Kingdom of darkness and error shall fall,And the name of Jehovah exalted shall be,In the loud-swelling chorus, “Salvation is free!”Chorus.Toiling on, toiling on, toiling on, toiling on! (rep)Let us hope and trust, let us watch and pray,And labor till the Master comes.“O WHERE ARE THE REAPERS?”Matt. 13:30 is the text of this lyric from the pen of Eben E. Rexford.Go out in the by-ways, and search them all,The wheat may be there though the weeds are tall;Then search in the highway, and pass none by,But gather them all for the home on high.Chorus.Where are the reapers? O who will come,And share in the glory of the harvest home?O who will help us to garner inThe sheaves of good from the fields of sin?THE TUNE.Hymn and tune are alike. The melody and harmony by Dr. George F. Root have all the eager498 /440trip and tread of so many of the gospel hymns, and of so much of his music, and the lines respond at every step. Any other composer could not have escaped the compulsion of the final spondees, and much less the author of “Tramp, Tramp, Tramp,” and all the best martial song-tunes of the great war. In this case neither words nor notes can say to the other, “We have piped unto you and ye have not danced,” but a little caution will guard too enthusiastic singing against falling into the drum-rhythm, and travestying a sacred piece.Eben Eugene Rexford was born in Johnsburg, N.Y., July 16, 1841, and has been a writer since he was fourteen years old. He is the author of several popular songs, as “Silver Threads Among the Gold,” “Only a Pansy Blossom” etc., and many essays and treatises on flowers, of which he is passionately fond.“IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL.”Horatio Gates Spafford, the writer of this hymn, was a lawyer, a native of New York state, born Oct. 30, 1828. While connected with an institution in Chicago, as professor of medical jurisprudence, he lost a great part of his fortune by the great fire in that city. This disaster was followed by the loss of his children on the steamer, Ville de Havre, Nov. 22, 1873. He seems to have been a devout Christian, for he wrote his hymn of submissive faith towards the end of the same year—499 /441When peace like a river attendeth my way,When sorrows like sea-billows roll—Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,“It is well, it is well with my soul.”A friend of Spafford who knew his history read this hymn while repining under an inferior affliction of his own. “If he can feel like that after suffering what he has suffered,” he said, “I will cease my complaints.”It may not have been the weight of Mr. Spafford's sorrows wearing him down, but one would infer some mental disturbance in the man seven or eight years later. “In 1881” [writes Mr. Hubert P. Main] “he went to Jerusalem under the hallucination that he was a second Messiah—and died there on the seventh anniversary of his landing in Palestine, Sept. 5, 1888.” The aberrations of an over-wrought mind are beckonings to God's compassion. When reason wanders He takes the soul of His helpless child into his own keeping—and “it is well.”The tune to Spafford's hymn is by P.P. Bliss; a gentle, gliding melody that suits the mood of the words.“WAITING AND WATCHING FOR ME.”Written by Mrs. Marianne Farningham Hearn, born in Kent, Eng., Dec. 17, 1834. The hymn was first published in the fall of 1864 in theLondon Church World. Itsunrhythmicalfirst line—When mysterious whispers are floating about,—was replaced by the one now familiar—500 /442When my final farewell to the world I have said,And gladly lain down to my rest,When softly the watchers shall say, “He is dead,”And fold my pale hands on my breast,And when with my glorified vision at lastThe walls of that City I see,Will any one there at the Beautiful GateBe waiting and watching for me?Mrs. Hearn—a member of the Baptist denomination—has long been the editor of the (English)Sunday School Times, but her literary work has been more largely in connection with theChristian Worldnewspaper of which she has been a staff-member since its foundation.THE TUNE.The long lines, not easily manageable for congregational singing, are wisely set by Mr. Bliss to duet music. There is a weighty thought in the hymn for every Christian, and experience has shown that a pair of good singers can make it very affecting, but the only use of the repeat, by way of a chorus, seems to be to give the miscellaneous voices a brief chance to sing.“HE WILL HIDE ME.”(Isa. 49:2.)Miss Mary Elizabeth Servoss, the author of this trustful hymn, was born in Schenectady, N.Y., Aug. 22, 1849. When a very young girl her501 /443admiration of Fanny Crosby's writings, and the great and good service they were doing in the world, inspired her with a longing to resemble her. Though her burden was as real, it was not like the other's, and her opportunities for religious meditation and literary work were fewer than those of the elder lady, but the limited number of hymns she has written have much of the spirit and beauty of their model.Providence decreed for her a life of domestic care and patient waiting. For eighteen years she was the constant attendant of a disabled grandmother, and long afterwards love and duty made her the home nurse during her mother's protracted illness and the last sickness of her father, until both parents passed away.From her present home in Edeson, Ill., some utterances of her chastened spirit have found their way to the public, and been a gospel of blessing. Besides “He Will Hide Me” other hymns of Miss Servoss are “Portals of Light,” “He Careth,” “Patiently Enduring,” and “Gates of Praise,” the last being the best known.When the storms of life are raging.Tempests wild on sea and land,I will seek a place of refugeIn the shadow of God's hand.Chorus.He will hide me, He will hide me,Where no harm can e'er betide me,502 /444He will hide me, safely hide meIn the shadow of His hand.* * * * * *So while here the cross I'm bearing,Meeting storms and billows wild,Jesus for my soul is caring,Naught can harm His Father's child.He will hide me, etc.THE TUNE.An animating choral in nine-eight tempo, with a swinging movement and fugue chorus, is rather florid for the hymn, but undeniably musical. Mr. James McGranahan was the composer. He was born in Adamsville, Pa., July 4, 1840. His education was acquired mostly at the public schools, and both in general knowledge and in musical accomplishments it may be said of him that he is “self-made.”Music was born in him, and at the age of nineteen, with some valuable help from men like Bassini, Webb, Root and Zerrahn, he had studied to so good purpose that he taught music classes himself. This talent, joined to the gift of a very sweet tenor voice, made him the natural successor of the lamented Bliss, and, with Major D.W. Whittle, he entered on a career of gospel work, making between 1881 and 1885 two successful tours of England, Scotland and Ireland, and through the chief American cities.503 /445Among his publications are theMale Chorus Book,Songs of the Gospeland theGospel Male Choir.Resides at Kinsman, O.“REVIVE THY WORK, O LORD.”(Heb. 3:2.)The supposed date of the hymn is 1860; the author, Albert Midlane. He was born at Newport on the Isle of Wight, Jan. 23, 1825 a business man, but, being a Sunday-school teacher, he was prompted to write verses for children. The habit grew upon him till he became a frequent and acceptable hymn-writer, both for juvenile and for general use. English collections have at least three hundred credited to him.Revive Thy work, O Lord,Thy mighty arm make bare,Speak with the voice that wakes the dead,And make Thy people hear.THE TUNE.Music and words together make a song-litany alive with all the old psalm-tune unction and the new vigor; and both were upon Mr. McGranahan when he wrote the choral. It is one of his successes.Revive thy work, O Lord,Exalt Thy precious name,504 /446And by the Holy Ghost our loveFor Thee and Thine inflame.Refrain.Revive Thy work, O Lord,And give refreshing showers;The glory shall be all Thine own,The blessing shall be ours.“WHERE IS MY WANDERING BOY TO-NIGHT?”This remarkable composition—words and music by Rev. Robert Lowry—has a record among sacred songs like that of “The Prodigal Son” among parables.A widowed lady of culture, about forty years of age, who was an accomplished vocalist, had ceased to sing, though her sweet voice was still in its prime. The cause was her sorrow for her runaway boy. She had not heard from him for five years. While spending a week with friends in a city distant from home, her hidden talent was betrayed by the friends to the pastor of their church, where a revival was in progress, and persuasion that seemed to put a duty upon her finally procured her consent to sing a solo.The church was crowded. With a force and feeling that can easily be guessed she sang “Where Is My Boy Tonight?” and finished the first stanza. She began the second,—Once he was pure as morning dew,As he knelt at his mother's knee,507 /447No face was so bright, no heart more true,And none were so sweet as he;—and as the congregation caught up the refrain,—O where is my boy tonight?O where is my boy tonight?My heart overflows, for I love him he knows,O where is my boy tonight?—a young man who had been sitting in a back seat made his way up the aisle and sobbed, “Mother, I'm here!” The embrace of that mother and her long-lost boy turned the service into a general hallelujah. At the inquiry meeting that night there were many souls at the Mercy Seat who never knelt there before—and the young wanderer was one.Mr. Sankey, when in California with Mr. Moody, sang this hymn in one of the meetings and told the story of a mother in the far east who had commissioned him to search for her missing son. By a happy providence the son was in the house—and the story and the song sent him home repentant.At another time Mr. Sankey sang the same hymn from the steps of a snow-bound train, and a man between whose father and himself had been trouble and a separation, was touched, and returned to be reconciled after an absence of twenty years.At one evening service in Stanberry, Mo., the singing of the hymn by the leader of the choir led508 /448to the conversion of one boy who was present, and whose parents were that night praying for him in an eastern state, and inspired such earnest prayer in the hearts of two other runaway boys' parents that the same answer followed.There would not be room in a dozen pages to record all the similar saving incidents connected with the singing of “Where Is My Wandering Boy?” The rhetoric of love is strong in every note and syllable of the solo, and the tender chorus of voices swells the song to heaven like an antiphonal prayer.Strange to say, Dr. Lowry set lightly by his hymns and tunes, and deprecated much mention of them though he could not deny their success. An active Christian since seventeen years of age, through his early pulpit service, his six years' professorship, and the long pastorate in Plainfield, N.J., closed by his death, he considered preaching to be his supreme function as it certainly was his first love. Music was to him “a side-issue,” an “efflorescence,” and writing a hymn ranked far below making and delivering a sermon. “I felt a sort of meanness when I began to be known as a composer,” he said. And yet he was the author of a hymn and tune which “has done more to bring back wandering boys than any other” ever written.** “Where Is My Boy Tonight” was composed for a book of temperance hymns,The Fountain of Song, 1877.509 /449“ETERNITY.”This is the title and refrain of both Mrs. Ellen M.H. Gates' impressive poem and its tune.O the clanging bells of Time!Night and day they never cease;We are weaned with their chime,For they do not bring us peace.And we hush our hearts to hear,And we strain our eyes to seeIf thy shores are drawing nearEternity! Eternity!Skill was needed to vocalize this great word, but the ear of Mr. Bliss for musical prosody did not fail to make it effective. After the beautiful harmony through the seven lines, the choral reverently softens under the rallentando of the closing bars, and dwelling on the awe-inspiring syllables, solemnly dies away.TRIUMPH BY AND BY.This rally-song of the Christian arena is wonderfully stirring, especially in great meetings, for it sings best in full choral volume.The prize is set before us,To win His words implore us,The eye of God is o'er usFrom on high.His loving tones are fallingWhile sin is dark, appalling,'Tis Jesus gently calling;He is nigh!510 /450Chorus.By and by we shall meet Him,By and by we shall greet Him,And with Jesus reign in glory,By and by!We'll follow where He leadeth,We'll pasture where He feedeth,We'll yield to Him who pleadethFrom on high.Then nought from Him shall sever,Our hope shall brighten everAnd faith shall fail us never;He is nigh.Chorus—By and by, etc.Dr. Christopher Ruby Blackall, the author of the hymn, was born in Albany, N.Y., Sept. 18, 1830. He was a surgeon in the Civil War, and in medical practice fifteen years, but afterwards became connected with the American Baptist Publication Society as manager of one of its branches. He has written several Sunday-school songs set to music by W.H. Doane.THE TUNE,By Horatio R. Palmer is exactly what the hymn demands. The range scarcely exceeds an octave, but with the words “From on high,” the stroke of the soprano on upper D carries the feeling to unseen summits, and verifies the title of the song. From that note, through melody and chorus the “Triumph by and by” rings clear.511 /451“NOT HALF HAS EVER BEEN TOLD”This is emotional, but every word and note is uplifting, and creates the mood for religious impressions. The writer, Rev. John Bush Atchison, was born at Wilson, N.Y., Feb. 18, 1840, and died July 15, 1882.I have read of a beautiful cityFar away in the kingdom of God,I have read how its walls are of jasper,How its streets are all golden and broad;In the midst of the street is Life's RiverClear as crystal and pure to behold,But not half of that city's bright gloryTo mortals has ever been told.The chorus (twice sung)—Not half has been told,—concludes with repeat of the two last lines of this first stanza.Mr. Atchison was a Methodist clergyman who composed several good hymns. “Behold the Stone is Rolled Away,” “O Crown of Rejoicing,” and “Fully Persuaded,” indicate samples of his work more or less well-known. “Not Half Has Ever Been Told” was written in 1875.THE TUNE.Dr. Otis F. Presbry, the composer, was a young farmer of York, Livingston Co., N.Y., born there the 20th of December, 1820. Choice of a512 /452professional life led him to Berkshire Medical College, where he graduated in 1847. In after years his natural love of musical studies induced him to give his time to compiling and publishing religious tunes, with hymns more especially for Sunday-schools.He became a composer and wrote the melody to Atchison's words in 1877, which was arranged by a blind musician of Washington, D.C., J.W. Bischoff by name, with whom he had formed a partnership. The solo is long—would better, perhaps, have been four-line instead of eight—but well sung, it is a flight of melody that holds an assembly, and touches hearts.Dr. Presbry's best known book wasGospel Bells(1883), the joint production of himself, Bischoff, and Rev. J.E. Rankin. He died Aug. 20, 1901.“COME.”One of the most characteristic (both words and music) of theGospel Hymns—“Mrs. James Gibson Johnson” is the name attached to it as its author, though we have been unable to trace and verify her claim.O, word of words the sweetest,O, words in which there lieAll promise, all fulfillment,And end of mystery;Lamenting or rejoicing,With doubt or terror nigh,513 /453I hear the “Come” of Jesus,And to His cross I fly.Chorus.Come, come—Weary, heavy-laden, come, O come to me.THE TUNE,Composed by James McGranahan, delivers the whole stanza in soprano or tenor solo, when the alto, joining the treble, leads off the refrain in duet, the male voices striking alternate notes until the full harmony in the last three bars. The style and movement of the chorus are somewhat suggestive of a popular glee, but the music of the duet is flexible and sweet, and the bass and tenor progress with it not in the ride-and-tie-fashion but marking timewiththe title-syllable.The contrast between the spiritual and the intellectual effect of the hymn and its wakeful tune is illustrated by a case in Baltimore. While Moody and Sankey were doing their gospel work in that city, a man, who, it seems, had brought a copy of theGospel Hymns, walked out of one of the meetings after hearing this hymn-tune, and on reaching home, tore out the leaves that contained the song and threw them into the fire, saying he had “never heard such twaddle” in all his life.The sequel showed that he had been too hasty. The hymn would not leave him. After hearing it night and day in his mind till he began to realize514 /454what it meant, he went to Mr. Moody and told him he was “a vile sinner” and wanted to know how he could “come” to Christ. The divine invitation was explained, and the convicted man underwent a vital change. His converted opinion of the hymn was quite as remarkably different. He declared it was “the sweetest one in the book.” (Story of the Gospel Hymns.)“ALMOST PERSUADED.”The Rev. Mr. Brundage tells the origin of this hymn. In a sermon preached by him many years ago, the closing words were:“He who is almost persuaded is almost saved, but to be almost saved is to be entirely lost.” Mr. Bliss, being in the audience, was impressed with the thought, and immediately set about the composition of what proved one of his most popular songs, deriving his inspiration from the sermon of his friend, Mr. Brundage.Memoir of Bliss.Almost persuaded now to believe,Almost persuaded Christ to receive;Seems now some soul to say“Go Spirit, go thy way,Some more convenient dayOn Thee I'll call.”* * * * * *Almost persuaded—the harvest is past!Both hymn and tune are by Mr. Bliss—and the omission of a chorus is in proper taste. This515 /455revival piece brings the eloquence of sense and sound to bear upon the conscience in one monitory pleading. Incidents in this country and in England related in Mr. Sankey's book, illustrate its power. It has a convicting and converting history.“MY AIN COUNTREE.”This hymn was written by Miss Mary Augusta Lee one Sabbath day in 1860 at Bowmount, Croton Falls, N.Y., and first published in theNew York Observer, Dec, 1861. The authoress had been reading the story of John Macduff who, with his wife, left Scotland for the United States, and accumulated property by toil and thrift in the great West. In her leisure after the necessity for hard work was past, the Scotch woman grew homesick and pined for her “ain countree.” Her husband, at her request, came east and settled with her in sight of the Atlantic where she could see the waters that washed the Scotland shore. But she still pined, and finally to save her life, JohnMacdufftook her back to the heather hills of the mother-land, where she soon recovered her health and spirits.I am far from my hame an' I'm weary aften whilesFor the langed-for hame-bringing an' my Father's welcome smiles.I'll ne'er be fu' content until mine eyes do seeThe shinin' gates o' heaven an' mine ain countree.The airt' is flecked wi' flowers mony-tinted, frish an' gay,The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them sae,516 /456But these sights an' these soun's will naething be to meWhen I hear the angels singin' in my ain countree.Miss Lee was born in Croton Falls in 1838, and was of Scotch descent, and cared for by her grandfather and a Scotch nurse, her mother dying in her infancy. In 1870 she became the wife of a Mr. Demarest, and her married life was spent in Passaic, N.J., until their removal to Pasadena, Cal., in hope of restoring her failing health. She died at Los Angeles, Jan. 8, 1888.THE TUNEIs an air written in 1864 in the Scottish style by Mrs. Ione T. Hanna, wife of a banker in Denver, Colo., and harmonized for choral use by Hubert P.Main in 1873. Its plaintive sweetness suits the words which probably inspired it. The tone and metre of the hymn were natural to the young author's inheritance; a memory of her grandfather's home-land melodies, with which he once crooned “little Mary” to sleep.Sung as a closing hymn, “My ain countree” sends the worshipper away with a tender, unworldly thought that lingers.Mrs. Demarest wrote an additional stanza in 1881 at the request of Mr. Main.Some really good gospel hymns and tunes among those omitted in this chapter will cry out against the choice that passed them by. Others are of the more ephemeral sort, the phenomena517 /457(and the demand) of a generation. Carols of pious joy with inordinate repetition, choruses that surprise old lyrics with modern thrills, ballads of ringing sound and slender verse, are the spray of tuneful emotion that sparkles on every revival high-tide, but rarely leaves floodmarks that time will not erase. Religious songs of the demonstrative, not to say sensational, kind spring impromptu from the conditions of their time—and give place to others equally spontaneous when the next spiritual wave sweeps by. Their value lingers in the impulse their novelty gave to the life of sanctuary worship, and in the Christian characters their emotional power helped into being.518 /458CHAPTER XIII.HYMNS, FESTIVAL AND OCCASIONAL.CHRISTMAS.“ADESTE FIDELES.”This hymn is of doubtful authorship, by some assigned to as late a date as 1680, and by others to the 13th century as one of the Latin poems of St. Bonaventura, Bishop of Albano, who was born at Bagnarea in Tuscany, A.D. 1221. He was a learned man, a Franciscan friar, one of the greatest teachers and writers of his church, and finally a cardinal. Certainly Roman Catholic in its origin, whoever was its author, it is a Christian hymn qualified in every way to be sung by the universal church.Adeste, fidelesLaeti triumphantes,Venite, venite in Bethlehem;Natum videte Regem angelorum.519 /459Chorus.Venite, adoremus,Venite, adoremus!Venite, adoremus Dominum.This has been translated by Rev. Frederick Oakeley (1808–1880) and by Rev. Edward Caswall (1814–1878) the version of the former being the one in more general use. The ancient hymn is much abridged in the hymnals, and even the translations have been altered and modernized in the three or four stanzas commonly sung. Caswall's version renders the first line “Come hither, ye faithful,” literally construing the Latin words.The following is substantially Oakeley's English of the “Adeste, fideles.”O come all ye faithfulJoyful and triumphant,To Bethlehem hasten now with glad accord;Come and behold Him,Born the King of Angels.Chorus.O come, let us adore Him,O come, let us adore Him,O come, let us adore Him,Christ, the Lord.Sing choirs of angels,Sing in exultationThrough Heaven's high arches be your praises poured;Now to our God beGlory in the highest!O come, let us adore Him!520 /460Yea, Lord, we bless Thee,Born for our salvationJesus, forever be Thy name adored!Word of the FatherNow in flesh appearing;O come, let us adore Him!The hymn with its primitive music as chanted in the ancient churches, was known as “The Midnight Mass,” and was the processional song of the religious orders on their way to the sanctuaries where they gathered in preparation for the Christmas morning service. The modern tune—or rather the tune in modern use—is the one everywhere familiar as the “Portuguese Hymn.” (Seepage 205.)MILTON'S HYMN TO THE NATIVITY.It was the winter wildWhile the Heavenly ChildAll meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies.Nature in awe of HimHad doffed her gaudy trimWith her great Master so to sympathize.* * * * * *No war nor battle soundWas heard the world around.The idle spear and shield were high uphung.The hooked chariot stoodUnstained with hostile blood,The trumpets spake not to the armed throng,And Kings sat still with awful eyeAs if they knew their Sovereign Lord was by.This exalted song—the work of a boy of scarcely twenty-one—is a Greek ode in form, of two521 /461hundred and sixteen lines in twenty-seven strophes. Some of its figures and fancies are more to the taste of the seventeenth century than to ours, but it is full of poetic and Christian sublimities, and its high periods will be heard in the Christmas hymnody of coming centuries, though it is not the fashion to sing it now.John Milton, son and grandson of John Miltons, was born in Breadstreet, London, Dec. 9, 1608, fitted for the University in St. Paul's school, and studied seven years at Cambridge. His parents intended him for the church, but he chose literature as a profession, travelled and made distinguished friendships in Italy, Switzerland and France, and when little past his majority was before the public as a poet, author of the Ode to the Nativity, of a Masque, and of many songs and elegies. In later years he entered political life under the stress of his Puritan sympathies, and served under Cromwell and his successor as Latin Secretary of State through the time of the Commonwealth. While in public duty he became blind, but in his retirement composed “Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained.” Died in 1676.THE TUNE.In the old “Carmina Sacra” a noble choral (without name except “No war nor battle sound”) well interprets portions of the 4th and 5th stanzas of the great hymn, but replaces the line—522 /462“The idle spear and shield were high uphung.”—with the more modern and less figurative—“No hostile chiefs to furious combat ran.”Three stanzas are also added, by the Rev. H.O. Dwight, missionary to Constantinople. The substituted line, which is also, perhaps, the composition of Mr. Dwight, rhymes with—“His reign of peace upon the earth began,”—and as it is not un-Miltonic, few singers have ever known that it was not Milton's own.Dr. John Knowles Paine, Professor of Music at Harvard University, and author of the Oratorio of “St. Peter,” composed a cantata to the great Christmas Ode of Milton, probably about 1868.Professor Paine died Apr. 25, 1906.It is worth noting that John Milton senior, the great poet's father, was a skilled musician and a composer of psalmody. The old tunes “York” and “Norwich,” in Ravenscroft's collection and copied from it in many early New England singing-books, are supposed to be his.The Miltons were an old Oxfordshire Catholic family, and John, the poet's father, was disinherited for turning Protestant, but he prospered in business, and earned the comfort of a country gentleman. He died, very aged, in May, 1646, and his son addressed a Latin poem (“Ad Patrem”) to his memory.523 /463“HARK! THE HERALD ANGELS SING.”This hymn of Charles Wesley, dating about 1730, was evidently written with the “Adeste Fideles” in mind, some of the stanzas, in fact, being almost like translations of it. The form of the two first lines was originally—Hark! how all the welkin rings,“Glory to the King of Kings!”—but was altered thirty years later by Rev. Martin Madan (1726–1790) to—Hark! the herald angels singGlory to the new-born King!Other changes by the same hand modified the three following stanzas, and a fifth stanza was added by John Wesley—Hail the heavenly Prince of Peace!Hail the Sun of Righteousness!Light and life to all He brings,Ris'n with healing in His wings.THE TUNE.“Mendelssohn” is the favorite musical interpreter of the hymn. It is a noble and spirited choral from Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy's cantata, “Gott ist Licht.”“JOY TO THE WORLD, THE LORD IS COME!”This inspirational lyric of Dr. Watts never grows old. It was written in 1719.524 /464Joy to the world! the Saviour reigns!Let men their songs employWhile fields and floods, rocks, hills and plainsRepeat the sounding joy.Dr. Edward Hodges (1796–1867) wrote an excellent psalm-tune to it which is still in occasional use, but the music united to the hymn in the popular heart is “Antioch,” an adaptation from Handel's Messiah. This companionship holds unbroken from hymnal to hymnal and has done so for sixty or seventy years; and, in spite of its fugue, the tune—apparently by some magic of its own—contrives to enlist the entire voice of a congregation, the bass falling in on the third beat as if by intuition. The truth is, the tune has become the habit of the hymn, and to the thousands who have it by heart, as they do in every village where there is a singing school, “Antioch” is “Joy to the World,” and “Joy to the World” is “Antioch.”“HARK! WHAT MEAN THOSE HOLY VOICES?”This fine hymn, so many years appearing with the simple sign “Cawood” or “J. Cawood” printed under it, still holds its place by universal welcome.Hark! what mean those holy voicesSweetly sounding through the skies?Lo th' angelic host rejoices;Heavenly hallelujahs rise.Hear them tell the wondrous story,Hear them chant in hymns of joy,525 /465Glory in the highest, glory,Glory be to God on high!The Rev. John Cawood, a farmer's son, was born at Matlock, Derbyshire, Eng., March 18, 1775, graduated at Oxford, 1801, and was appointed perpetual curate of St. Anne's in Bendly, Worcestershire. Died Nov. 7, 1852. He is said to have written seventeen hymns, but was too modest to publish any.THE TUNE.Dr. Dykes' “Oswald,” and Henry Smart's “Bethany” are worthy expressions of the feeling in Cawood's hymn. In America, Mason's “Amaland,” with fugue in the second and third lines, has long been a favorite.“WHILE SHEPHERDS WATCHED THEIR FLOCKS.”This was written by Nahum Tate (1652–1715), and after two hundred years the church remembers and sings the song. Six generations have grown up with their childhood memory of its pictorial verses illustrating St. Luke's Christmas story.While shepherds watched their flocks by night,All seated on the ground,The angel of the Lord came downAnd glory shone around.“Fear not” said he, for mighty dreadHad seized their troubled mind,“Glad tidings of great joy I bringTo you and all mankind.”526 /466THE TUNE.Modern hymnals have substituted “Christmas” and other more or less spirited tunes for Read's “Sherburne,” which was the first musical translation of the hymn to American ears. But, to show the traditional hold that the New England fugue melody maintains on the people, many collections print it as alternate tune. Some modifications have been made in it, but its survival is a tribute to its real merit.Daniel Read, the creator of “Sherburne,” “Windham,” “Russia,” “Stafford,” “Lisbon,” and many other tunes characteristic of a bygone school of psalmody, was born in Rehoboth, Mass., Nov. 2, 1757. He publishedThe American Singing Book, 1785,Columbian Harmony, 1793, and several other collections. Died in New Haven, Ct., 1836.“IT CAME UPON THE MIDNIGHT CLEAR.”Rev. Edmund Hamilton Sears, author of this beautiful hymn-poem, was born at Sandisfield, Berkshire Co., Mass., April 6, 1810, and educated at Union College and Harvard University. He became pastor of the Unitarian Church in Wayland, Mass., 1838. Died in the adjoining town of Weston, Jan. 14, 1876. The hymn first appeared in theChristian Registerin 1857.

No more heart-pangs nor sadnessWhen Jesus comes;All peace and joy and gladnessWhen Jesus comes.

No more heart-pangs nor sadness

When Jesus comes;

All peace and joy and gladness

When Jesus comes.

The choral abounds in repetition, and is half refrain, but among all Gospel Hymns remarkable for their tone-delivery this is unsurpassed in the swing of its rhythm.

All joy his loved ones bringingWhen Jesus comes.All praise thro' heaven ringingWhen Jesus comes.All beauty bright and vernalWhen Jesus comes.All glory grand, eternalWhen Jesus comes.

All joy his loved ones bringing

When Jesus comes.

All praise thro' heaven ringing

When Jesus comes.

All beauty bright and vernal

When Jesus comes.

All glory grand, eternal

When Jesus comes.

One of Fanny Crosby's most animating hymns—with Dr. W.H. Doane's full part harmony to re-enforce its musical accent. Mr. Sankey says, “I sang it for the first time in the home of Mr. and Mrs. J.B. Cornell at Long Branch. The servants gathered from all parts of the house while I was singing, and looked into the parlor where I was seated. When I was through one of them said, ‘That is the finest hymn I have heard for a long time,’ I felt that this was a test case, and if the hymn had such power over those servants it would be useful in reaching other people as well; so I published it in theGospel Hymnsin 1875, where it became one of497 /439the best work-songs for our meetings that we had.” (Story of the Gospel Hymns.)

The hymn, written in 1870, was first published in 1871 in “Pure Gold”—a book that had a sale of one million two hundred thousand copies.

To the work! to the work! there is labor for all,For the Kingdom of darkness and error shall fall,And the name of Jehovah exalted shall be,In the loud-swelling chorus, “Salvation is free!”Chorus.Toiling on, toiling on, toiling on, toiling on! (rep)Let us hope and trust, let us watch and pray,And labor till the Master comes.

To the work! to the work! there is labor for all,For the Kingdom of darkness and error shall fall,And the name of Jehovah exalted shall be,In the loud-swelling chorus, “Salvation is free!”

To the work! to the work! there is labor for all,

For the Kingdom of darkness and error shall fall,

And the name of Jehovah exalted shall be,

In the loud-swelling chorus, “Salvation is free!”

Chorus.Toiling on, toiling on, toiling on, toiling on! (rep)Let us hope and trust, let us watch and pray,And labor till the Master comes.

Chorus.

Toiling on, toiling on, toiling on, toiling on! (rep)

Let us hope and trust, let us watch and pray,

And labor till the Master comes.

Matt. 13:30 is the text of this lyric from the pen of Eben E. Rexford.

Go out in the by-ways, and search them all,The wheat may be there though the weeds are tall;Then search in the highway, and pass none by,But gather them all for the home on high.Chorus.Where are the reapers? O who will come,And share in the glory of the harvest home?O who will help us to garner inThe sheaves of good from the fields of sin?

Go out in the by-ways, and search them all,The wheat may be there though the weeds are tall;Then search in the highway, and pass none by,But gather them all for the home on high.

Go out in the by-ways, and search them all,

The wheat may be there though the weeds are tall;

Then search in the highway, and pass none by,

But gather them all for the home on high.

Chorus.Where are the reapers? O who will come,And share in the glory of the harvest home?O who will help us to garner inThe sheaves of good from the fields of sin?

Chorus.

Where are the reapers? O who will come,

And share in the glory of the harvest home?

O who will help us to garner in

The sheaves of good from the fields of sin?

Hymn and tune are alike. The melody and harmony by Dr. George F. Root have all the eager498 /440trip and tread of so many of the gospel hymns, and of so much of his music, and the lines respond at every step. Any other composer could not have escaped the compulsion of the final spondees, and much less the author of “Tramp, Tramp, Tramp,” and all the best martial song-tunes of the great war. In this case neither words nor notes can say to the other, “We have piped unto you and ye have not danced,” but a little caution will guard too enthusiastic singing against falling into the drum-rhythm, and travestying a sacred piece.

Eben Eugene Rexford was born in Johnsburg, N.Y., July 16, 1841, and has been a writer since he was fourteen years old. He is the author of several popular songs, as “Silver Threads Among the Gold,” “Only a Pansy Blossom” etc., and many essays and treatises on flowers, of which he is passionately fond.

Horatio Gates Spafford, the writer of this hymn, was a lawyer, a native of New York state, born Oct. 30, 1828. While connected with an institution in Chicago, as professor of medical jurisprudence, he lost a great part of his fortune by the great fire in that city. This disaster was followed by the loss of his children on the steamer, Ville de Havre, Nov. 22, 1873. He seems to have been a devout Christian, for he wrote his hymn of submissive faith towards the end of the same year—

When peace like a river attendeth my way,When sorrows like sea-billows roll—Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,“It is well, it is well with my soul.”

When peace like a river attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea-billows roll—

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

“It is well, it is well with my soul.”

A friend of Spafford who knew his history read this hymn while repining under an inferior affliction of his own. “If he can feel like that after suffering what he has suffered,” he said, “I will cease my complaints.”

It may not have been the weight of Mr. Spafford's sorrows wearing him down, but one would infer some mental disturbance in the man seven or eight years later. “In 1881” [writes Mr. Hubert P. Main] “he went to Jerusalem under the hallucination that he was a second Messiah—and died there on the seventh anniversary of his landing in Palestine, Sept. 5, 1888.” The aberrations of an over-wrought mind are beckonings to God's compassion. When reason wanders He takes the soul of His helpless child into his own keeping—and “it is well.”

The tune to Spafford's hymn is by P.P. Bliss; a gentle, gliding melody that suits the mood of the words.

Written by Mrs. Marianne Farningham Hearn, born in Kent, Eng., Dec. 17, 1834. The hymn was first published in the fall of 1864 in theLondon Church World. Itsunrhythmicalfirst line—

When mysterious whispers are floating about,

—was replaced by the one now familiar—

When my final farewell to the world I have said,And gladly lain down to my rest,When softly the watchers shall say, “He is dead,”And fold my pale hands on my breast,And when with my glorified vision at lastThe walls of that City I see,Will any one there at the Beautiful GateBe waiting and watching for me?

When my final farewell to the world I have said,

And gladly lain down to my rest,

When softly the watchers shall say, “He is dead,”

And fold my pale hands on my breast,

And when with my glorified vision at last

The walls of that City I see,

Will any one there at the Beautiful Gate

Be waiting and watching for me?

Mrs. Hearn—a member of the Baptist denomination—has long been the editor of the (English)Sunday School Times, but her literary work has been more largely in connection with theChristian Worldnewspaper of which she has been a staff-member since its foundation.

The long lines, not easily manageable for congregational singing, are wisely set by Mr. Bliss to duet music. There is a weighty thought in the hymn for every Christian, and experience has shown that a pair of good singers can make it very affecting, but the only use of the repeat, by way of a chorus, seems to be to give the miscellaneous voices a brief chance to sing.

Miss Mary Elizabeth Servoss, the author of this trustful hymn, was born in Schenectady, N.Y., Aug. 22, 1849. When a very young girl her501 /443admiration of Fanny Crosby's writings, and the great and good service they were doing in the world, inspired her with a longing to resemble her. Though her burden was as real, it was not like the other's, and her opportunities for religious meditation and literary work were fewer than those of the elder lady, but the limited number of hymns she has written have much of the spirit and beauty of their model.

Providence decreed for her a life of domestic care and patient waiting. For eighteen years she was the constant attendant of a disabled grandmother, and long afterwards love and duty made her the home nurse during her mother's protracted illness and the last sickness of her father, until both parents passed away.

From her present home in Edeson, Ill., some utterances of her chastened spirit have found their way to the public, and been a gospel of blessing. Besides “He Will Hide Me” other hymns of Miss Servoss are “Portals of Light,” “He Careth,” “Patiently Enduring,” and “Gates of Praise,” the last being the best known.

When the storms of life are raging.Tempests wild on sea and land,I will seek a place of refugeIn the shadow of God's hand.Chorus.He will hide me, He will hide me,Where no harm can e'er betide me,502 /444He will hide me, safely hide meIn the shadow of His hand.* * * * * *So while here the cross I'm bearing,Meeting storms and billows wild,Jesus for my soul is caring,Naught can harm His Father's child.He will hide me, etc.

When the storms of life are raging.Tempests wild on sea and land,I will seek a place of refugeIn the shadow of God's hand.

When the storms of life are raging.

Tempests wild on sea and land,

I will seek a place of refuge

In the shadow of God's hand.

Chorus.He will hide me, He will hide me,Where no harm can e'er betide me,502 /444He will hide me, safely hide meIn the shadow of His hand.

Chorus.

He will hide me, He will hide me,

Where no harm can e'er betide me,

He will hide me, safely hide me

In the shadow of His hand.

* * * * * *

So while here the cross I'm bearing,Meeting storms and billows wild,Jesus for my soul is caring,Naught can harm His Father's child.He will hide me, etc.

So while here the cross I'm bearing,

Meeting storms and billows wild,

Jesus for my soul is caring,

Naught can harm His Father's child.

He will hide me, etc.

An animating choral in nine-eight tempo, with a swinging movement and fugue chorus, is rather florid for the hymn, but undeniably musical. Mr. James McGranahan was the composer. He was born in Adamsville, Pa., July 4, 1840. His education was acquired mostly at the public schools, and both in general knowledge and in musical accomplishments it may be said of him that he is “self-made.”

Music was born in him, and at the age of nineteen, with some valuable help from men like Bassini, Webb, Root and Zerrahn, he had studied to so good purpose that he taught music classes himself. This talent, joined to the gift of a very sweet tenor voice, made him the natural successor of the lamented Bliss, and, with Major D.W. Whittle, he entered on a career of gospel work, making between 1881 and 1885 two successful tours of England, Scotland and Ireland, and through the chief American cities.

Among his publications are theMale Chorus Book,Songs of the Gospeland theGospel Male Choir.

Resides at Kinsman, O.

The supposed date of the hymn is 1860; the author, Albert Midlane. He was born at Newport on the Isle of Wight, Jan. 23, 1825 a business man, but, being a Sunday-school teacher, he was prompted to write verses for children. The habit grew upon him till he became a frequent and acceptable hymn-writer, both for juvenile and for general use. English collections have at least three hundred credited to him.

Revive Thy work, O Lord,Thy mighty arm make bare,Speak with the voice that wakes the dead,And make Thy people hear.

Revive Thy work, O Lord,

Thy mighty arm make bare,

Speak with the voice that wakes the dead,

And make Thy people hear.

Music and words together make a song-litany alive with all the old psalm-tune unction and the new vigor; and both were upon Mr. McGranahan when he wrote the choral. It is one of his successes.

Revive thy work, O Lord,Exalt Thy precious name,504 /446And by the Holy Ghost our loveFor Thee and Thine inflame.Refrain.Revive Thy work, O Lord,And give refreshing showers;The glory shall be all Thine own,The blessing shall be ours.

Revive thy work, O Lord,Exalt Thy precious name,504 /446And by the Holy Ghost our loveFor Thee and Thine inflame.

Revive thy work, O Lord,

Exalt Thy precious name,

And by the Holy Ghost our love

For Thee and Thine inflame.

Refrain.Revive Thy work, O Lord,And give refreshing showers;The glory shall be all Thine own,The blessing shall be ours.

Refrain.

Revive Thy work, O Lord,

And give refreshing showers;

The glory shall be all Thine own,

The blessing shall be ours.

This remarkable composition—words and music by Rev. Robert Lowry—has a record among sacred songs like that of “The Prodigal Son” among parables.

A widowed lady of culture, about forty years of age, who was an accomplished vocalist, had ceased to sing, though her sweet voice was still in its prime. The cause was her sorrow for her runaway boy. She had not heard from him for five years. While spending a week with friends in a city distant from home, her hidden talent was betrayed by the friends to the pastor of their church, where a revival was in progress, and persuasion that seemed to put a duty upon her finally procured her consent to sing a solo.

The church was crowded. With a force and feeling that can easily be guessed she sang “Where Is My Boy Tonight?” and finished the first stanza. She began the second,—

Once he was pure as morning dew,As he knelt at his mother's knee,507 /447No face was so bright, no heart more true,And none were so sweet as he;

Once he was pure as morning dew,

As he knelt at his mother's knee,

No face was so bright, no heart more true,

And none were so sweet as he;

—and as the congregation caught up the refrain,—

O where is my boy tonight?O where is my boy tonight?My heart overflows, for I love him he knows,O where is my boy tonight?

O where is my boy tonight?

My heart overflows, for I love him he knows,

O where is my boy tonight?

—a young man who had been sitting in a back seat made his way up the aisle and sobbed, “Mother, I'm here!” The embrace of that mother and her long-lost boy turned the service into a general hallelujah. At the inquiry meeting that night there were many souls at the Mercy Seat who never knelt there before—and the young wanderer was one.

Mr. Sankey, when in California with Mr. Moody, sang this hymn in one of the meetings and told the story of a mother in the far east who had commissioned him to search for her missing son. By a happy providence the son was in the house—and the story and the song sent him home repentant.

At another time Mr. Sankey sang the same hymn from the steps of a snow-bound train, and a man between whose father and himself had been trouble and a separation, was touched, and returned to be reconciled after an absence of twenty years.

At one evening service in Stanberry, Mo., the singing of the hymn by the leader of the choir led508 /448to the conversion of one boy who was present, and whose parents were that night praying for him in an eastern state, and inspired such earnest prayer in the hearts of two other runaway boys' parents that the same answer followed.

There would not be room in a dozen pages to record all the similar saving incidents connected with the singing of “Where Is My Wandering Boy?” The rhetoric of love is strong in every note and syllable of the solo, and the tender chorus of voices swells the song to heaven like an antiphonal prayer.

Strange to say, Dr. Lowry set lightly by his hymns and tunes, and deprecated much mention of them though he could not deny their success. An active Christian since seventeen years of age, through his early pulpit service, his six years' professorship, and the long pastorate in Plainfield, N.J., closed by his death, he considered preaching to be his supreme function as it certainly was his first love. Music was to him “a side-issue,” an “efflorescence,” and writing a hymn ranked far below making and delivering a sermon. “I felt a sort of meanness when I began to be known as a composer,” he said. And yet he was the author of a hymn and tune which “has done more to bring back wandering boys than any other” ever written.*

* “Where Is My Boy Tonight” was composed for a book of temperance hymns,The Fountain of Song, 1877.

This is the title and refrain of both Mrs. Ellen M.H. Gates' impressive poem and its tune.

O the clanging bells of Time!Night and day they never cease;We are weaned with their chime,For they do not bring us peace.And we hush our hearts to hear,And we strain our eyes to seeIf thy shores are drawing nearEternity! Eternity!

O the clanging bells of Time!

Night and day they never cease;

We are weaned with their chime,

For they do not bring us peace.

And we hush our hearts to hear,

And we strain our eyes to see

If thy shores are drawing near

Eternity! Eternity!

Skill was needed to vocalize this great word, but the ear of Mr. Bliss for musical prosody did not fail to make it effective. After the beautiful harmony through the seven lines, the choral reverently softens under the rallentando of the closing bars, and dwelling on the awe-inspiring syllables, solemnly dies away.

This rally-song of the Christian arena is wonderfully stirring, especially in great meetings, for it sings best in full choral volume.

The prize is set before us,To win His words implore us,The eye of God is o'er usFrom on high.His loving tones are fallingWhile sin is dark, appalling,'Tis Jesus gently calling;He is nigh!510 /450Chorus.By and by we shall meet Him,By and by we shall greet Him,And with Jesus reign in glory,By and by!We'll follow where He leadeth,We'll pasture where He feedeth,We'll yield to Him who pleadethFrom on high.Then nought from Him shall sever,Our hope shall brighten everAnd faith shall fail us never;He is nigh.Chorus—By and by, etc.

The prize is set before us,To win His words implore us,The eye of God is o'er usFrom on high.His loving tones are fallingWhile sin is dark, appalling,'Tis Jesus gently calling;He is nigh!

The prize is set before us,

To win His words implore us,

The eye of God is o'er us

From on high.

His loving tones are falling

While sin is dark, appalling,

'Tis Jesus gently calling;

He is nigh!

Chorus.By and by we shall meet Him,By and by we shall greet Him,And with Jesus reign in glory,By and by!

Chorus.

By and by we shall meet Him,

By and by we shall greet Him,

And with Jesus reign in glory,

By and by!

We'll follow where He leadeth,We'll pasture where He feedeth,We'll yield to Him who pleadethFrom on high.Then nought from Him shall sever,Our hope shall brighten everAnd faith shall fail us never;He is nigh.

We'll follow where He leadeth,

We'll pasture where He feedeth,

We'll yield to Him who pleadeth

From on high.

Then nought from Him shall sever,

Our hope shall brighten ever

And faith shall fail us never;

He is nigh.

Chorus—By and by, etc.

Dr. Christopher Ruby Blackall, the author of the hymn, was born in Albany, N.Y., Sept. 18, 1830. He was a surgeon in the Civil War, and in medical practice fifteen years, but afterwards became connected with the American Baptist Publication Society as manager of one of its branches. He has written several Sunday-school songs set to music by W.H. Doane.

By Horatio R. Palmer is exactly what the hymn demands. The range scarcely exceeds an octave, but with the words “From on high,” the stroke of the soprano on upper D carries the feeling to unseen summits, and verifies the title of the song. From that note, through melody and chorus the “Triumph by and by” rings clear.

This is emotional, but every word and note is uplifting, and creates the mood for religious impressions. The writer, Rev. John Bush Atchison, was born at Wilson, N.Y., Feb. 18, 1840, and died July 15, 1882.

I have read of a beautiful cityFar away in the kingdom of God,I have read how its walls are of jasper,How its streets are all golden and broad;In the midst of the street is Life's RiverClear as crystal and pure to behold,But not half of that city's bright gloryTo mortals has ever been told.

I have read of a beautiful city

Far away in the kingdom of God,

I have read how its walls are of jasper,

How its streets are all golden and broad;

In the midst of the street is Life's River

Clear as crystal and pure to behold,

But not half of that city's bright glory

To mortals has ever been told.

The chorus (twice sung)—

Not half has been told,

—concludes with repeat of the two last lines of this first stanza.

Mr. Atchison was a Methodist clergyman who composed several good hymns. “Behold the Stone is Rolled Away,” “O Crown of Rejoicing,” and “Fully Persuaded,” indicate samples of his work more or less well-known. “Not Half Has Ever Been Told” was written in 1875.

Dr. Otis F. Presbry, the composer, was a young farmer of York, Livingston Co., N.Y., born there the 20th of December, 1820. Choice of a512 /452professional life led him to Berkshire Medical College, where he graduated in 1847. In after years his natural love of musical studies induced him to give his time to compiling and publishing religious tunes, with hymns more especially for Sunday-schools.

He became a composer and wrote the melody to Atchison's words in 1877, which was arranged by a blind musician of Washington, D.C., J.W. Bischoff by name, with whom he had formed a partnership. The solo is long—would better, perhaps, have been four-line instead of eight—but well sung, it is a flight of melody that holds an assembly, and touches hearts.

Dr. Presbry's best known book wasGospel Bells(1883), the joint production of himself, Bischoff, and Rev. J.E. Rankin. He died Aug. 20, 1901.

One of the most characteristic (both words and music) of theGospel Hymns—“Mrs. James Gibson Johnson” is the name attached to it as its author, though we have been unable to trace and verify her claim.

O, word of words the sweetest,O, words in which there lieAll promise, all fulfillment,And end of mystery;Lamenting or rejoicing,With doubt or terror nigh,513 /453I hear the “Come” of Jesus,And to His cross I fly.Chorus.Come, come—Weary, heavy-laden, come, O come to me.

O, word of words the sweetest,

O, words in which there lie

All promise, all fulfillment,

And end of mystery;

Lamenting or rejoicing,

With doubt or terror nigh,

I hear the “Come” of Jesus,

And to His cross I fly.

Chorus.Come, come—Weary, heavy-laden, come, O come to me.

Chorus.

Come, come—

Weary, heavy-laden, come, O come to me.

Composed by James McGranahan, delivers the whole stanza in soprano or tenor solo, when the alto, joining the treble, leads off the refrain in duet, the male voices striking alternate notes until the full harmony in the last three bars. The style and movement of the chorus are somewhat suggestive of a popular glee, but the music of the duet is flexible and sweet, and the bass and tenor progress with it not in the ride-and-tie-fashion but marking timewiththe title-syllable.

The contrast between the spiritual and the intellectual effect of the hymn and its wakeful tune is illustrated by a case in Baltimore. While Moody and Sankey were doing their gospel work in that city, a man, who, it seems, had brought a copy of theGospel Hymns, walked out of one of the meetings after hearing this hymn-tune, and on reaching home, tore out the leaves that contained the song and threw them into the fire, saying he had “never heard such twaddle” in all his life.

The sequel showed that he had been too hasty. The hymn would not leave him. After hearing it night and day in his mind till he began to realize514 /454what it meant, he went to Mr. Moody and told him he was “a vile sinner” and wanted to know how he could “come” to Christ. The divine invitation was explained, and the convicted man underwent a vital change. His converted opinion of the hymn was quite as remarkably different. He declared it was “the sweetest one in the book.” (Story of the Gospel Hymns.)

The Rev. Mr. Brundage tells the origin of this hymn. In a sermon preached by him many years ago, the closing words were:

“He who is almost persuaded is almost saved, but to be almost saved is to be entirely lost.” Mr. Bliss, being in the audience, was impressed with the thought, and immediately set about the composition of what proved one of his most popular songs, deriving his inspiration from the sermon of his friend, Mr. Brundage.Memoir of Bliss.

Almost persuaded now to believe,Almost persuaded Christ to receive;Seems now some soul to say“Go Spirit, go thy way,Some more convenient dayOn Thee I'll call.”* * * * * *Almost persuaded—the harvest is past!

Almost persuaded now to believe,Almost persuaded Christ to receive;Seems now some soul to say“Go Spirit, go thy way,Some more convenient dayOn Thee I'll call.”

Almost persuaded now to believe,

Almost persuaded Christ to receive;

Seems now some soul to say

“Go Spirit, go thy way,

Some more convenient day

On Thee I'll call.”

* * * * * *

Almost persuaded—the harvest is past!

Both hymn and tune are by Mr. Bliss—and the omission of a chorus is in proper taste. This515 /455revival piece brings the eloquence of sense and sound to bear upon the conscience in one monitory pleading. Incidents in this country and in England related in Mr. Sankey's book, illustrate its power. It has a convicting and converting history.

This hymn was written by Miss Mary Augusta Lee one Sabbath day in 1860 at Bowmount, Croton Falls, N.Y., and first published in theNew York Observer, Dec, 1861. The authoress had been reading the story of John Macduff who, with his wife, left Scotland for the United States, and accumulated property by toil and thrift in the great West. In her leisure after the necessity for hard work was past, the Scotch woman grew homesick and pined for her “ain countree.” Her husband, at her request, came east and settled with her in sight of the Atlantic where she could see the waters that washed the Scotland shore. But she still pined, and finally to save her life, JohnMacdufftook her back to the heather hills of the mother-land, where she soon recovered her health and spirits.

I am far from my hame an' I'm weary aften whilesFor the langed-for hame-bringing an' my Father's welcome smiles.I'll ne'er be fu' content until mine eyes do seeThe shinin' gates o' heaven an' mine ain countree.The airt' is flecked wi' flowers mony-tinted, frish an' gay,The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them sae,516 /456But these sights an' these soun's will naething be to meWhen I hear the angels singin' in my ain countree.

I am far from my hame an' I'm weary aften whiles

For the langed-for hame-bringing an' my Father's welcome smiles.

I'll ne'er be fu' content until mine eyes do see

The shinin' gates o' heaven an' mine ain countree.

The airt' is flecked wi' flowers mony-tinted, frish an' gay,The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them sae,516 /456But these sights an' these soun's will naething be to meWhen I hear the angels singin' in my ain countree.

The airt' is flecked wi' flowers mony-tinted, frish an' gay,

The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them sae,

But these sights an' these soun's will naething be to me

When I hear the angels singin' in my ain countree.

Miss Lee was born in Croton Falls in 1838, and was of Scotch descent, and cared for by her grandfather and a Scotch nurse, her mother dying in her infancy. In 1870 she became the wife of a Mr. Demarest, and her married life was spent in Passaic, N.J., until their removal to Pasadena, Cal., in hope of restoring her failing health. She died at Los Angeles, Jan. 8, 1888.

Is an air written in 1864 in the Scottish style by Mrs. Ione T. Hanna, wife of a banker in Denver, Colo., and harmonized for choral use by Hubert P.Main in 1873. Its plaintive sweetness suits the words which probably inspired it. The tone and metre of the hymn were natural to the young author's inheritance; a memory of her grandfather's home-land melodies, with which he once crooned “little Mary” to sleep.

Sung as a closing hymn, “My ain countree” sends the worshipper away with a tender, unworldly thought that lingers.

Mrs. Demarest wrote an additional stanza in 1881 at the request of Mr. Main.

Some really good gospel hymns and tunes among those omitted in this chapter will cry out against the choice that passed them by. Others are of the more ephemeral sort, the phenomena517 /457(and the demand) of a generation. Carols of pious joy with inordinate repetition, choruses that surprise old lyrics with modern thrills, ballads of ringing sound and slender verse, are the spray of tuneful emotion that sparkles on every revival high-tide, but rarely leaves floodmarks that time will not erase. Religious songs of the demonstrative, not to say sensational, kind spring impromptu from the conditions of their time—and give place to others equally spontaneous when the next spiritual wave sweeps by. Their value lingers in the impulse their novelty gave to the life of sanctuary worship, and in the Christian characters their emotional power helped into being.

This hymn is of doubtful authorship, by some assigned to as late a date as 1680, and by others to the 13th century as one of the Latin poems of St. Bonaventura, Bishop of Albano, who was born at Bagnarea in Tuscany, A.D. 1221. He was a learned man, a Franciscan friar, one of the greatest teachers and writers of his church, and finally a cardinal. Certainly Roman Catholic in its origin, whoever was its author, it is a Christian hymn qualified in every way to be sung by the universal church.

Adeste, fidelesLaeti triumphantes,Venite, venite in Bethlehem;Natum videte Regem angelorum.519 /459Chorus.Venite, adoremus,Venite, adoremus!Venite, adoremus Dominum.

Adeste, fidelesLaeti triumphantes,Venite, venite in Bethlehem;Natum videte Regem angelorum.

Adeste, fideles

Laeti triumphantes,

Venite, venite in Bethlehem;

Natum videte Regem angelorum.

Chorus.Venite, adoremus,Venite, adoremus!Venite, adoremus Dominum.

Chorus.

Venite, adoremus,

Venite, adoremus!

Venite, adoremus Dominum.

This has been translated by Rev. Frederick Oakeley (1808–1880) and by Rev. Edward Caswall (1814–1878) the version of the former being the one in more general use. The ancient hymn is much abridged in the hymnals, and even the translations have been altered and modernized in the three or four stanzas commonly sung. Caswall's version renders the first line “Come hither, ye faithful,” literally construing the Latin words.

The following is substantially Oakeley's English of the “Adeste, fideles.”

O come all ye faithfulJoyful and triumphant,To Bethlehem hasten now with glad accord;Come and behold Him,Born the King of Angels.Chorus.O come, let us adore Him,O come, let us adore Him,O come, let us adore Him,Christ, the Lord.Sing choirs of angels,Sing in exultationThrough Heaven's high arches be your praises poured;Now to our God beGlory in the highest!O come, let us adore Him!520 /460Yea, Lord, we bless Thee,Born for our salvationJesus, forever be Thy name adored!Word of the FatherNow in flesh appearing;O come, let us adore Him!

O come all ye faithfulJoyful and triumphant,To Bethlehem hasten now with glad accord;Come and behold Him,Born the King of Angels.

O come all ye faithful

Joyful and triumphant,

To Bethlehem hasten now with glad accord;

Come and behold Him,

Born the King of Angels.

Chorus.O come, let us adore Him,O come, let us adore Him,O come, let us adore Him,Christ, the Lord.

Chorus.

O come, let us adore Him,

Christ, the Lord.

Sing choirs of angels,Sing in exultationThrough Heaven's high arches be your praises poured;Now to our God beGlory in the highest!O come, let us adore Him!

Sing choirs of angels,

Sing in exultation

Through Heaven's high arches be your praises poured;

Now to our God be

Glory in the highest!

O come, let us adore Him!

520 /460Yea, Lord, we bless Thee,Born for our salvationJesus, forever be Thy name adored!Word of the FatherNow in flesh appearing;O come, let us adore Him!

Yea, Lord, we bless Thee,

Born for our salvation

Jesus, forever be Thy name adored!

Word of the Father

Now in flesh appearing;

O come, let us adore Him!

The hymn with its primitive music as chanted in the ancient churches, was known as “The Midnight Mass,” and was the processional song of the religious orders on their way to the sanctuaries where they gathered in preparation for the Christmas morning service. The modern tune—or rather the tune in modern use—is the one everywhere familiar as the “Portuguese Hymn.” (Seepage 205.)

It was the winter wildWhile the Heavenly ChildAll meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies.Nature in awe of HimHad doffed her gaudy trimWith her great Master so to sympathize.* * * * * *No war nor battle soundWas heard the world around.The idle spear and shield were high uphung.The hooked chariot stoodUnstained with hostile blood,The trumpets spake not to the armed throng,And Kings sat still with awful eyeAs if they knew their Sovereign Lord was by.

It was the winter wildWhile the Heavenly ChildAll meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies.Nature in awe of HimHad doffed her gaudy trimWith her great Master so to sympathize.

It was the winter wild

While the Heavenly Child

All meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies.

Nature in awe of Him

Had doffed her gaudy trim

With her great Master so to sympathize.

* * * * * *

No war nor battle soundWas heard the world around.The idle spear and shield were high uphung.The hooked chariot stoodUnstained with hostile blood,The trumpets spake not to the armed throng,And Kings sat still with awful eyeAs if they knew their Sovereign Lord was by.

No war nor battle sound

Was heard the world around.

The idle spear and shield were high uphung.

The hooked chariot stood

Unstained with hostile blood,

The trumpets spake not to the armed throng,

And Kings sat still with awful eye

As if they knew their Sovereign Lord was by.

This exalted song—the work of a boy of scarcely twenty-one—is a Greek ode in form, of two521 /461hundred and sixteen lines in twenty-seven strophes. Some of its figures and fancies are more to the taste of the seventeenth century than to ours, but it is full of poetic and Christian sublimities, and its high periods will be heard in the Christmas hymnody of coming centuries, though it is not the fashion to sing it now.

John Milton, son and grandson of John Miltons, was born in Breadstreet, London, Dec. 9, 1608, fitted for the University in St. Paul's school, and studied seven years at Cambridge. His parents intended him for the church, but he chose literature as a profession, travelled and made distinguished friendships in Italy, Switzerland and France, and when little past his majority was before the public as a poet, author of the Ode to the Nativity, of a Masque, and of many songs and elegies. In later years he entered political life under the stress of his Puritan sympathies, and served under Cromwell and his successor as Latin Secretary of State through the time of the Commonwealth. While in public duty he became blind, but in his retirement composed “Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained.” Died in 1676.

In the old “Carmina Sacra” a noble choral (without name except “No war nor battle sound”) well interprets portions of the 4th and 5th stanzas of the great hymn, but replaces the line—

“The idle spear and shield were high uphung.”

—with the more modern and less figurative—

“No hostile chiefs to furious combat ran.”

Three stanzas are also added, by the Rev. H.O. Dwight, missionary to Constantinople. The substituted line, which is also, perhaps, the composition of Mr. Dwight, rhymes with—

“His reign of peace upon the earth began,”

—and as it is not un-Miltonic, few singers have ever known that it was not Milton's own.

Dr. John Knowles Paine, Professor of Music at Harvard University, and author of the Oratorio of “St. Peter,” composed a cantata to the great Christmas Ode of Milton, probably about 1868.

Professor Paine died Apr. 25, 1906.

It is worth noting that John Milton senior, the great poet's father, was a skilled musician and a composer of psalmody. The old tunes “York” and “Norwich,” in Ravenscroft's collection and copied from it in many early New England singing-books, are supposed to be his.

The Miltons were an old Oxfordshire Catholic family, and John, the poet's father, was disinherited for turning Protestant, but he prospered in business, and earned the comfort of a country gentleman. He died, very aged, in May, 1646, and his son addressed a Latin poem (“Ad Patrem”) to his memory.

This hymn of Charles Wesley, dating about 1730, was evidently written with the “Adeste Fideles” in mind, some of the stanzas, in fact, being almost like translations of it. The form of the two first lines was originally—

Hark! how all the welkin rings,“Glory to the King of Kings!”

Hark! how all the welkin rings,

“Glory to the King of Kings!”

—but was altered thirty years later by Rev. Martin Madan (1726–1790) to—

Hark! the herald angels singGlory to the new-born King!

Hark! the herald angels sing

Glory to the new-born King!

Other changes by the same hand modified the three following stanzas, and a fifth stanza was added by John Wesley—

Hail the heavenly Prince of Peace!Hail the Sun of Righteousness!Light and life to all He brings,Ris'n with healing in His wings.

Hail the heavenly Prince of Peace!

Hail the Sun of Righteousness!

Light and life to all He brings,

Ris'n with healing in His wings.

“Mendelssohn” is the favorite musical interpreter of the hymn. It is a noble and spirited choral from Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy's cantata, “Gott ist Licht.”

This inspirational lyric of Dr. Watts never grows old. It was written in 1719.

Joy to the world! the Saviour reigns!Let men their songs employWhile fields and floods, rocks, hills and plainsRepeat the sounding joy.

Joy to the world! the Saviour reigns!

Let men their songs employ

While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains

Repeat the sounding joy.

Dr. Edward Hodges (1796–1867) wrote an excellent psalm-tune to it which is still in occasional use, but the music united to the hymn in the popular heart is “Antioch,” an adaptation from Handel's Messiah. This companionship holds unbroken from hymnal to hymnal and has done so for sixty or seventy years; and, in spite of its fugue, the tune—apparently by some magic of its own—contrives to enlist the entire voice of a congregation, the bass falling in on the third beat as if by intuition. The truth is, the tune has become the habit of the hymn, and to the thousands who have it by heart, as they do in every village where there is a singing school, “Antioch” is “Joy to the World,” and “Joy to the World” is “Antioch.”

This fine hymn, so many years appearing with the simple sign “Cawood” or “J. Cawood” printed under it, still holds its place by universal welcome.

Hark! what mean those holy voicesSweetly sounding through the skies?Lo th' angelic host rejoices;Heavenly hallelujahs rise.Hear them tell the wondrous story,Hear them chant in hymns of joy,525 /465Glory in the highest, glory,Glory be to God on high!

Hark! what mean those holy voicesSweetly sounding through the skies?Lo th' angelic host rejoices;Heavenly hallelujahs rise.

Hark! what mean those holy voices

Sweetly sounding through the skies?

Lo th' angelic host rejoices;

Heavenly hallelujahs rise.

Hear them tell the wondrous story,Hear them chant in hymns of joy,525 /465Glory in the highest, glory,Glory be to God on high!

Hear them tell the wondrous story,

Hear them chant in hymns of joy,

Glory in the highest, glory,

Glory be to God on high!

The Rev. John Cawood, a farmer's son, was born at Matlock, Derbyshire, Eng., March 18, 1775, graduated at Oxford, 1801, and was appointed perpetual curate of St. Anne's in Bendly, Worcestershire. Died Nov. 7, 1852. He is said to have written seventeen hymns, but was too modest to publish any.

Dr. Dykes' “Oswald,” and Henry Smart's “Bethany” are worthy expressions of the feeling in Cawood's hymn. In America, Mason's “Amaland,” with fugue in the second and third lines, has long been a favorite.

This was written by Nahum Tate (1652–1715), and after two hundred years the church remembers and sings the song. Six generations have grown up with their childhood memory of its pictorial verses illustrating St. Luke's Christmas story.

While shepherds watched their flocks by night,All seated on the ground,The angel of the Lord came downAnd glory shone around.“Fear not” said he, for mighty dreadHad seized their troubled mind,“Glad tidings of great joy I bringTo you and all mankind.”

While shepherds watched their flocks by night,All seated on the ground,The angel of the Lord came downAnd glory shone around.

While shepherds watched their flocks by night,

All seated on the ground,

The angel of the Lord came down

And glory shone around.

“Fear not” said he, for mighty dreadHad seized their troubled mind,“Glad tidings of great joy I bringTo you and all mankind.”

“Fear not” said he, for mighty dread

Had seized their troubled mind,

“Glad tidings of great joy I bring

To you and all mankind.”

Modern hymnals have substituted “Christmas” and other more or less spirited tunes for Read's “Sherburne,” which was the first musical translation of the hymn to American ears. But, to show the traditional hold that the New England fugue melody maintains on the people, many collections print it as alternate tune. Some modifications have been made in it, but its survival is a tribute to its real merit.

Daniel Read, the creator of “Sherburne,” “Windham,” “Russia,” “Stafford,” “Lisbon,” and many other tunes characteristic of a bygone school of psalmody, was born in Rehoboth, Mass., Nov. 2, 1757. He publishedThe American Singing Book, 1785,Columbian Harmony, 1793, and several other collections. Died in New Haven, Ct., 1836.

Rev. Edmund Hamilton Sears, author of this beautiful hymn-poem, was born at Sandisfield, Berkshire Co., Mass., April 6, 1810, and educated at Union College and Harvard University. He became pastor of the Unitarian Church in Wayland, Mass., 1838. Died in the adjoining town of Weston, Jan. 14, 1876. The hymn first appeared in theChristian Registerin 1857.

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