l^/i^ I PUI^ 22 ISSO .CIL Crv ONE HUNDRED HYMNS YOU OUGHT TO KNOW •F ONE HAD A HUNDRED HYMNS IN HIS MEMORY, AND IF WITH EVERY CHANGING MOOD HE WAS ACCUSTOMED TO HAVE TO HIMSELF SOME SWEET DESCANT OF EXPERIENCE, HE WOULD NOT EASILY BE MADE UNHAPPY, NOR WOULD HE WANDER FAR FROM THE PATH OF RECTITUDE. — HENRY fTARD BEE CHER. One Hundred Hymns ITou Ought to Know EDITED BY HENRY F. COPE Chicago New York Toronto FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY London Edinburgh AUG 22 1990 Copyright, igo6 By FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY Cordial acknowledgment is tendered the editors of " The Chicago Tribune^' for permission to publish in permanent form this collection, which appeared first in that journal. THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. PREFACE FEW things in literature exert a greater power over us than good hymns ; they are to be counted as amongst the most potent factors in reHgious nurture. They are to very large numbers of people all that the Hebrew Psalms were to a smaller number. Religious truth, which in the form of syllogism or sermon would have filled to find welcome in the mind, has entered freely and been fully apprehended when presented in the form of the sentiment of hymns and on the wings of their metres. Many a heart, in the trying hour of fear or doubt, has suddenly discovered light on the way, — light radiating from some line or stanza of a hymn that had long lain in memory. The hymns of the English-speaking people have done more to mould their characters than all the sermons spoken or written. Did you ever find yourself repeating over and over a sentence from a book or a sermon, find such a sentence gradually working forward, as it were, from the margin of consciousness to the [vj focus of attention ? Not often. Yet how fre- quently have lines and stanzas of hymns thus stolen in on our field of thought, the same truth coming again and again in this manner and every time deepening its impression, its power over the mind and will, and increasing the facility of its entrance. Teachers of men, especially the teachers of the young, fully appreciate the importance of storing the mind with reserves of strength and soul nourishment, with aspirations that lift up the eyes of the heart and ideals that lead. In seeking these sources of soul strength the questions must often occur. First, where may one find them in their noblest and richest form ? and. Second, in what form will they find readiest admission to the mind and exert the largest and most lasting influ- ence ? There will be no hesitancy in answering the first by saying that nowhere are there greater riches of the life in the form of literature than in the Bible ; the second question finds answer, both in reason and experience, that the splendid literary riches of the Bible set into the form of our great hymns then find their easiest vehicle into the mind and have their greatest potency. Our hymns are but the old songs of the Hebrew, the aspirations, visions, passions, and inspirations of the great religious teachers resung, set again into the forms to which we are accustomed. Religious truth in the form of hymns is so highly valuable because the hymns are easily learned; they are associated usually with inspiring tunes, with melodies often that sing them back again and again to the mind, and because thus storing themselves in memory's treasury they come out automatically, perhaps, in some hour when the soul is feeling its spiritual poverty, a rich asset, to remind the soul of its yet greater unseen resources. We do well then, seeing the power of these hymns, to exercise no little care in the selection of those with which children and youth shall be- come familiar. This is that which has been in mind in the selection of these " Hymns You Ought to Know," the bringing together of at least one hundred of those hymns which may be counted of greatest worth and force on account of their power for spiritual nurture, for character determination. There must be always wide dif- ference of opinion as to what are the very best hymns. But there is certainly one safe test, viz., what hymns have, through a course of at least some time, shown themselves to be best capable of expressing the ideals and worship of the people, stirring their emotions and aspirations and strengthening their inner lives. The song which leaps into popularity and sweeps, whirlwind like, over the country may meet none of these requirements. But the song that the people sing year after year, that they sing in the hour of trial, in the quietude of evening, by the hearthside, in the cathedral — the song that is sung because it satisfies, strengthens, inspires, this is the one that all our people need to know. These, we are told, are the days when mate- [vH] rialism is eating the heart out of men, when the family altar stands neglected or overthrown in the rush for the office, when the eye ceases to look up. The outlook is not so dark as some who hide their faces would have us believe ; but it is a day when, by every power at our command, we need to bring the hearts of men back to things that are eternal ; back from their dust and toys to the deep things, the infinite and only satisfying. Into our fevered lives there needs to come often the voices of calm, the songs of the spirit; into our hearts we need to admit all we may find that will serve to remind us that the things seen are passing, the things unseen abiding, to bring us the strength to meet each day's strain. What, in this, can help more, leaving out of estimate the sources of our religious literature, than a collec- tion of the very best types of that form of religious literature which enters the mind most easily, stays longest, speaks clearest, and with largest character potency ? HENRY F. COPE. Chicago, 1906. [viiij ^■^ A- ■■"■ ^'-y'^d <^^^^-? ><2ju^i3 CONTENTS Abide with Me .... Angel's Song, The . Armies of the Ransomed, The Art Thou Weary Ascending King, The At the Door Awake, My Soul Battle Hymn of the Republic Bethlehem Better Life, The .... Blest Be the Tie That Binds Blind Man's Song, The Christmas Carol .... Christian's Glory, The . Come, Thou Almighty King Consecration Hymn, A . Consolation Consolation Content Coronation Cross of Christ, The Day of Rest Lyte . . . 153 Sears . 169 Alford. . . 185 Neale . . . H3 Wordsworth . 199 How . 17 Ken . . 95 Hozve . 191 Brooks ^73 Muhlenberg 21 Fawcett . 81 Matheson . 119 Wesley 181 Grigg . . 67 Anonymous 141 Havergal . 65 Moore . 9 Warner . 149 Baxter . 83 Perronet . 145 Bowring . ■ 51 Wordsworth 159 [ix] Disciple's Prayer, A . Easter Hymn Easter Hymn, An Ein Feste Burg Faith of Our Fathers Firm Foundation, The Fling Out the Banner Fount of Blessing, The Glory to Thee, My God God is Love . Gratitude . Green Hill Far Away, Tiie Guidance . Harvest Home Holy, Holy, Holy Jerusalem, My Happy H Jerusalem, the Golden Jesu, Dulce Memoria Jesus, Lover of My Soul Just As I Am Just For To-Day King of Love, The Lead, Kindly Light "Let There Be Light" Lord of All Being Love Divine . Love for God Love of God, The Messiah's Kingdom Messiah's Reign . Missionary Hymn, The Missionary Success . Bode . . . 189 Ellerton . lOI ffes/ey 103 Luther 151 Faber . 43 Anonymous 165 Doane . 15 Robinson . 73 Ken . . 125 Bowring . 133 Procter 123 Alexander 23 Williams . 37 Alford . 45 Heber . . 127 Montgomery 99 Bernard and Neale 175 Bernard of Clairvaux ' 31 Wesley 157 Elliott . . . 87 Wilberforce . 35 Baker . . . 61 Newman . 1 21 Marriott . 155 Holmes 93 Wesley . . ,83 Francis Xavier 13 Faber . 49 Watts . . . 91 Pope . . . 53 Heber . . . 167 Hastings . 131 l-l Morning Aspiration .... Morning Hymn, A . . . . My Faith Looks up to Thee Name Above All Others, The . National Hymn Nearer Home Nearer, My God, to Thee . New Year, The Ninety and Nine, The . Noble Army, The .... Onward, Christian Soldiers . One Foundation, The O, Sacred Head Our God, Our Help in Ages Past Our Master O, Worship the King Paradise Parting Prayer, A . . . . Perfect Peace Pilgrims of the Night, The . Providence Rescue the Perishing Resignation Retirement Rock of Ages Seeking to Serve Service of Man, The Shepherd Psalm, The Simple Way, The .... Soldiers of the Cross, The . "Star of the East" .... Still, Still with Thee ron Canifz . . 207 Kehle .... • J37 Palmer . 147 Newton • 41 Smith .... • 139 Cary .... . 89 Adams • 193 Doddridge . 59 Ckphane and Sankey 1 1 1 Heber .... • 171 Baring-Gould 201 Stone .... 197 Bernard of Clairvau^ i 205 Watts .... . 115 Whittier . . . 105 Grant .... 71 Faber .... 109 Faber .... • 75 Bickersteth . . 107 Faber .... . 187 Cowper 135 Crosby i'3 Hagenbach 163 Brown 39 Toplady . . . 1 1 Havergal . '9 North .... 55 Rous .... 63 Waring . . . . 195 Duffield . . . . 161 Heber 57 Stowe 29 [xij Sun of My Soul . Te Deum Laudamus Thv Will Be Done . . Keble .... Anonymous . Elliott .... • 177 . 129 To Our Fatherland . Traveler's H\inn, The f^on Zinzendorf . Addison • 91 25 Up Hill .... Vesper Hymn Voice of Jesus, The , . Rossetti . . . Lathbury . Bonar .... 33 11 79 Victorious Army, The How .... 203 Walking with God . Warrior's March, The Gladden . . . . Moultrie . . . . 85 47 Warrior's Song, The Wondrous Cross, The . Plumptre . . . . Watts 27 69 Way of Peace, The . . Whittier . . . . 179 [xii] ONE HUNDRED HYMNS YOU OUGHT TO KNOW [7] r^ HO MAS MOORE (Dublin, May 2S, ijjg — Bermuda, W. I. /., Feb. 26, iS^j), the celebrated Irish poet and singer of love songs, was also the writer of about thirty hyf?ins. These were published in 1816, and amojig them, under the title of ** Relief in Prayer,'' is found the beautiful hymn which is to-day so often sung on occasions of inourning. While few, if any, of Moore' s poems retain the place they once held in popular appreciation, and almost all his other hymns are forgotten, the comforting thought in this poem has given it a place of permanency along with the other great English hymns. [8] CONSOLATION V>iOME, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish ; Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel ; Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish, Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal. Joy of the desolate, light of the straying, Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure; Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying. Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure. Here see the Bread of Life ; see waters flowing Forth from the throne of God, pure from above ; Come to the feast of love ; come, ever knowing Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove. THOMAS MOORE j4uGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADT (Farnhaf7iy Surrey ^ England^ Nov. 4, 1 7 40 — London y Aug. 4, iJjS ) graduated from Trinity^ 'Dublin. After fourteen years in the English Episcopal 7ninistry, he left that church to becotne pastor of the French Cahi?iists. This universal hymn is found in almost as 7nany tongues as the Bible itself, probably over JOO. Mr. Gladstone translated it into Latin, Greek, and Italian. It is said that the brave General Stuart, wounded before Richmond, died with this hymn on his lips, and the same is related of the prince consort of England. When the London went down in the bay of Biscay in 1866 the last thing heard was the passengers singing " Rock of Ages'' Many changes have crept into this hymn, but the following is probably exactly as Top lady wrote it in I J J 6 : ROCK OF AGES R, .OCK of Ages, cleft for me ! Let me hide myself in thee ; Let the water and the blood. From thy wounded side that flowed, Be of sin the double cure; Cleanse me from its guilt and power. Not the labor of my hands Can fulfill the law's demands ; Could my zeal no respite know, Could my tears forever flow. All for sin could not atone ; Thou must save, and thou alone. Nothing in my hand I bring. Simply to thy cross I cling; Naked, come to thee for dress. Helpless, look to thee for grace ; Vile, I to the fountain fly. Wash me, Savior, or 1 die! While I draw this fleeting breath, When my eyelids close in death, When I soar to worlds unknown. See thee on thy judgment throne, Rock of Ages, cleft for me ! Let me hide myself in thee. AUGUSTUS M. TOPLADY Francis XAVIER (Navarre, Spain, April 7, 1^06 — Island of Sancian, Dec. 2, I^^2)y the famous Spanish ?7iissionary, the apostle to the Indians, and one of the founders of the Society of Jesus. He labored inces- santly in carrying the Gospel to many lands and died on his way to China. It is thought that he translated this hymn from the Spanish into the Latin. From the latter it was tratislated into English by Edward Caswall. [12] LOVE FOR GOD M Y God, I love thee, not because I hope for heaven thereby, Nor yet because, if I love not, I must forever die. Thou, O my Jesus, thou didst me Upon the cross embrace : For me didst bear the nails, and spear. And manifold disgrace. Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ, Should I not love thee well ? Not for the hope of winning heaven, Nor of escaping hell ; Not with the hope of gaining aught. Not seeking a reward ; But as thyself hast loved me, O ever-loving Lord ! So would I love thee, dearest Lord, And in thy praise will sing; Solely because thou art my God, And my eternal King. FRANCIS XAVIER ['3] ^s^'-^a^ii/ -/ HE Rev. George Washington Doane [Trenton, N. J., May 2'/, J^7QQ — Burlington, N. J ., April 2y, iS^g), Protestant Episcopal bishop of New 'Jer- sey, was a prolific writer and the author of a number of hytnns. His works of prose and poetry, in four volwnes, were published in i860. This jnissionary hymn was written at Riverside in 1 8 48. ['4] FLING OUT THE BANNER F LING out the banner ! Let it float Skyward and seaward, high and wide ; The sun, that lights its shining folds. The cross on which the Savior died. Fling out the banner ! Angels bend In anxious silence o'er the sign. And vainly seek to comprehend The wonder of the love divine. Fling out the banner ! Heathen lands Shall see from far the glorious sight, And nations crowding to be born Baptize their spirits in its light. Fling out the banner ! Sin sick souls, That sink and perish in the strife, Shall touch in faith its radiant hem, And spring immortal into life. Fling out the banner ! Let it float Skyward and seaward, high and wide ; Our glory, only in the cross ; Our only hope, the Crucified ! Fling out the banner ! Wide and high Seaward and skyward let it shine; Nor skill, nor might, nor merit ours ; We conquer only in that sign. GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE _ r.A ■< William walsham how, bishop of Bedford, was born at Shrewsbury, Eng- land, Dec. I J, 182J. His best work as a fninister of the Church of Efigland was done at Kidder}?tinster and later atnongst the destitute in the East End, London. Although he did not begin to publish his poetical compositions until he was well advajtced in years, his hytnns are already well known, a Jiumber of them being found in all the standard hyjnnals. In the Eng- lish church his songs for children have been acceptable. But in all lands the one given here is by far the most popular of all his com- positions. It is usually sinig to the tune of "St. Hilda." Its theme is beautifully illus- trated in Holman Hunt' s celebrated painting, " The Light of the World:' _ AT THE DOOR \J JESUS, thou art standing Outside the fast closed door. In lowly patience waiting To pass the threshold o'er; We bear the name of Christians, His name and sign we bear; O shame, thrice shame upon us, To keep him standing there ! O Jesus, thou art knocking; And lo ! that hand is scarred, And thorns thy brow encircle. And tears thy face have marred ; O love that passeth knowledge. So patiently to wait ; O sin that hath no equal. So fast to bar the gate. O Jesus, thou art pleading In accents meek and low — " I died for you, my children. And will ye treat me so ? " O Lord, with shame and sorrow We open now the door; Dear Savior, enter, enter. And leave us nevermore ! WILLIAM WALSHAM HOW [^7] IkfiSS HAVERGAL wrote more hymns which have attained wide popularity and give promise of permanency than any other woman writer. From the years of her childhood she had the gift of poetic expression. Her longer poems y all of which are of a religious character ^ are popular with the English people. This hymn was written in l8j2y and first published in a leaflet^ whence it found its way rapidly i?ito all the hymnals. [.8] SEEKING TO SERVE JL^ORD, speak to me, that I may speak In living echoes of thy tone ; As thou has sought, so let me seek Thy erring children, lost and lone. O, strengthen me, that while I stand Firm on the rock, and strong in thee, I may stretch out a loving hand To wrestlers with the troubled sea. O, teach me, Lord, that I may teach The precious things thou dost impart; And wing my words that they may reach The hidden depths of many a heart. O, give thine own sweet rest to me. That I may speak with soothing power A word in season, as from thee. To weary ones in needful hour. O, fill me with thy fullness. Lord, Until my very heart o'erflow In kindling thought and glowing word, Thy love to tell, thy praise to show. O, use me. Lord, use even me. Just as thou wilt, and when, and where. Until thy blessed face I see. Thy rest, thy joy, thy glory share. FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL ^ // [^9] '\v,. " -.^ *^^'l ®.<^-=* '^f .^^^•- --^ ' ' ,-^- V. •?-^''^ 1 HE Rev. Willia??i Augustus Muhlenberg (Philadelphia, Sept. i6, ijgO — New York, April 8y iSyj )y a noted Episcopalian iiiinister, especially distinguished for his work in founding St. Luke's Hospital in New Tork, is the author of several hymns. While this hymn usually is classified as suitable for occasions of J7iourni?igy its thought has made it popular as a song of aspiration at all times. Until recently it was not found in any hy?nnal ; but it now is coming into common use. [zo] THE BETTER LIFE JL WOULD not live alway; I ask not to stay Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way ; The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer. I would not live alway ; no, welcome the tomb ! Since Jesus hath lain there I dread not its gloom ; There sweet be my rest till he bid me arise. To hail him in triumph descending the skies. Who, who would live alway, away from his God? Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode. Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains. And the noontide of glory eternally reigns; Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Savior and brethren transported to greet ; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul. WILLIAM AUGUSTUS MUHLENBERG [-0 (i>C'V>;^^^f?^^1i^^^^^^^ ^' '^ y 77/5 gifted woman wrote many beautiful hymns. She intended thetn for the use of little children^ but some of thetn have become popular with adults. Mrs. Alexander was born in County Wicklow, Ireland^ in i8l8; she married Dr. William Alexander^ bishop of Derry ; she died Oct. I2y i8q^, at London- derry. Besides her hymns she wrote a niwiber of poemsy the best known of them all being " 2' he Burial of Moses,'* ["] THE GREEN HILL FAR AWAY JL HERE Is a green hill far away. Without a city wall, Where the dear Lord was crucified. Who died to save us all. We may not know, we cannot tell What pains he had to bear; But we believe it was for us He hung and suffered there. He died that we might be forgiven, He died to make us good, That we might go at last to heaven, Saved by his precious blood. There was no other good enough To pay the price of sin; He only could unlock the gate Of heaven, and let us in. O, dearly, dearly has he loved. And we must love him, too. And trust in his redeeming blood. And try his works to do. For there 's a green hill far away, Without a city wall. Where the dear Lord was crucified. Who died to save us all. CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER — '^^;>yrp/\ ^^ yOSEPH ADDISON (Milston, Wiltshire, England, May /, i6j2 — London, Jufie ij, J Jig), one of the greatest of all writers of English prose, was the author of five hy??jns, all of which have been considered worthy a place in the permanent songs of worship of the church. This hymn is said to have been composed on returning from a perilous voyage on the Medi- terranean in the year IJOO, but it was not published until twelve years later, when it ap- peared in "■ The Spectator " as part of an essay on the subject of " The Sea.'* [m] THE TRAVELER'S HYMN H, OW are thy servants blest, O Lord ! How sure is their defence ! Eternal wisdom is their guide, Their help, omnipotence. In foreign realms, and lands remote, Supported by thy care, Through burning climes they pass unhurt, And breathe in tainted air. When by the dreadful tempest borne High on the broken wave. They know thou art not slow to hear, Nor impotent to save. The storm is laid, the winds retire, Obedient to thy will ; The sea, that roars at thy command. At thy command is still. In midst of dangers, fears, and deaths. Thy goodness we '11 adore ; We '11 praise thee for thy mercies past. And humbly hope for more. Our life, while thou preserv'st that life. Thy sacrifice shall be ; And death, when death shall be our lot. Shall join our souls to thee. JOSEPH ADDISON ~1 1 HE Rev. Edward Hayes Plufnptre^ D.D. (London^ Aug. 6, 1821 — Wells, Feb. /, iSgiJf belongs to the school of modern hyfnn writers, his songs dealing with the living and the active. He was famed not only as a grace- ful preacher, but also as a writer of ?nany books. This hymn was written in 186^, for the Choir Festival of Peterborough Cathedral. It is the 77iost popular of all Dr. Plumptre' s hymns. [z6] THE WARRIOR'S SONG JVEJOICE, ye pure in heart ! Rejoice, give thanks, and sing ! Your glorious banner wave on high, The cross of Christ your King ! Still lift your standard high 1 Still march in firm array ! As warriors, through the darkness toil, Till dawns the golden day ! At last the march shall end ; The wearied ones shall rest ; The pilgrims find their Father's house, Jerusalem the blest. Then on, ye pure in heart ! Rejoice, give thanks, and sing ! Your glorious banner wave on high, The cross of Christ your King ! EDWARD HAYES PLUMPTRE [^7] ^>< ^ Harriet Elizabeth beecher STOWE (LitchfielcU Conn., June 14, 1811 — Hartford y Conn., July i, i8C-'" r-"4i,iiai,'t^i.-- ' "^ --'^ Y HE sister of Dante Gabriel Rossetti was born in London, Dec. 5, 18 JO, and died in the same city Dec. jOy iSg^. She was a lyric poet of a high order and a7nongst her verses are found many of a char filing simplicity, as well as others of simple devotion and aspiration. The song, with its quaint questions and answers, given here, perhaps hardly belongs in a collec- tion of hymns, for it has not attained any wide popularity or general use in the churches. Tet it so beautifully voices the hope, ojten silent and hidden, in all our hearts and comes so near to a song that all may sing, that it deserves to be one of the hymns we all know. [3^] UP HILL JL/OES the road wind up hill all the way ? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day ? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place ? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face ? You cannot miss that inn. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night ? Those who have gone before. Then must I knock, or call when just in sight ? They will not keep you standing at the door. Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak ? Of labor you shall find the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek ? Yea, beds for all who come. CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI [33] '■-•-^t^<^4. .M^.P- In the Church of St. Mary Woohioth, Londotiy there is this inscription : ^^"Johji Newton ^ clerk^ once an injidel and libertine^ a servant of slaves in Africa^ was, by the rich 7?iercy of our Lord and Savior, fesiis Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the faith he had long labored to destroy, near sixteen years at Olney, in Buck; and — years in this church." This is the brief autobiography of the man who wrote this hymn, which ranks among the best loved of all the songs of the Christian church. He was born in London 'July 24, J- 7 2^, and there he died on Dec. 24, iSoj . He wrote many other hymns, but had this been his only composition his name would never be forgotten. [40] THE NAME ABOVE ALL OTHERS H. OW sweet the name of Jesus sounds In a believer's ear ! It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, And drives away his fear. It makes the wounded spirit whole, And calms the troubled breast ; 'T is manna to the hungry soul. And to the weary rest. Dear name ! the rock on which I build, My shield and hiding-place, Mv never-failing treasury, filled With boundless stores of grace. Weak is the effort of my heart. And cold my warmest thought; But when I see thee as thou art, I '11 praise thee as I ought. Till then, I would thy love proclaim With every fleeting breath ; And may the music of thy name Refresh my soul in death. JOHN NEWTON [4'J ^^^Mi: jf HIS is another of Fabers great hymns which have become the possession of peoples of all com- munions. The spirited ?nanner in which this hymn is sung by great congregations seetns to ijidicate that the f re that burned in the martyrs' breasts has not died out entirely. Such hymns as this were popular in Kngland during the recent struggle for the freedo?n of the public schools from ecclesiastical control and frequently were sung at popular meetings as well as at religious services in the free churches. [42] FAITH OF OUR FATHERS 1? AITH of our fathers ! living still In spite of dungeon, fire, and sword; O how our hearts beat high with joy Whene'er we hear that glorious word ! Faith of our fathers ! holy faith ! We will be true to thee till death! Our fathers, chained in prisons dark, Were still in heart and conscience free ; How sweet would be their children's fate. If they, like them, could die for thee ! Faith of our fathers ! holy faith! We will be true to thee till death ! Faith of our fathers ! we will love Both friend and foe in all our strife : And preach thee, too, as love knows how, By kindly words and virtuous life: Faith of our fathers ! holy faith ! We will be true to thee till death ! FREDERICK W. FABER r. /f/jS jo;/^ ynight well be called the " Thanks- giving Hymn'' ofthe English people. It was written in 1 8 44 by the Rev. He?iry Alford, D. D. (London, Oct. "/, 18 10 — Canterbury, yafi. 12, l8j I ). He was then dean of Canterbury cathedral, a post which he held until his death. Alford is well knowji, both as a preacher and a writer. His " Greek Testa?nent " was for many years a standard work. He is also the author of several fne hymns. In English churches this hyjnn is always sung at the harvest hofne services, which correspond to our Thanksgivi?2g day gatherings. It has also come into com?non use in the church services on our national day of praise. It is usually sung to the tune of ^^St. George,'* com- posed by George f. Elvery. _ HARVEST HOME V>iOME, ye thankful people, come, Raise the song of harvest home ! All is safely gathered in, Ere the winter storms begin : God, our Maker, doth provide For our wants to be supplied : Come to God's own temple, come, Raise the song of harvest home. We ourselves are God's own field. Fruit unto his praise to yield ; Wheat and tares together sown Unto joy or sorrow grown ; First the blade, and then the ear ; Then the full corn shall appear; Lord of harvest ! grant that we Wholesome grain and pure may be. For the Lord our God shall come. And shall take his harvest home ; From his field shall purge away All that doth offend that day ; Give his angels charge at last In the fire the tares to cast ; But the fruitful ears to store In his garner evermore. DEAN HENRY ALFORD -•-, ' ,-->, *,j -j^ J. HE Rev. Gerald Moultrie (London^ Eng- landy Dec. j/, I^gg — Rugby, Dec. 20y l8y4)y a graduate of Trinity , Cambridge , and the rector, during the years of his ministry, of Rugby, was the writer of a number of poems of a high literary value and beauty. This pro- cessional hymn was published in iSdj . It is a good example of the new type of church songs in which service, activity, and the militant ideas are expressed. To the setting of Baniby's tu?ie, " Great Heart,** it is sung, as the ope?iing hymn frequently, while it is one of the 7nost popular processiofials in university and college services. [46] THE WARRIOR'S MARCH Wi E march, we march to victory, With the cross of the Lord before us, With his loving eye looking down from the sky, And his holy arm spread o'er us. We come in the might of the Lord of light, A joyful host to meet him : And we put to flight the armies of night. That the sons of the day may greet him. We march, we march to victory. With the cross of the Lord before us. With his loving eye looking down from the sky, And his holy arm spread o'er us. Our sword is the spirit of God on high. Our helmet is his salvation. Our banner, the cross of Calvary, Our watchword, the Incarnation. And the choir of angels with song awaits Our march to the golden Zion ; For our captain has broken the brazen gates, And burst the bars of iron. Then onward we march, our arms to prove. With the banner of Christ before us. With his eye of love looking down from above, And his holy arm spread o'er us. .(]■ GERALD MOULTRIE Jl^ \ O^ fi'* ^s:v A ■r\ .' .-> ^ •-.■ Frederick william faber (l8l4-l86j)y the devout Catholic and head of the Brompton Oratory y was the author of many fine hymns of devotion. As a student he dis- tinguished himsef at Balliol^ Oxford^ whence he was graduated i?i l8j6, and his en- thusiastiCy poetic tempera7nent made hitn a marked ?}ian all through his life. For a time he was a rector in the Efiglish churchy but in 1846 he gave hi?nself to the Roman Catholic church and became one of its most conspicuous figures in London. In no song of worship is there a more catholic spirit than in this one ; doubtless this accounts for its phenomenal leap into popularity. At first the theologians looked askance upon it^ but the people found it and insisted on its place in all the hymnals and its frequent use in public worship. — THE LOVE OF GOD Ti HERE'S a wideness in God's mercy Like the wideness of the sea ; There's a kindness in his justice, Which is more than liberty. There is plentiful redemption In the blood that has been shed; There is joy for all the members In the sorrows of the Head. Was there ever kindest shepherd Half so gentle, half so sweet As the Savior who would have us Come and gather round his feet? It is God; his love looks mighty, But is mightier than it seems ; 'Tis our Father; and his fondness Goes far out beyond our dreams. For the love of God is broader Than the measure of man's mind; And the heart of the Eternal Is most wonderfully kind. If our love were but more simple. We should take him at his word ; And our lives would be all sunshine In the sweetness of our Lord. FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER, D.D. / [49] &7 " --~X' . .- Sir JOHN BOJVRING, the author of many beautiful hymns^ is said to have known over one hundred different tongues and to have been able to coiiverse in ma7iy of them. He translated into Knglish the folk-lore and songs of tnany nations. His best known hymn is given here. It was published in his collection of hymns in 1828 , and has maintained a wide popularity ahnost ever since, beijig an especial favorite in young people' s tyieetings. Perhaps it owes its place in no small measure to the tu?ie ** Rathbrniy' cotjiposed by I. Conkey. [50] THE CROSS OF CHRIST I N the cross of Christ I glory, Towering o'er the wrecks of time ; All the light of sacred story Gathers round its head sublime. When the woes of life o'ertake me, Hopes deceive, and fears annoy. Never shall the cross forsake me : Lo ! it glows with peace and joy. When the sun of bliss is beaming Light and love upon my way. From the cross the radiance streaming. Adds new lustre to the day. Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure. By the cross are sanctified ; Peace is there, that knows no measure, Joys that through all time abide. In the cross of Christ I glory. Towering o'er the wrecks of time ; All the light of sacred story Gathers round its head sublime. SIR JOHN BOWRING _ fc<3 ^fy<^>^t^JL^- '^^j^^-'^'^ g^=#^M. . ^;:^'^"4'^.^K-^^''»^4^ Mart Artemisia lathburt was born in the little village of Manchester, Orleans County, N. T., Aug. lo, 1841. She has given a large part of her life to writing hymns and to religions interests. At the re- quest of Bishop fohn H. Vincent she wrote the first two verses of this hymn for use at the evening gatherings at the Chautauqua assem- bly, ill 1880. Since then it has been known to all who have participated iji those vesper ser- vices as their favorite evening hymn. Stanzas three and four were added by the author quite recently. The hymn has won for itself a place in the front rank in a remarkably short ti?ne. It should be sung to the impressive tune *^ Evening Praise^' by Sherwin. [76] VESPER HYMN D 'AY is dying in the west ; Heaven is touching earth with rest; Wait and worship while the night Sets her evening lamps alight Through all the sky. CHORUS Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts ! Heaven and earth are full of thee ! Heaven and earth are praising thee, O Lord most high ! Lord of life, beneath the dome Of the universe, thy home. Gather us who seek thy face To the fold of thy embrace. For thou art nigh. While the deepening shadows fall. Heart of love, enfolding all. Through the glory and the grace Of the stars that veil thy face Our hearts ascend. When forever from thy sight Pass the stars, the day, the night, Lord of angels, on our eyes Let eternal morning rise And shadows end. MARY ARTEMISIA LATHBURY C'-^~''^'-'^-^^'>'oSX> ^^^^>'-^s( V'>^^"'>-i=*C " V HORATIUS BONAR (Edinburgh Dec. jg, 1808 — 'July ji, i88g) ranks next to Watts and Wesley in the nu7nber of his living hymns and in their popularity. His life was passed as a Presbyterian minister at Kelso and at Edinburgh. In the latter city his work resembled that of Bee c her in this country. It is a singular fact that, while he wrote most of his hymns for his Sunday-school, they were not per?nitted to be sung in his own church services. But the rest of the world readily took them upy and now it is hard to find a hyjnnal without twenty or thirty of his hymns. The tune '-^Vox Dilecti'' was especially written for this hyf?in ; it carries out, in a striking manner, the contrast between the first and the second halves of each stanza. — THE VOICE OF JESUS X HEARD the voice of Jesus say — " Come unto me and rest ; Lay down, thou weary one, lay down Thy head upon my breast ! " I came to Jesus as I was. Weary and worn and sad ; I found in him a resting-place, And he hath made me glad. I heard the voice of Jesus say — " Behold, I freely give The living water ; thirsty one. Stoop down, and drink, and live 1 " I came to Jesus, and I drank Of that life-giving stream ; My thirst was quenched, my soul revived. And now I live in him. I heard the voice of Jesus say — " I am this dark world's light ; Look unto me, thy morn shall rise. And all thy day be bright !" I looked to Jesus, and I found In him my Star, my Sun ; And in that light of life I '11 walk. Till travelling days are done. HORATIUS BONAR JOHN FAWCETT (Lidget Green, York- shire, EnglaJid, Jan. 6, f/JQ — Wainsgate, 'July 2^, iSiy )y an E?iglish Baptist pastor, was the author of several beautiful hymns. It is said that, in IJJ2, after he had served the little congregatiofi at Wains gate for some years, living on a stnall salary, he decided to accept a call to an important church in London. He packed his goods and prepared to leave. But his affection for his people led him to recall his acceptance and to re?nain with them. On that occasion he wrote this hynin. He little knew that he was writing a hymn that would be sung in many lands and at almost all times of part- ing and of reunion. [80] BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS LEST be the tie that binds Our hearts in Christian love ; The fellowship of kindred minds Is like to that above. Before our Father's throne We pour our ardent prayers ; Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one. Our comforts and our cares. We share our mutual woes. Our mutual burdens bear; And often for each other flows The sympathizing tear. When we asunder part, It gives us inward pain ; But we shall still be joined in heart, And hope to meet again. This glorious hope revives Our courage by the way ; While each in expectation lives And longs to see the day. From sorrow, toil, and pain, And sin, we shall be free, And perfect love and friendship reign Through all eternity. JOHN FAWCETT, D.D _ Richard Baxter (Rowton, shrop- shire y England, Nov. 12, l6l^ — London, Dec. 8, l6gi ), one of the first great Noncon- formists, the author of " The Saint's Rest,'' had a checkered career in the days of Cromiscell and Charles. He is represented in the iv or ship of the churches to-day by this one hymn, 'which must be counted as one of the earliest of the modern type of church hy?nn. Perhaps it is not very popular to-day; but is well ivorth knowing both as a type of hyjnn and as a poetic setting of a faith that is good for any age. [82] CONTENT i^ORD, It belongs not to my care Whether I die or live ; To love and serve thee is my share. And this thy grace must give. If life be long, I will be glad That I may long obey ; If short, yet why should I be sad To soar to endless day ? Christ leads me through no darker rooms Than he went through before; He that into God's kingdom comes Must enter by this door. Come, Lord, when grace hath made me meet Thy blessed face to see ; For, if thy work on earth be sweet. What will thy glory be ? My knowledge of that life is small ; The eye of faith is dim ; But 't is enough that Christ knows all. And I shall be with him. RICHARD BAXTER M"^ I HE Rev. Washington Gladden, D.D.( Pitts- grove, Pa., Feb. ii, i8j6), is the pastor of the principal Congregational church in Columbus, O., and at present the president of the Ameri- can Missionary association. He was educated at Williams College, graduating in l8^g. As the editor of the " New York Independejit " and of the *^ Sunday Afternoon,'' and as a writer of religious books he has become well known, while his ca?}ipaign against the acceptance of " tainted inoney " 7nade Jiiju yet more widely known. This hymn appeared in ^^ Sunday Afternoon " in March, i8jg. In view of the ti??ie usually fiecessary for a hy?nn to come into general use, ** Walking with God'' has attained a remark- able degree of popularity ; it undoubtedly be- lotigs already in the ranks of the standard favorite hymns. WALKING WITH GOD o MASTER, let me walk with thee In lowly paths of service free; Tell me thy secret; help me bear The strain of toil, the fret of care. Help me the slow of heart to move By some clear winning word of love ; Teach me the wayward feet to stay. And guide them in the homeward way. Teach me thy patience ! still with thee In closer, dearer company. In work that keeps faith sweet and strong, In trust that triumphs over wrong. In hope that sends a shining ray Far down the future's broadening way ; In peace that only thou canst give. With thee, O Master, let me live. WASHINGTON GLADDEN [85] \,*i ^ \ cT-^' '^■-^■'•^ ^^'f^if^^^y^'^^ ■^v^^>■^^*l^ . ?^ iT ' Charlotte elliott (Brighton, England y March i8, ijSg — Brighton, Sept. 22, 187 1 )y is the greatest of British female hyj7in writers, having to her credit, in all, one hundred and fifty hymns, the greater nufnber of which are recognized as stajidard. Yet she was all her life ahiiost an invalid, spending her days in quiet literary work in the south of Eng- land and on the Continent. Without question this is the greatest of all the special evangelistic hymns. The stories told of its power over the mind and heart are innumerable. [86] JUST AS I AM J UST as I am, without one plea, But that thy blood was shed for me. And that thou bidd'st me come to thee, O Lamb of God, I come ! Just as I am, and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot, To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come ! Just as I am, though tossed about With many a conflict, many a doubt. Fightings within, and fears without, O Lamb of God, I come ! Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind ; Sight, riches, healing of the mind. Yea, all I need, in thee I find, O Lamb of God, I come ! Just as I am, thou wilt receive. Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve; Because thy promise I believe, O Lamb of God, I come ! Just as I am, thy love unknown Hath broken every barrier down ; Now, to be thine, yea, thine alone, O Lamb of God, I come ! CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT 1 HE sisters Alice and Phcche Cary were well known to an earlier generation for their literary work, chiefy of a poetical character. Phoebe was born fiear Cincinnati, Sept. 24, 1826 ; afterwards she removed to New York. She died at Newport, R. I., July ji, i8jl. This is the only example of her work found in the hymn books a?id even this was not written for a hymn. It appeared as a poem in a very different form in l8^2 and the present metre was not adopted until i86g. Since then the song has been very generally used and counted as a favorite both for church services and for home and itidividual use. [88] NEARER HOME o NE sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o'er and o'er, — I am nearer home to-day Than I ever have been before. Nearer my Father's house. Where the many mansions be ; Nearer the great white throne ; Nearer the crystal sea ; Nearer the bound of hfe, Where we lay our burdens down ; Nearer leaving the cross ; Nearer gaining the crown. But the waves of that silent sea Roll dark before my sight, That brightly the other side Break on a shore of light. O if my mortal feet Have almost gained the brinl:., If it be I am nearer home Even to-day than I think. Father, perfect my trust ; Let my spirit feel in death That her feet are firmly set On the rock of a living faith. PHCEBE GARY 1 HIS is another example of the splendid work accomplished by the great poet of the early period of English hymnody in paraphrasing the Psalms. Tie here gives us his version of the Seventy-Second Psalm. Among all the mis- sionary hymns which have obtained wide cur- rency this is by far the best known and the best liked in the churches and by the people who are the results of missionary effort. It has been translated into almost every tongue it! to which Christianity has gone. It was sung at the great gathering of converts froju the islands of Sai?ioa, Tonga, and Fiji, in l862y when these people forrnally renoiuiced their old faith for the new. [90] MESSIAH'S KINGDOM J ESUS shall reign where'er the sun Does his successive journeys run; His kingdom spread from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more. From north to south the princes meet To pay their homage at his feet ; While western empires own their Lord And savage tribes attend his word. To him shall endless prayer be made. And endless praises crown his head ; His name like sweet perfume shall rise With every morning sacrifice. People and realms of every tongue Dwell on his love with sweetest song, And infant voices shall proclaim Their early blessings on his name. Let every creature rise and bring Peculiar honors to our King ; Angels descend with songs again. And earth repeat the loud Amen. ISAAC WATTS [91] '^^^^% "^K Oliver wendell holmes (Cambridge, Mass., Aug. 2g, l8og — Oct. /, l8g4)y professor in Harvard Medical School, is well known as an essayist, poet, and novelist. One year after his graduation from Harvard he fairly leaped into fatne with his poem, " Old Ironsides.'* He is best known to-day for his series of essays. The hyjnn given here is always a favorite in gatherings of people of different denomijiations and creeds. It beautifully expresses aspiration and worship, and, at the same time, admits of the widest doctrinal divergencies. No other tune seems to suit this hymn quite so well as ^^ Louvan,'* by V. C. Taylor. [9-] LORD OF ALL BEING JL/ORD of all being; throned afar, Thy glory flames from sun and star; Center and soul of every sphere. Yet to each loving heart how near ! Sun of our life, thy quickening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day ; Star of our hope, thy softened light Cheers the long watches of the night. Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn ; Our noontide is thy gracious dawn ; Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign ; All, save the clouds of sin, are thine ! Lord of all life, below, above. Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love. Before thy ever blazing throne We ask no luster of our own. Grant us thy truth to make us free, And kindling hearts that burn for thee. Till all thy living altars claim One holy light, one heavenly flame ! OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES jicCORDING to the ''Anglican Hyfn- nology^' which is a seffii-qfficial estimate of the popularity of church hymns ^ Bishop Ken has two titles to his credit amongst the ten greatest songs of worship. His evening cojjiposition, " All Praise to Thee, My God, This Night," ranks fr St of all, and ''Awake, My Soul,'' is given the sixth place. He wrote both these hymns while in his charge at Winchester, the scene of his early education. At his own request the good bishop was buried under the east window of the chancel at Fro??ie Selwood, being interred just at sunrise, while those gath- ered about the grave sang, " Awake, My Soul, and with the Sun.'' [9+] A WA KE, MY SOUL A' .WAKE, my soul, and with the sun Thy daily stage of duty run ; Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise To pay thy morning sacrifice. Awake, lift up thyself, my heart. And with the angels bear thy part. Who all night long unwearied sing High praises to th' eternal King. Glory to thee, who safe hast kept. And hast refreshed me while I slept ; Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake, I may of endless life partake. Lord, I my vows to thee renew : Scatter my sins as morning dew ; Guard my first springs of thought and will. And with thyself my spirit fill. Direct, control, suggest, this day. All I design, or do, or say ; That all my powers, with all my might. In thy sole glory may unite. BISHOP THOMAS KEN [95] ■^ ■ 4- J Nicolas LUDWIG, count von Zinze?i- dorf (Dresden^ May 26 ^ I J 00 — Hernhutt^ May g, lj6o), is said to have written two tJjousand hyinns, improvising no small number of them, frequently giving the people a hymn to close the service immediately after preaching on its subject. He was educated at Witten- berg and becajne a bishop of the Moravian church. He visited the United States duri?ig a tifne of persecution in Saxony. Some of his hymns translated by John Wesley and others are amofigst the best hiown in the English to-day. This one, e?ititled at ho?ne " fesu gehy voran^'' is translated by Miss fane Borth- wick. U. C. Burnap wrote a very good tune for it. [96] TO OUR FATHERLAND Jesus, stlll lead on, Till our rest be won ; And although the way be cheerless. We will follow calm and fearless ; Guide us by thy hand To our Fatherland. If the way be drear. If the foe be near, Let not faithless fear o'ertake us, Let not faith and hope forsake us ; For, through many a foe, To our home we go. When we seek relief From a long-felt grief. When temptations come, alluring. Make us patient and enduring, Show us that bright shore. Where we weep no more. Jesus, still lead on. Till our rest be won ; Heavenly Leader, still direct us, Still support, console, protect us, • Till we safely stand In our Fatherland. COUNT VON ZINZENDORF [97] J^ AMES MONTGOMERT (Ayrshire, Scotland^ Nov. ^, lyyi — Sheffield, England, April JO, 18^4 Jy editor, publisher, and poet, was the author of over four hundred hymns. He is the one layman, beside Cowper, ivho has attained fa7?ie as the writer of a hymn be- longing in the front rank. As an editor he was an ardent reformer, and this cost him fines and if?jprison??ient many times; but his fatne as a poet led the government to grant him an annual pension in his later years. In Dr. Benson's list of the best church hymns this one is given the tenth place. Its popularity is great in every land, and it has not only become a standard church hymn, but, set to many bright tunes, it is a favorite in religious meetings of all kinds. JERUSALEM, MY HAPPY HOME J ERUSALEM, my happy home. Name ever dear to me ! When shall my labors have an end, In joy and peace and thee? When shall these eyes thy heaven built walls And pearly gates behold ? Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, And streets of shining gold ? There happier bowers than Eden's bloom. Nor sin nor sorrow know. Blest seats ! thro' rude and stormy scenes I onward press to you. Why should I shrink at pain and woe. Or feel at death dismay ? I 've Canaan's goodly land in view. And realms of endless day. Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there Around my Savior stand ; And soon my friends in Christ below Will join the glorious band. Jerusalem, my happy home 1 My soul still pants for thee : Then shall my labors have an end. When I thy joys shall see. JAMES MONTGOMERY >>- 1 HE Rev. John Ellerton (London^ Dec. i6y 1826 — White Roding, i8gj) is the author of a iiumber of the f)iost stately of our familiar modern hytJins. He was a clergyman of the English Episcopal church, educated at Trinity , Cambridge, spendifig his life in quiet country churches and writijig these beautiful hymns. This Easter hy??in he gave to the public in 1868 as a rendering of the ^^ Salve, festa dies'* of Fortunatus. The old Latin version is the one which ferojne of Prague is said to have sung on his way to death at the stake. The English version, by Ellerton ^ will probably be sung on Easter Sunday morning in almost every church all over the world wherever that tongue is spoken. [ 100] EASTER HYMN Wi ELCOME, happy morning! Age to age shall say Hell to-day is vanquished, heaven is won to-day ! Lo ! the dead is living, Lord for evermore ! Him, their true Creator, all his works adore ! Maker and Redeemer, life and health of all. Thou, from heaven beholding human nature's fall, Of the Father's godhead true and only son, Manhood to deliver, manhood didst put on. Thou, of life the author, death did undergo. Tread the path of darkness, saving strength to show. Come, then, true and faithful, now fulfill thy word ; 'T is thine own third morning; rise, O buried Lord. Loose the souls long prisoned, bound with Satan's chain ; All that now is fallen raise to life again ; Show thy face in brightness, bid the nations see, Bring again our daylight ; day returns with thee ! JOHN ELLERTON [lOl] 1 HIS hymn of the Resurrect ion y by Charles Wesley y has taken its place with the foremost hymns of the church on this subject. It is found in practically all the hyttinalsy and has been ranked^ both on popularity and on intrinsic merity among the best twenty-five hy??ins of Christendom. It is sung in a great many churches all over the world on the morning of Easter day, and most frequently in the form given herCy to the tune written by f . Worgan and entitled " Easter Hymn^ [ 1°^] AN EASTER HYMN c HRIST, the Lord, is risen to-day; Hallelujah ! Sons of men and angels say: Hallelujah ! Raise your joys and triumphs high : Hallelujah ! Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply : Hallelujah ! Love's redeeming work is done, Fought the fight, the battle won : Lo ! our sun's eclipse is o'er; Lo ! he sets in blood no more. Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, Christ hath burst the gates of hell : Death in vain forbids him rise, Christ hath opened paradise. Lives again our glorious king : Where, O death, is now thy sting? Once he died, our souls to save : Where thy victory, O grave ? Soar we now where Christ hath led. Following our exalted head : Made like him, like him we rise : Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. CHARLES WESLEY [103] %m^'J^ ^^^Btk^^l^, V;7 i^:— ^- 7 OHAT HENRT NEWMAN (London, Feb. 21 y 1 80 1 — Edgbaston, Aug. 11, 1 8 go), well known as a writer and an ecclesiastic, has yet found far greater fame as the author of this single hytnn. He was educated at Ealing and at Trinity, Oxford, and in 1824. was ordained to the ministry in the English church. Twenty-one years later, after a long period of stress of mind and conflict with doubt, he went into the Church of Rome. A particularly trying time of religious perplexity led to the writing of this hytnn, which was first published as a poem, under the title " Light in Darkness'' Born of such ati ex- perience, it has become the hymn 7iot only of those who wander in religious unrest, but of all who are in darkness of any kind. It is com- monly sung to the tune, ** Lux Benigna,'' by J. B. Dykes. [120] ■' LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT L 'EAD, kindly light ! amid th' encircling gloom, Lead thou me on ; The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead thou me on ; Keep thou my feet ; I do not ask to see The distant scene ; one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou Shouldst lead me on ; I loved to choose and see my path ; but now Lead thou me on ; I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years. So long thy power has blessed me, sure it still Will lead me on O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone ; And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile ! •'■^ CARDINAL JOHN HENRY NEWMAN [121] Adelaide anne Procter (Lo7idon, Oct. JO, 182^ — Feb. 2y 1864), the daughter of " Barry Cornwall,'' the poet and dramatist, is the author of " The Lost Chord,' and also of several beautiful and sympathetic hy?nns. She spent 7nuch of her life in philanthropic service, particularly de- lighting in writing songs and poems to be sold for the benefit of charitable causes. Toward the end of her life she beca?ne a Roman Cath- olic, and seemed fairly to wear herself away in religious service. This hymn may be counted as one of the new hy??ms of the church, but it is rapidly growing in favor. [122] GRATITUDE M ,Y God, I thank thee, who hast made The earth so bright, So full of splendor and of joy. Beauty, and light ; So many glorious things are here. Noble and right. I thank thee more that all our joy Is touched with pain, That shadows fall on brightest hours. That thorns remain ; So that earth's bliss may be our guide. And not our chain. I thank thee. Lord, that thou hast kept The best in store ; We have enough, yet not too much To long for more : A yearning for a deeper peace Not known before. I thank thee. Lord, that here our souls. Though amply blest. Can never find, although they seek, A perfect rest, Nor ever shall until they lean On Jesus' breast. ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Thomas KENfBerkhampstead, England, July, idjy — Longleat, March ig, lyil), the fearless bishop of Bath in the days of Charles II, was the earliest of the great Eng- lish hymn writers. His " Evening Hymn " and his ^^ Morning Hymn " are familiar to all Christian congregations, and the former ranks as one of the four greatest hymfis, according to an exhaustive test recently conducted. The *^ Evening Hymn" is, however, especially inter- esting in that it contai?is the verse which is sung fnore frequently and by more people than any other single selection; this is the last verse, commonly known as ^^ the long metre do xo logy." It is used in churches of every creed except the Unitarian, and in every tongue, and has been appropriated by faiths other than Christiaji. [124] GLORY TO THEE, MY GOD VJLORY to thee, my God, this night, For all the blessings of the light; Keep me, O, keep me. King of kings ! Beneath thine own almighty wings. Forgive me. Lord, for thy dear Son, The ill which I this day have done ; That with the world, myself, and thee, I, ere 1 sleep, at peace may be. Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed : Teach me to die, that so I may Rise glorious at the judgment day. O, let my soul on thee repose. And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close ! Sleep, which shall me more vigorous make. To serve my God when I awake. Praise God, from whom all blessings flow ! Praise him all creatures here below ! Praise him above, ye heavenly host ! Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! BISHOP THOMAS KEN JN even the smallest collection of standard hymns there would certainly be several by Reg- inald Heber ( England y f/Sj — India ^ 1826), the author of " Greenland' s Icy Mountains'' By many authorities the hymn given here is thought to be his finest piece of work, and in the services of the churches of all denominations it takes high rank. In fact, in a large nu?nber of them the first verse is invariably used as the openi?ig note of praise Sunday mornings. It is always sung to the tune ^^Nicea,' written expressly for it by Dr. f. B. Dykes. [1.6] H O LY, H O LY, HOLY rloLY, holy, holy ! Lord God Almighty ! Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee ; Holy, holy, holy ! merciful and mighty ! God in three persons, blessed Trinity. Holy, holy, holy ! all the saints adore thee, Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea ; Cherubim and seraphim falling down before thee, Which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be. Holy, holy, holy ! though the darkness hide thee, Though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see ; Only thou art holy ; there is none beside thee, Perfect in power, in love, and purity. Holy, holy, holy ! Lord God Almighty ! All thy works shall praise thy name, in earth, and sky, and sea ; Holy, holy, holy ! merciful and mighty; God in three persons, blessed Trinity ! BISHOP HEBER [ 127] :■-) t. Charlotte elliott, author of " Just as I Am^' was the writer of about one hundred and ffty other hy?}ins. Her Ufe as an invalid seems to have given a peculiar pathos to almost all her work, but it is certain that, with the possible exception of Frances Ridley Haver gal, no other wo?nan has so suc- cessfully sung her way into the affections of the people. Strafige to say, popular as this hymn is i?i the English, it is even more so in the French and Ger??ian translations. It is known to-day in almost every ?nodern tongue, and sung in every clime, being an especial favorite with mission converts and with all who are subject to persecution for their I'eligious faith. [128] THY WILL BE DONE iVlY God, my Father, while I stray Far from my home, on life's rough way, teach me from my heart to say, " Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " What though in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved no longer nigh ; Submissive still would I reply, " Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " If thou shouldst call me to resign What most I prize — it ne'er was mine ; 1 only yield thee what was thine : " Thy will be done, thy will be done 1 " If but my fainting heart be blest With thy sweet Spirit for its guest. My God, to thee I leave the rest; " Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " Renew my will from day to day ; Blend it with thine, and take away Whate'er now makes it hard to say, " Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " Then when on earth I breathe no more, The prayer oft mixed with tears before I '11 sing upon a happier shore : " Thy will be done, thy will be done ! " CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT [129] Thomas Hastings, Mus. d. (Wash- ifigton, Co?i?i., Oct. /J', lyS^ — New Tork, May 75, l8j2)y is better known as a com- poser of a nu7nber of good tunes than as a writer of hymns. His fame will rest on the tune *^ Top lady,'' to which we still sing *^ Rock of Ages." This was written in the same year as the hymn given here, in 1 8 JO. Dr. Hast- ings prepared and published the first of the present style of hyinn book, with the words and music printed on the same page, in 186^. This hymn is usually sung to the tune composed by Lowell Mason and known as ** Wesley'' [no] MISSIONARY SUCCESS JrU. AIL to the brightness of Zion's glad morning! Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain ! Hushed be the accents of sorrow and mourning; Zion in triumph begins her mild reign. Hail to the brightness of Zion's glad morning, Long by the prophets of Israel foretold ! Hail to the millions from bondage returning, Gentiles and Jews the blest vision behold ! Lo ! in the desert rich flowers are springing. Streams ever copious are gliding along ; Loud from the mountain-tops echoes are ringing, Wastes rise in verdure and mingle in song. See, from all lands — from the isles of the ocean — Praise to Jehovah ascending on high ; Fallen are the engines of war and commotion, Shouts of salvation are rending the sky. THOMAS HASTINGS Sir JOHN BOWRING, LL.D. (Ex- eter, England, Oct. //, I7g2 — Nov. 2 J, l8j2)y a distinguished linguist and political writer, was the author of a number of excellent hymns, including the well known ^^ In the Cross of Christ I Glory." He was a f?ie?nber of Parlia?}ient and was knighted by ^ueen Vic- toria in 18^4. He was known as a Uni- tarian in faith, but this hymn, as well as many others which he wrote, has been adopted by all the churches. ^*God is Love" is one of the most popular songs to-day in Eiigland and her colonies, especially in the Sunday-schools, [132] GOD IS LOVE 'OD is love; his mercy brightens All the path in which we rove ; Bliss he wakes and woe he lightens ; God is wisdom, God is love. Chance and change are busy ever; Man decays, and ages move ; But his mercy waneth never ; God is wisdom, God is love. E'en the hour that darkest seemeth Will his changeless goodness prove ; From the gloom his brightness streameth, God is wisdom, God is love. He with earthly cares entwineth Hope and comfort from above; Everywhere his glory shineth ; God is wisdom, God is love. SIR JOHN BOWRING t'33] ^»s^ t ^^ ^» ^i^ r^" William COWPER (Berk/mmpstead, Hertfordshire J England ^ Nov. 26 y I J J I — East Dereham, Norfolk, April 2^, 1800) was subject to prolonged periods of 7ne lane holy which at times bordered on insanity. It is said that he was possessed of the delusion that he would die by drowning in the River Ouse, and that during one of his seasons of clouded intel" lect and of great depression of spirit he ordered a cab and directed that he be taken to the river, intending to forestall fate by suicide. But a dense fog rising, the cab?nan lost his way and at last brought the poet back safely to his home. That evening Cowper wrote this hymn. Born of his bitter experience, it has become popular, being found in all standard collections and sung wherever the old hymns are loved. PROVIDENCE 'OD moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform ; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill, He treasures up his bright designs And works his sovereign will. Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and will break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense. But trust him for his grace ; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast. Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower. Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain ; God is his own interpreter. And he will make it plain. WILLIAM cow PER ['35] J^ OHN KEBLE, the author of the volume of poems kfiown as *' The Christian Tear," opens that book with a Morning and an Eveti- ing Hymn. Fro?n the latter the familiar ^^ Sun of My Soul" is taken; the for7ner, which in the book has sixteen stanzas, is given below as it is usually printed for church worship. To get the full beauty of the thought, however, the whole poem should be read. The author set the words in Lam. j: 22, 26, ^^ His compassions fail 7iot ; they are new every ?}iorning," at the head of this hy?nn. To-day it is often used for opening church worship. [,36] A MORNING HYMN -L^ EW every morning is the love Our wakening and uprising prove ; Through sleep and darkness safely brought. Restored to life, and power, and thought. New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray ; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. If^ on our daily course, our mind Be set to hallow all we find. New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice. The trivial round, the common task, Will furnish all we ought to ask; Room to deny ourselves, a road To bring us daily nearer God. Only, O Lord, in thy dear love, Fit us for perfect rest above. And help us, this and every day, To live more nearly as we pray. JOHN KEBLE ['37] 1 HE Rev. Sa?nuel Francis Smith was born at BostoUy Mass.y Oct. 21, l8oS, a?id died in l8g§. He was a classmate at Harvard of Oliver Wendell Holmes. Afte?'wards gradu- ating from Andover he entered the Baptist ministry and served therein an honorable career, both as pastor, professor, and editor. He is the author of several popular hyffins ; but his claim to fame will rest on what is commonly recog- nized now as the American national hy7mi. It was written in j8j2, during the author s student life at Andover, and was first used in public at a Sunday-school gathering on fuly ^ at the Park Street Church, Boston. Com- paring this hym?i with the British national anthem, we must agree that Dr. Smith succeeded in his attempt to give the old tune ^^ the ritig of America?! republican patriotism." [n8] NATIONAL HYMN M Y country! 't is of thee. Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I singi Land where my fathers died ' Land of the pilgrim's pride! From every mountain side Let freedom ring ! My native country, thee. Land of the noble free. Thy name I love; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills j My heart with rapture thrills, Like that above. Let music swell the breeze. And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song : Let mortal tongues awake; Let all that breathe partake ; Let rocks their silence break — The sound prolong. Our fathers' God, to thee. Author of liberty, To thee we sing ; Long may our land be bright With freedom's holy light ; Protect us by thy might, Great God, our King. SAMUEL FRANCIS SMITH [ 139] ^^^Sb' iVO one knows who wrote this popular church hymn. In the greater number of books it is credited to Charles Wesley. That is because it first appeared in company with some of his hymns; but neither Wesley nor his contetnpo- raries claimed it as his. There are some reasons for thinking that it was the work of the Rev. Martin Maden (ijzd-ijgo), an English Methodist clergyjnan well known both as a vivid orator and an enthusiastic f?msician. He practised law for several years before being ordained. Later he was chaplaifi of the Lock Hospital. The hymn, with its tune " Italian Hymn,' has won for itself no uncertain place in the worship of American churches, although its use is by no means so general in other lands. [140] COME, THOU ALMIGHTY KING c lOME, thou almighty King, Help us thy name to sing. Help us to praise ; Father, all glorious. O'er all victorious. Come, and reign over us, Ancient of Days! Come, thou incarnate Word, Gird on thy mighty sword ; Our prayer attend ; Come, and thy people bless. And give thy word success ; Spirit of holiness ! On us descend. Come, holy Comforter! Thy sacred witness bear, In this glad hour; Thou, who almighty art. Now rule in every heart. And ne'er from us depart, Spirit of power ! To the great One in Three, The highest praises be. Hence, evermore ! His sovereign majesty May we in glory see. And to eternity Love and adore. ANONYMOUS ['4T] 7.^^M/J y< OHN MASON NEALE, D. D. (Lon- dofiy Jan. 24, 18 18 — East Grinstead^ Aug. 6y 1866 Jy had a troubled career as a min- ister of the Church of England; his learn- ing and piety gave him a wide celebrity y but his ritualisfn led to his being inhibited by his bishop. He is now remeinbered for his sympa- thetic and spirited translations of the hyf?ins and songs of the early Greek and Latin ??ionks. This hymn first appeared in his " Hymns of the Eastern Churchy^ published in 1862. It is a translation of the song of Stephen^ a monk of the monastery of Mar Saba, situated near the Dead Sea. This song was probably first written in the eighth century. To fnany per- sons it is the most beautiful^ as it certainly is one of the most sympathetic, of all Christian hymns. ART THOU WEARY A .RT thou weary, art thou languid, Art thou sore distressed ? " Come to me," saith One, " and, coming. Be at rest." Hath he marks to lead me to him. If he be my guide? — " In his feet and hands are wound prints. And his side." Is there diadem, as monarch. That his brow adorns ! — " Yea, a crown, in very surety ; But of thorns." If I find him, if I follow. What his guerdon here ? — " Many a sorrow, many a labor. Many a tear." If I still hold closely to him. What hath he at last ? — "Sorrow vanished, labor ended, Jordan passed." If I ask him to receive me. Will he say me nay? — " Not till earth, and not till heaven Pass away." Finding, following, keeping, struggling. Is he sure to bless ? — "Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs. Answer, Yes." JOHN MASON NEALE Edward PERRONET( London,!'/ 26- iyg2), an eccentric preacher associated with the Wesleys, would have been long ago for- gotten but for his one great hy?mi which has been given a place in the group of the four greatest Christian hytnns. In the United States it is usually sung to the tune " Coronation,'* while in other lands " Miles Lane " is used. The hymn has always bee?i a favorite with soldiers, being sung frequently on the march, and in some instances its throbbing strains have put new life into dispirited regimejits and swung them back into line, turjiing defeat into victory. The last verse of the hymn is said to have been added by John Rippon in ijSj. [ 144] CORONATION A LL hail the power of Jesus' name! Let angels prostrate fall; Bring forth the royal diadem, And crown him Lord of all. Crown him, ye morning stars of light, Who fixed this floating ball ; Now hail the strength of Israel's might. And crown him Lord of all. Crown him, ye martyrs of our God, Who from his altar call ; Extol the stem of Jesse's rod, And crown him Lord of all. Ye chosen seed of Israel's race. Ye ransomed from the fall ; Hail him, who saves you bv his grace. And crown him Lord of all. Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget The wormwood and the gall. Go, spread your trophies at his feet. And crown him Lord of all. Let every kindred, every tribe. On this terrestrial ball. To him all majesty ascribe. And crown him Lord of all. O ! that with yonder sacred throng, We at his feet may fall ; We '11 join the everlasting song. And crown him Lord of all. EDWARD PERRONET [M5] ^,<^c Rat palmer (Little Compton, R. /., Nov. 12, 1808 — Newark, N. J., March 2g, 188 J ) was well known as a Congrega- tional pastor and as the secretary of the Con- gregational Union. He wrote this popular hymn when he was but twenty-two years old. He says that it was the expression of his own feelings at a time of great trouble. One year later Lowell Mason set it to the tune " Olivet^' with which it has ever since been wedded. It has been translated into almost every dialect and tongue. Almost all church people know tt by heart, arid certainly all love it heartily. [,46] MY FAITH LOOKS UP TO M .Y faith looks up to thee, Thou Lamb of Calvary, Savior divine ! Now hear me while I pray, Take all my guilt away; O let me from this day Be wholly thine. May thy rich grace impart Strength to my fainting heart; My zeal inspire; As thou hast died for me, O may my love to thee Pure, warm, and changeless be, A living fire ! While life's dark maze I tread. And griefs around me spread, Be thou my guide ; Bid darkness turn to day, Wipe sorrow's tears away. Nor let me ever stray From thee aside. When ends life's transient dream, When death's cold, sullen stream Shall o'er me roll, Blest Savior ! then, in love. Fear and distress remove ; O bear me safe above, A ransomed soul. RAY PALMER [147] 1 HIS hymn has been ascribed to tnany writ- ers and seldom to its true author. Tet the fnatter of its origin would easily have bee?! settled by reference to a novel written several years ago, entitled ^^ Dollars and Cents,'' where it first appeared in its original form. The writer of this story, answering afi inquiry re- garding the hymn, writes, " It is certainly mine — so far as that can be said of anything which the Lord himself gives to our hearts to say or do. The hymn just grew up in a scene in a story I was writing, because I found nothing that just suited tne.'' Miss Warner, who is perhaps better known as *^ Amy Lothrop,'' is the author of a number of stories. The hyjnn is sung to the beautiful setting of Mendelssohn' s " Consolation." [148] CONSOLATION w, E would see Jesus ; for the shadows lengthen Across this little landscape of our life ; We would see Jesus, our weak faith to strengthen For the last weariness, the final strife. We would see Jesus, the great rock foundation Whereon our feet were set with sovereign grace: Nor life nor death, with all their agitation. Can thence remove us, if we see his face. We would see Jesus : other lights are paling, Which for long years we have rejoiced to see; The blessings of our pilgrimage are failing: We would not mourn them, for we go to thee. We would see Jesus : yet the spirit lingers Round the dear objects it has loved so long, And earth from earth can scarce unclasp its fingers; Our love to thee makes not this love less strong. We would see Jesus : sense is all too binding, And heaven appears too dim, too far away; We would see thee, thyself our hearts reminding What thou hast suffered, our great debt to pay. We would see Jesus: this is all we're needing; Strength, joy, and willingness come with the sight; We would see Jesus, dying, risen, pleading; Then welcome day, and farewell mortal night. ANNA B. WARNER [ '49] Martin LUTHER (Eiskben, Saxony, Nov. lOf 1 48 J — Eisleben, Feb. 18 y 1^46), was not only a great preacher, he was also a poety the greatest of the German hymnists. As a poet he is best known by his " Ein Feste Burgy' which is commonly called Luther s hymn. Heine calls it " The Marseillaise of the Reformation "; it spread like wildfire every- where among the Protestaiits, being sung in the cottage, the workshop, and the congregation. Based on the Forty-Sixth Psaltn, " God is our refuge and strength,'' and born in the supreme hour of Luther s great conflict , it was one of the most potent forces of the Reformation. Something of the versatility of Luther is seen in the fact that the tune to which this hymn is always sung was also his cofnposttton. The translation was made by Frederick Henry Hedge, of Massachusetts, in the last century. [mo] EIN FESTE BURG A MIGHTY fortress is our God, A bulwark never failing : Our helper he, amid the flood Of mortal ills prevailing. For still our ancient foe Doth seek to work his woe ; His craft and power are great, And armed with cruel hate. On earth is not his equal. Did we in our own strength confide, Our striving would be losing; Were not the right man on our side, The man of God's own choosing. Dost ask who that may be ? Christ Jesus, it is he; Lord Sabaoth is his name. From age to age the same. And he must win the battle. And though this world, with devils filled, Should threaten to undo us; We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us. Let goods and kindred go. This mortal life also : The body they may kill ; God's truth abideth still. His kingdom is forever. MARTIN LUTHER [^51] V. ,» ■ .A - -^ vs" r\.' HeNRT FRANCIS LTTE (Kelso, Scot- landy yu?ie /, Ijgj — NicCy France , Nov. 20, 184J )y poet and clergyman^ early gave pi'omise of a brilliajit career ; but illness , intrigue , and misfortune seemed to beset Imn. His great hymns y however , grew out of these experiences. He says that, ^'■scarce able to crawly' he went to his last conwiunion at Brixham, and after the service, as the darkness gathered, he wrote this farewell hymn. To-day this hymn is found in almost all hymn books, and fro77i the churches, the homes, from the forts and the me?i of war of both great English-speaking nations, its melody floats out on the Sabbath evening air. [-5-] ABIDE WITH ME BIDE with me: fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ! When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O, abide with me ! Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word. But as thou dwell'st with thy disciples. Lord, Familiar, condescending, patient, free, Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me. I need thy presence every passing hour: What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power? Who like thyself my guide and stay can be ? Thro' cloud and sunshine, O, abide with me ! Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; Earth's joys grow dim ; its glories pass away: Change and decay in all around I see; thou, who changest not, abide with me ! Come not in terrors, as the King of kings; But kind and good, with healing in thy wings, Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea ; Come, Friend of sinners, and abide with me ! 1 fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless. Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness; Where is Death's sting ? where. Grave, thy victory ? I triumph still, if thou abide with me. Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies ; Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me ! 'A HENRY FRANCIS LYTE ['S3] -^ jThE Rev. John Marriott (Cottesbach, Eng- land, lySo — Broad Clyst, March ji, 182^), studefii at Rugby and at Christ Churchy Ox- fordy private tutor in the family of the Duke of Buccleuchy and jninister of the Episcopal church, was a tnan whose quiet, retired life would be unknown but for this one hymn. And few, indeed, of the many thousands who sing this inspiring song in the churches ever stop to ask as to its author. Tet it ranks as 07ie of the greatest of the hytnns, being used in the opefiing worship of churches all over the world. It was written probably about 181J, and published in ^^Lyra Britannic a'' in i86j ; to-day it is found in every hymn book that makes any pretensions to cotnpletcness. [•54] "LET THERE BE LIGHT" T, HOU, whose almighty word Chaos and darkness heard. And took their flight, Hear us, we humbly pray ; And, where the gospel's day Sheds not its glorious ray, Let there be light. Thou, who didst come to bring On thy redeeming wing Healing and sight. Health to the sick in mind, Sight to the inly blind, O, now to all mankind Let there be light. Spirit of truth and love, Life-giving, holy dove, Speed forth thy flight; Move o'er the waters' face Bearing the lamp of grace. And in earth's darkest place Let there be lisht. Holy and blessed three. Glorious trinity. Wisdom, love, might ! Boundless as ocean's tide Rolling in fullest pride Through the world, far and wide. Let there be light. JOHN MARRIOTT Charles WESLET (Epworth, Eng- land, Dec. i8y iyo8 — London, March 2gy Ij88 ) was the younger brother of "John Wesley y with whom he worked and preached. Charles is justly known as the poet of Method- isniy for he is the author of over six thousand hyi7ins. ** fesuSy Lover of My Souly" was originally entitled " Tempt ationy" and is said to have been written i?}tmediately after a narrow escape from death by shipwreck. Henry Ward Bee c her said : ** / would rather have written that hy?nn of Wesley's than to have the fa?ne of all the kings that ever sat on earth." Its beautiful thought has become current in ?nany tongues. It was one of the favorite songs of the Chinese Christians who pe?'ished in the Boxer uprisingy many dyifig with it o?i their lips. [156] JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL J ESUS ! lover of my soul. Let me to thy bosom fly. While the billows near me roll. While the tempest still is high ; Hide me, O my Savior ! hide. Till the storm of life is past ; Safe into the haven guide ; O, receive my soul at last ! Other refuge have I none ; Hangs my helpless soul on thee ; Leave, ah ! leave me not alone. Still support and comfort me. All my trust on thee is stayed ; All my help from thee I bring ; Cover my defenseless head With the shadow of thy wing. Thou, O Christ ! art all 1 want ; More than all in thee I find ; Raise the fallen, cheer the faint. Heal the sick, and lead the blind. Just and holy is thy name, I am all unrighteousness ; Vile and full of sin I am. Thou art full of truth and grace. Plenteous grace with thee is found, Grace to pardon all my sin ; Let the healing streams abound. Make and keep me pure within ; Thou of life the fountain art. Freely let me take of thee ; Spring thou up within my heart. Rise to all eternity. CHARLES WESLEY 1 HE Rev. Christopher Wordsworth, D. D. (Lambethy England^ Oct.jOy iSoj — Lincoln, March 20, l88^), bishop of Lincoln, was one of the foremost scholars of the Anglican Church in his day. He published in 1862 a volume of poe?ns entitled " The Holy Tear,'' a collec- tion of pieces for the different days of the church year, which contained one hundred and twenty-seven hymns of his own co?nposition. This was the first hytnn in the book. It is quite gene*-ally used as a song of fjiorning worship on Sundays. ['58] DAY OF REST o DAY of rest and gladness, O day of joy and light, O balm of care and sadness. Most beautiful, most bright : On thee, the high and lowly. Through ages joined in tune. Sing "Holy, holy, holy," To the great God Triune. On thee, at the creation. The light first had its birth ; On thee, for our salvation, Christ rose from depths of earth; On thee, our Lord, victorious, The Spirit sent from heaven ; And thus on thee, most glorious A triple light was given. To-day on weary nations The heavenly manna falls ; To holy convocations The silver trumpet calls. Where gospel light is glowing With pure and radiant beams. And living water flowing With soul-refreshing streams. New graces ever gaining From this our day of rest. We reach the rest remaining To spirits of the blest ; To Holy Ghost be praises. To Father, and to Son ; The church her voice upraises To thee, blest Three in One. CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH George DUFFIELD (Carlisle, Pa., Sept. 12, j8i8 — Bloomjield, N. J., July 6, 1888 ) came of a faintly of American hymn writers. He was a Presbyterian pastor in Brooklyn, in Philadelphia, in Michigan, and in Illinois. He is buried in Detroit. The hymn for which, above all others, he is fa?nous was the outcojue of the Philadelphia revival of 18^8. It was written as the conclusion of a sermon, and it quickly found its way all over the English world, and into German, Latin, and other translations. The author says that he first met it, after its composition, as the favorite song of the army of the fames in 1864. [160] THE SOLDIERS OF THE CROSS OTAND up ! stand up for Jesus ! Ye soldiers of the cross ! Lift high his royal banner. It must not suffer loss ; From victory unto victory His army shall he lead. Till every foe is vanquished. And Christ is Lord indeed. Stand up! stand up for Jesus ! The trumpet call obey; Forth to the mighty conflict. In this his glorious day ; **ye that are men, now serve him,' Against unnumbered foes ; Let courage rise with danger. And strength to strength oppose. Stand up ! stand up for Jesus ! Stand in his strength alone; The arm of flesh will fail you — Ye dare not trust your own ; Put on the gospel armor. And, watching unto prayer. Where duty calls, or danger. Be never wanting there. Stand up ! stand up for Jesus ! The strife will not be long ; This day, the noise of battle. The next, the victor's song ; To him that overcometh, A crown of life shall be ; He with the King of Glory Shall reign eternally ! GEORGE DUFFIELD IHE Rev. Carl Rudolph Hagenbach, D.D. (Basely Switzerland, March ^, iSoi — yune /, l8j4)i wrote this hyj7in in his own tongue somewhere about 1 8 40. The translator is un- known, but, whoever he ?nay be, he has fairly well carried over the quaintness and the sense of peace arid quietness in the original. Dr. Hagetibach cofnbined in himself the rare and seldom harmonious qualities of a successful professor of church history in the university of his native town and a poet of tender feel- ing. While this hymn is not used generally in congregational worship, it is well known and much used in smaller gatherings and for private devotions. [162] RE SIGNATION OiNCE thy father's arm sustains thee. Peaceful be ; When a chastening hand restrains thee. It is he ! Know his love in full completeness Fills the measure of thy weakness ; If he wound thy spirit sore. Trust him more. Without murmur, uncomplaining. In his hand Lay whatever things thou canst not Understand : Though the world thy folly spurneth. From thy faith in pity turneth. Peace thy inmost soul shall fill — Lying still. Fearest sometimes that thy father Hath forgot ? When the clouds around thee gather. Doubt him not ! Always hath the daylight broken — Always hath he comfort spoken — Better hath he been for years Than thy fears. To his own thy Savior giveth Daily strength ; To each troubled soul that liveth Peace at length : Weakest lambs have largest sharing Of this tender shepherd's caring; Ask him not, then — when or how — Only bow. CARL RUDOLPH HAGENBACH ,! [163] ;^^ ^L THO UGH this well known and greatly loved hy?nn is frequently attributed to one " Kirkhamy" there is no reliable evidence as to its authorship. It first appeared in the " Selec- tion of Hymns fro?n the Best Authors y' com- piled by Dr. Rippon and published in ijSj. Here it was credited to " i^." This^ taken with the fact that George Keith^ a London publisher y was the chorister of Dr. Rippon s church, has led many to attribute the song to him. There is no doubt, however, as to the place occupied by this hymn ; it is a classic, and judged by the spirit with which it is sung it is just as popular to-day as ever. The tune usually used with it is " Portuguese Hymn.'* [164] A; THE FIRM FOUNDATION H, OW firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord ! Is laid for your faith in his excellent word ! What more can he say, than to you he hath said — To you, who for refuge to Jesus have fled ? *« Fear not, I am with thee, O, be not dismayed. For I am thy God, I will still give thee aid ; I '11 strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand. Upheld by my gracious, omnipotent hand. " When through the deep waters I call thee to go. The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow ; For I will be with thee thy trials to bless. And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress. *' When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie. My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply, The flame shall not hurt thee ; I only design Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine. " Ev'n down to old age all my people shall prove My sovereign, eternal, unchangeable love ; And then, when gray hairs shall their temples adorn. Like lambs they shall still in my bosom be borne. *' The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose, I will not, I will not desert to his foes : That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I '11 never — no, never — no, never forsake ! " ANONYMOUS '*»-MP T i-^^ ^^ ^<, < V ^^'tr^'T^^'^^'^ Reginald HEBER ^Ma/pas, Cheshire, April 21, 1 78 J — Trichinopoly, hidia, April 2y 1826), Anglican bishop of Calcutta and true poet, is the author of a number of standard hymns. He was a ?nan of unusual attain- ments. His poem *' Palestine,'' which ?nade him prize poet of Brazenose, has been pro- nounced the best poet?i Oxford ever produced. His " Missionary Hymn " was written at the request of his father-in-law, who had to deliver a missionary sertnon the next morning, and who had failed to find a suitable hymn for the service. It was then written as it has ever since been sung, and so admirably does it fit the theme that no inissionary service is to-day com- plete without it. The tune to which it is always sung was one of Lowell Mason's first compositions, and was also prepared upon re- quest, for this particular hymn. ''THE MISSIONARY HYMN" JL ROM Greenland's icy mountains. From India's coral strand. Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand — From many an ancient river. From many a palmy plain. They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain. What though the spicy breezes Blov7 soft o'er Ceylon's isle ; Though every prospect pleases. And only man is vile ; In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown ; The heathen, in his blindness. Bows down to wood and stone ! Shall we, whose souls are lighted With wisdom from on high — Shall we, to men benighted. The lamp of life deny ? Salvation, O, Salvation ! The joyful sound proclaim. Till earth's remotest nation Has learned Messiah's name. Waft, waft, ye winds, his story. And you, ye waters, roll. Till, like a sea of glory. It spreads from pole to pole ; Till o'er our ransomed nature The Lamb for sinners slain. Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign ! BISHOP REGINALD HEBER [167] J HIS, the tnost poetic of all the Christmas hymnsy was written by an American, Ed?nund Hamilton Sears (Sandisjield, Mass., April 6, jglO — Weston, Mass., Jan. 14, 18 j6). Its author was a Unitarian ininister, a gradu- ate of Union College, Schenectady, and of the divinity school of Harvard. Although the hymn is comparatively new, being published in the ''Christian Register'' in 18^0, it has be- come popular, and its use in church services at Christmas tif?ie is ahtiost universal. Along with the older hymns it is sung as a carol on the streets in England and in the colonies on the last few flights before Christmas day. [,68] THE A N G E L'S SONG I T came upon the midnight clear. That glorious song of old. From angels bending near the earth To touch their harps of gold ; •' Peace to the earth, good will to man. From heaven's all gracious king" : The earth in solemn stillness lay. To hear the angels sing. Still through the cloven skies they come. With peaceful wings unfurled ; And still celestial music floats O'er all the weary world; Above its sad and lowly plains They bend on heavenly wing. And ever o'er its Babel sounds. The blessed angels sing. O ye, beneath life's crushing load. Whose forms are bending low. Who toil along the climbing way. With painful steps and slow — Look up ! for glad and golden hours Come swiftly on the wing ; O, rest beside the weary road. And hear the angels sing ! For lo I the days are hastening on. By prophet bards foretold. When with the ever circling years Come round the age of gold ! When peace shall over all the earth Its final splendors fling. And the whole world send back the song Which now the angels sing ! EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS [169] ii ^^u- 1 HIS is another of the popular hymns of that great writer of religious lyrics ^ Ke gin aid Heber^ missionary bishop and poet. Many have re- marked the paucity of Christian hymns of action , suited to the feelings of 7nen. This hy7nny there- fore y with its direct appeal to the motor tempera- ment, is worthy of special notice, for on this account it has always been popular with young men. In college chapel it is probably used more frequently than any other hy??jn, while in all services it is a familiar processional and a great favorite with the people. [170] THE NOBLE ARMY T. HE Son of God goes forth to war, A kingly crown to gain. His blood-red banner streams afar : Who follows in his train ? Who best can drink his cup of woe. Triumphant over pain ; Who patient bears his cross below. He follows in his train. The martyr first, whose eagle eye Could pierce beyond the grave. Who saw his Master in the sky. And called on him to save. Like him, with pardon on his tongue. In midst of mortal pain. He prayed for them that did the wrong : Who follows in his train ? A glorious band, the chosen few On whom the Spirit came. Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew And mocked the cross and flame. They met the tyrant's brandished steel. The lion's gory mane ; They bowed their necks the death to feel ! Who follows in their train ? A noble army, men and boys. The matron and the maid. Around the Savior's throne rejoice. In robes of light arrayed. They climbed the steep ascent of heaven Through peril, toil, and pain. O God, to us may grace be given To follow in their train. BISHOP REGINAJD HEBER ['71] Phillips brooks (Boston, Dec. I J, j8j^ — y^^' ^3y ^^93 )y '^^^ ^^^^ ^han the bishop of the Episcopal diocese of Massachu- setts ; he was the bishop of the whole Ameri- can people. They have not yet ceased to grieve for him. Perhaps admiration of the author' s personality has not a little to do with the pop- ularity of this poem. It was written for the use of Trinity Sunday -school, about l880y and sent out anonymously . But the people soon found it out. Though evidently intended as a Christmas hymn, it is used at other times, and may be counted as one of the few new hymns that have taken their place along with the old ones. It is already found in all the standard collections of church hymns, as well as in many of those of less permanent character. [172] BETHLEHEM f o LITTLE town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie ! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep. The silent stars go by ; Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting light; The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee to-night. For Christ is born of Mary, And gathered all above While mortals sleep the angels keep Their watch of wondering love. O morning stars, together Proclaim the holy birth ! And praises sing to God the King, And peace to men on earth. How silently, how silently. The wondrous gift is given ! So God imparts to human hearts The blessings of his heaven. No car may hear his coming. But in this world of sin. Where meek souls will receive him still. The dear Christ enters in. O holy child of Bethlehem ! Descend to us, we pray ; Cast out our sin, and enter in. Be born in us to-day. We hear the Christmas angels The great glad tidings tell ; O, come to us, abide with us. Our Lord Immanuel ! PHILLIPS BROOKS .y^lLMOST nothing is hiown of Bernard, save that he was a monk at the old abbey of Cluny, France, in the twefth century, and that he wrote a poem entitled " De Conteynptu Mundi,'' in which there occur the stanzas froju which this hymn and several others were translated. Dr. John M. Neale (London, June 24, 18 18 — East Gr instead, Aug. 6y 1866), as the translator, deserves much of the credit for the great popularity of this hymn. The vigor and freedom of his version may be judged by comparisoji with the first lines of the Latin original: "Urbs Syon aurea, patria lactea, cive decora, Omne cor obrius, omnibus obstruis, et cor et ora, Nescio, nescio, quae jubilatio lux tibi qualis, Guam socialia guadia, gloria quam specialis." ['74] jerusalp:m, the golden J ERUSALEM, the golden. With milk and honey blest ! Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice oppressed ; I know not, O, I know not What joys await me there ; What radiancy of glory. What bliss beyond compare. They stand, those halls of Zion, All jubilant with song, And bright with many an angel. And all the martyr throng ; The Prince is ever in them. The daylight is serene ; The pastures of the blessed Are decked in glorious sheen. There is the throne of David ; And there from care released. The song of them that triumph. The shout of them that feast ; And they, who with their leader Have conquered in the fight. Forever and forever Are clad in robes of white. O sweet and blessed country. Shall I e'er see thy face ? O sweet and blessed country. Shall I e'er win thy grace ? Exult, O dust and ashes. The Lord shall be thy part ; His only, his forever Thou shalt be and thou art. BERNARD OF CLUNY AND JOHN M. NEALE .M -:? ^,^ ^i^: 1 HE authorship of this celebrated hyjun ivill probably re??iain forever unknown. It is the f?iost ancient Christian hymn of any lengthy coming to us^ through the Latin, fro?n a very early Greek original. [176] TE DEUM LAUDAMUS W E praise thee, O God ; we acknowledge thee to be the Lord. All the earth doth worship thee, the Father everlasting. To thee all angels cry aloud, the heavens, and all the powers therein. To thee cherubim and seraphim continually do cry, Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of Sabaoth ; Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of thy glory. The glorious company of the apostles praise thee. The goodly fellow- ship of the prophets praise thee. The noble army of martyrs praise thee. The holy church throughout all the world doth acknowledge thee. The Father of an infinite majesty ; thine adorable, true and only Son ; Also the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. Thou art the King of glory, O Christ, thou art the everlasting Son of the Father. When thou tookest upon thee to deliver man, thou didst humble thyself to be born of a virgin. When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death, thou didst open the kingdom of heaven to all believers. Thou sittest at the right hand of God, in the glory of the Father. We believe that thou shalt come to be our judge. We therefore pray thee, help thy servants, whom thou hast re- deemed with thy precious blood. Make them to be numbered with thy saints, in glory everlasting. O Lord, save thy people, and bless thine heritage ; govern them and lift them up forever. Day by day we magnify thee ; and we worship thy name ever, world without end. Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin ; O Lord, have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us ; O Lord, let thy mercy be upon us, as our trust is in thee. O Lord, in thee have I trusted ; let me never be confounded. Amen, ANONYMOUS [177] 1 HE famous American poet and reformer has made no s?nall contributmi to the songs of wor- ship and praise used in the churches. This hymn is taken from his longer poeni etititled " The Brewing of So?na.'' It was published first for church worship in 1884^ and has grown steadily into general use despite much opposition and criticism, once bitter, but now abnost forgotten, regarding the poet' s alleged heterodox beliefs. There is to-day a marked tendency to give la?'ger prominence to the work of the great poets in the hymnody of the churches. [^78] THE WAY OF PEACE D, 'EAR Lord and Father of mankind, Forgive our feverish ways ! Reclothe us in our rightful mind ; In purer lives thy semce find, In deeper reverence, praise. In simple trust like theirs who heard, Beside the Syrian sea, The gracious calling of the Lord, Let us, like them, without a word, Rise up and follow thee. O Sabbath rest by Galilee ! O calm of hills above, Where Jesus knelt to share with thee The silence of eternity. Interpreted by love! With that deep hush subduing all. Our words and works that drown The tender whisper of thy call. As noiseless let thy blessings fail As fell thy manna down. Drop thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease: Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of thy peace. Breathe through the heats of our desire Thy coolness and thy balm ; Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire: Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire, O still small voice of calm! JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER [ 179] Next to " Jesus, Lover of My Sou//' this is accounted the most popular of Charles Wes- ley^ s hymns. Certainly no other hyf?i?i is so frequently sung at Christmas tiine, and few things have as strong a charm or make a deeper impression than the sound of this hymn as it is sung in the crisp winter air by the people of the village choir as they stand in the streets of Engla7idj just before Christmas. [.80] CHRISTMAS CAROL H . ARK ! the herald angels sing, «' Glory to the new-born King j Peace on earth and mercy mild ; God and sinners reconciled." Joyful, all ye nations, rise, Join the triumph of the skies ; With angelic hosts proclaim, ''Christ is born in Bethlehem." Hark ! the herald angels sing, " Glory to the new-born King." Christ, by highest heaven adored, Christ, the everlasting Lord : Late in time behold him come. Offspring of a virgin's womb. Veiled in flesh the Godhead see. Hail the incarnate Deity ! Pleased as man with men to appear, Jesus, our Immanuel here. Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace ! Hail the Sun of righteousness ! Light and life to all he brings. Risen with healing in his wings : Mild he lays his glory by, Born that man no more may die ; Born to raise the sons of earth ; Born to give them second birth. Come, Desire of nations, come ! Fix in us thy humble home : Rise, the woman's conquering seed, Bruise in us the serpent's head ; Adam's likeness now efface, Stamp thine image in its place : Second Adam from above, Reinstate us in thy love. CHARLES WESLEY [i8i] 1 HIS hymn represents Charles Wesley at his besty and it is everywhere one of the best loved of his many writings. It is given here as he wrote it, and not as singers have insisted on amending it. Like the writer s beautiful " Jesus, Lover of My Soul,' it belongs to con- gregations of almost all creeds and in all lands. It was published in I J 41' [182] LOVE DIVINE I v OVF. divine, all loves excelling, Joy of heaven, to earth come down ; Fix in us thy humble dwelling. All thy faithful mercies crown : Jesus, thou art all compassion. Pure, unbounded love thou art } Visit us with thy salvation, Enter every trembling heart. Breathe, O, breathe thy loving spirit Into every troubled breast! Let us all in thee inherit, Let us find that second rest : Take away our bent to sinning j Alpha and Omega be ; End of faith, as its beginning. Set our hearts at liberty. Come, almighty to deliver. Let us all thy grace receive ; Suddenly return, and never. Never more thy temples leave : Thee we would be always blessing, Serve thee as thy hosts above. Pray, and praise thee without ceasing. Glory in thy perfect love. Finish then thy new creation. Pure and spotless let us be j Let us see thy great salvation, Perfectly restored in thee : Changed from glory into glory, Till in heaven we take our place, Till we cast our crowns before thee. Lost in wonder, love, and praise. CHARLES WESLEY HIT] •■~^- Dean ALFORD was known to ail the students of a past generation for Jjis great worizy " The Greeii New Testatnent^ with Notes.'' If that book has ceased to have its preeminencey his hymns have, on the other hand, strengthened their hold on the affections of this generation. This hyjnn, published in 1866, received his niost careful work, and stands as the best rep- resentative of his poetic power. It was sung by his grfiveside, in the yard without Can- terbury Cathedral, where he had been so long Dean, at the time of his burial in j8j I. y. B. Dykes composed the tune, called ^'Alfordr I_iH] THE ARMIES OF THE RANSOMED JL EN thousand times ten thousand, In sparkling raiment bright, The armies of the ransomed saints Throng up the steeps of light: 'Tis finished, all is finished. Their fight with death and sin: Fling open wide the golden gates. And let the victors in. What rush of hallelujahs Fills all the earth and sky ! What ringing of a thousand harps Bespeaks the triumph nigh ! O day, for which creation And all its tribes were made ! O joy, for all its former woes A thousand-fold repaid ! O, then what raptured greetings On Canaan's happy shore ! What knitting severed friendships up. Where partings are no more ! Then eyes with joy shall sparkle, That brimmed with tears of late, Orphans no longer fatherless, Nor widows desolate. Bring near thy great salvation, Thou Lamb for sinner slain ; Fill up the roll of thine elect. Then take thy power, and reign ; Appear, Desire of nations — Thine exiles long for home — Show in the heaven thy promised sign ; Thou Prince and Savior, come ! HENRY ALFORD [^85] jtIBOJJT no hymn writer have there been greater differences of opinion than about F?'ed- erick Williain Faber (Caherley Vicarage^ Yorkshire^ June 28 , 1814 — London, Sept. 26, l86j). The conclusion of the whole matter is seen, however, in the growing popu- larity of his work. This gifted Catholic has given to all Christendom a numher of beautiful and popular hymns. " The Pilgri?ns of the Night" appeared in 18^4. It is the best known of Faber s hymns in the United States, while in England his ^^ Paradise" holds first place. The former has been fortunate in that some beautiful melodies, notably " Vox Angel- ica" by y. B. Dykes, have been cofnposed especially for it. [186] THE PILGRIMS OF THE NIGHT H . ARK, hark, my soul ! angelic songs are swelling O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat shore How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling Of that new life when sin shall be no more. Refrain — Angels of Jesus, angels of light. Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night. Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come ; And through the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing, The music of the gospel leads us home. Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing. The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea. And laden souls, by thousands meekly stealing. Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to thee. Rest comes at length ; though life be long and dreary, The day must dawn, and darksome night be past ; Faith's journey ends in welcome to the weary. And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last. Angels ! sing on, your faithful watches keeping ; Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above ; Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping. And life's long shadows break in cloudless love. FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER ['87] 1 HE Rev. JoJm Ernest Bode was a rector of the Church of England^ born in i8l6 and dying in 18J4. His life was spent iti his parish duties and in writi?ig several volumes both of prose and of poetry. This hymn first appeared as one of his poems. The relative popularity of the hy??in in England as com- pared with the United States is indicative of a fact often overlooked, that the place of a hymn depends ??iuch on the tune with which it is associated. In the former country it is always sung to the beautiful setting by f . W. Ellioty while in the latter no particular tune has been commonly assigned to it. [188] A DISCIPLE'S PRAYER O JESUS, I have promised, To serve thee to the end ,• Be thou forever near me. My Master and my Friend! I shall not fear the battle. If thou art by my side, Nor wander from the pathway. If thou wilt be my Guide. O, let me feel thee near me — The world is ever near ; I see the sights that dazzle, The tempting sounds I hear. My foes are ever near me, Around me and within ; But, Jesus, draw thou nearer. And shield my soul from sin. O Jesus, thou hast promised To all who follow thee. That where thou art in glory. There shall thy servant be ; And, Jesus, I have promised To serve thee to the end j O, give me grace to follow My Master and my Friend. O, let me see thy footmarks, And in them plant mine own, My hope to follow duly Is in thy strength alone. O, guide me, call me, draw me. Uphold me to the end ; And then in heaven receive me. My Savior and my Friend. JOHN ERNEST BODE [,89] y ULIA WARD HOWE (New York, May 2y, l8ig) deserves fame for f?iany other things y — for poems ^ essays, lectures, and works of philanthropy, — but she will always be known to the greater number as the writer of the great *^ Marseillaise'' of the federal armies. While on a visit, in 1 86 1, to the army encatJiped near Washington she wrote the stirring lines, basing them on the old ^^fohn Brown'' melody. This can never become a great international hytnn, but it will always be well loved by the Atnerican people. It is interesting to note the pleasure of a church cojigregation when they are afforded an opportunity to join in singing as a hyt?in the so?ig so 7nany of their fathers sang on the field. [190] BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC M, .INE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible quick sword : His truth is marching on. Glory, glory, hallelujah ! Glory, glory, hallelujah ! Glory, glory, hallelujah ! His truth is marching on. I have seen him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps ; They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I have read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps ; His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel : "As ye deal with my contemners so with you my grace shall deal ; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching en." He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment seat. O, be swift, my soul, to answer him ! Be jubilant, my feet : Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea. With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me ; As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on. JULIA WARD HOWE [191] "^ ''vT^l^ ■ Sarah flower ADAMS (Great Harlow, England^ Feb. 22, l8o^ — London, August, 1848 ) is the author of the hymn which is the best k?iown of all those written by women. Though written as recently as 1840, this hymn stands amongst the foremost in the list of the ten great hymns of the Christian church. In the United States it would be itnpossible to find a hyinnal fro?n which it is omitted. This may be due, in part, to the tune to which it was set by the father of Atnerican church ?nusic. Dr. Lowell Mason. Written by an Englishwo?nan, this hymn has been carried to all parts of the world by American travellers, and American mission- aries have translated it into the tongues of the strange tribes in all lands. [192] NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE N, BARER, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee. E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me ; Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to thee. Nearer to thee. Though like the wanderer, The sun gone down. Darkness be ovei me. My rest a stone ; Yet in my dreams I'd be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee. There let the way appear Steps unto heaven ; All that thou sendest me, In mercy given ; Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to thee. Nearer to thee. Then, with my waking thoughts Bright with thy praise, Out of my stony griefs Bethel I '11 raise ; So by my woes to be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee. Or if on joyful wing, Cleaving the sky, Sun, moon, and stars forgot. Upward I fly, Still all my song shall be. Nearer, my God, to thee. Nearer to thee. SARAH FLOWER ADAMS was ^NNA LAETITIA FARING born at Neath, Glamorganshire, Wales, where she still lives the quiet life of a ^akeress. She has written many beautiful hynms, one of the best known being " In Heavenly Love Abiding'' But in the past few years this hymn of simple faith and desire for the quieter ways of life has become by far the most fre- quently used. This may be because more are seeking the path beside the still waters. [ 194] THE SIMPLE WAY X^ ATHER, I know that all my life Is portioned out for me ; The changes that are sure to come I do not fear to see ; I ask thee for a present mind Intent on pleasing thee. I ask thee for a thoughtful love, Through constant watching wise, To meet the glad with joyful smiles, And wipe the weeping eyes ; A heart at leisure from itself, To soothe and sympathize. I would not have the restless will That hurries to and fro. Seeking for some great thing to do, Or sacred thing to know ; I would be treated as a child, And guided where 1 go. Wherever in the world I am. In whatsoe'er estate, I have a fellowship with hearts To keep and cultivate : A work of lowly love to do For him on whom I wait. I ask thee for the daily strength. To none that ask denied, A mind to blend with outward life, While keeping at thy side j Content to fill a little space, If thou be glorified. In service which thy love appoints There are no bonds for me 5 My secret heart is taught the truth That makes thy children free: A life of self-renouncing love Is one of liberty. ANNA LAETITIA WARING [195] Samuel john stone (Whitmore, England^ April 2^, lSjg)y a clergyman of the English established churchy is the author of several beautiful hyynns, although none of them approaches this one in general popularity. In- deed, " The One Foundation " might well be called the world's anthem of toleration , and the best expression in song of the rapidly growing sense of religious unity. It is a remarkable thing that a hymn written by a high churchman should serve this liberal purpose. It is sung wherever Christians of differing na7nes and creeds meet together, and probably it has done more to bring the many bodies of Christendom together than all the sermons preached with that aim. [196] THE ONE FOUNDATION 3. HE church's one foundation Is Jesus Christ, her Lord ; She is his new creation By water and the word. From heaven he came and sought her To be his holy bride ; With his own blood he bought her, And for her life he died. Elect from every nation Yet one o'er all the earth, Her charter of salvation One Lord, one faith, one birth ; One holy name she blesses, Partakes one holy food. And to one hope she presses, With every grace endued. Though with a scornful wonder, Men see her sore opprest. By schisms rent asunder, By heresies distrest ; Yet saints their watch are keeping, Their cry goes up, " How long ? " And soon the night of weeping Shall be the morn of song. 'Mid toil and tribulation, And tumult of her war. She waits the consummation Of peace for evermore ; Till with the vision glorious Her longing eyes are blest, And the great church victorious Shall be the church at rest. Yet she on earth hath union With God, the Three in One, And mystic sweet communion With those whose rest is won ; O happy ones and holy ! Lord, give us grace that we Like them, the meek and lowly. On high may dwell with thee. SAMUEL JOHN STONE [197] 1 HIS is another of Bishop Wordsworth* s Jine co77ipositions. It was written to be sung on Ascension Sunday. In the opinion of many this is Wordsworth's finest work in hytnnody ; at all events^ it is popular in the churches. [.98] THE ASCENDING KING c5eE the conqueror mounts in triumph ; See the king in royal state, Riding on the clouds, his chariot, To his heavenly palace gate ! Hark ! the choirs of angel voices Joyful alleluias sing, And the portals high are lifted To receive their heavenly king. Who is this that comes in glory, With the trump of jubilee ? Lord of battles, God of armies, He hath gained the victory. He who on the cross did suffer, He who from the grave arose. He has vanquished sin and Satan ; He by death has spoiled his foes. Thou hast raised our human nature. On the clouds to God's right hand ; There we sit in heavenly places, There with thee in glory stand ; Jesus reigns, adored by angels ; Man with God is on the throne ; Mighty Lord ! in thine ascension, We by faith behold our own. Lift us up from earth to heaven. Give us wings of faith and love. Gales of holy aspirations, Wafting us to realms above ; That, with hearts and minds uplifted, We with Christ our Lord may dwell. Where he sits enthroned in glory, In the heavenly citadel. So at last, when he appeareth, We from out our graves may spring. With our youth renewed b'ke eagles'. Flocking round our heavenly king, Caught up on the clouds of heaven. And may meet him in the air — Rise to realms where he is reigning, And may reign forever there. CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH [199] ^7''?.-'i^'"^^ S.' y-'-' f"^i^^^'\'-^ ^•^ 'V;- i^fj-'- f--* SABINE BARING-GOULD ("Exeter, Englafid, Jan. 28 y 18 J 4), an English clergy^ man, novelist^ antiquarian, and the writer of a number of well known hymns, was a Cajn- bridge man, graduating from Clare College in 18^6. In the coinparatively short ti?ne since this hymn was written, in 186^, it has become world famous, and to-day it would rank, in frequency of use, with the greatest of the hymns. Its popularity is probably due, in part, to the fact that it is one of the few martial songs suitable to church worship ; and, in no small degree, to the ringing tune which Sir Arthur Sullivan composed for it in i8y2. English soldiers often si fig it on the f?iarch, whole regi- ments taking up the strains, and it has been translated into many foreign tongues. [ 200 ] ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS O NWARD, 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. Refrain — Onward, Christian soldiers, Marching as to war. With the cross of Jesus, Going on before. 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 and doctrine, One in charity. Crowns and thrones may perish, Kingdoms rise and wane, But the church of Jesus Constant will remain ; Gates of hell can never 'Gainst that church prevail; We have Christ's own promise. And that cannot fail. Onward, then, ye people, Join our happy throng, Blend with ours your voices In the triumph song ; Glory, laud, and honor. Unto Christ the King ; This through countless ages. Men and angels sing. SABINE BARING-GOULD [201] }wkM IVlANT look on this as the finest piece of work by Bishop How. It consisted originally of eleven stanzas^ the eight given here being those most commonly used in worship. It was written about 1864. [ 202 ] THE VICTORIOUS ARMY J. OR all the saints who from their labors rest, Who thee by faith before the world confessed, Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blessed. Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might j Thou, Lord, their captain in the well fought fight ; Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true light. Hallelujah, HaUelujah ! O may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold, Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old. And win with them the victor's crown of gold. Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! O blest communion, fellowship divine ! We feebly struggle, they in glory shine ; Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine. Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long. Steals on the ear the distant triumph song, And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong. Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! The golden evening brightens in the west ; Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes thy rest j Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest. Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! But lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day ; The saints triumphant rise in bright array ; The King of Glory passes on his way. Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast. Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host, Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, " Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! " WILLIAM WALSHAM HOW [203] 1^ HILE James W. Alexander (Hopewell, Va.y March /j, 1 804 — Red Sweet Springs, Va., 'July J/, l8^g) deserves nmch credit for his sympathetic rendering of this hymn, its authorship goes back to Bernard of Clairvaux ( logi—ll^j ), the outstanding ecclesiastical figure of the second crusade, a great poet, a great politician, and a ?nighty power in his day. In 16^6 Paul Gerhardt translated these stanzas of Bernard' s longer hyftin into Ger- man, and since then it has been one of the best known hymns of that people. In 18 2g Dr. Alexander prepared his translation, but it was not given to the public until twenty years later. The gifted translator was for 7uany years the pastor of the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian church in New Tork. [204] O SACRED HEAD o SACRED head, now wounded, With grief and shame weighed down, Now scornfully surrounded With thorns, thine only crown ; O sacred head, what glory. What bliss, till now was thine ! Yet, though despised and gory, 1 joy to call thee mine. What thou, my Lord, hast suffered Was all for sinners' gain ; Mine, mine was the transgression. But thine the deadly pain. Lo, here I fall, my Savior I 'T is I deserve thy place; Look on me with thy favoti, Vouchsafe to me thy grace. The joy can ne'er be spoken Above all joys beside, When in thy body broken I thus with safety hide. My Lord of life, desiring Thy glory now to see. Beside thy cross expiring, I'd breathe my soul to thee. What language shall 1 borrow To praise thee, heavenly Friend, For this, thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end ! Lord, make me thine forever. Nor let me faithless prove; O, let me never, never. Abuse such dying love. Forbid that I should leave thee ; O Jesus, leave not me ! By faith 1 would receive thee ; Thy blood can make me free ! When strength and comfort languish And 1 must hence depart. Release me then from anguish By thine own wounded heart. Be near when I am dying, O ! show thy cross to me ! And for my succor flying, Come, Lord, to set me free ! These eyes, new faith receiving, From Jesus shall not move; For he who dies believing, Dies safely — through thy love. BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX [205] FrIEDRICH RUDOLPH LUDWIG, Baron von Canitz (l6^4—l6gg)y is the author of this beautiful hymn, which, even in the ab- brevi ate d form in which it usually is printed, is little known in this country. The transla- tion was made by the Rev. Henry fames Buckroll, [ 206] MORNING ASPIRATION C^OME, my soul, thou must be waking — Now is breaking O'er the earth another day ; Come to him who made this splendor — See thou render AU thy feeble powers can pay. From the stars thy course be learning; Dimly burning, 'Neath the sun their light grows pale; So let all that sense delighted. While benighted From God's presence, fade and fail. Lo! how all of breath partaking. Gladly waking. Hail the sun's enlivening light ! Plants, whose life mere sap doth nourish. Rise and flourish When he breaks the shades of night. Thou, too, hail the light returning — Ready burning Be the incense of thy powers ; For the night is safely ended — God had tended. With his care, thy helpless hours. Pray that he may prosper ever Each endeavor. When thine aim is good and true; But that be may ever thwart thee And convert thee. When thou evil wouldst pursue. Think that he thy ways beholdcth — He unfoldcth Every fault that lurks within ; Every stain of shame gloss'd over Can discover. And discern each deed of sin. Only God's free gifts abuse not. His light refuse not, Bui still bis spirit's voice obey ; Soon shall Joy thy brow be wreathing. Splendor breathing. Fairer than the fairest day. If aught of care this morn oppress thee, To him address thee. Who, like the sun, is good to all ; He gilds the mountain tops, the while His gracious smile Will on the humblest valley fall. Round thee gifts his bounty showers; Walls and towers, Gin with flames, thy God shall rear; Angel legions lo defend tbcc ; Shall attend thee — Hosts whom Satan's self shall fear. BARON VON CANITZ [207]