SONG VICTORIES 
 
 WITH 1310 GRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF 
 
 IRA D. SAN KEY AND P. P. BLISS. 
 
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 i>OST(M: D. LOTHROP & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, i 
 
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 {.UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
SONG VICTORIES 
 
 OF 
 
 "THE BLISS AND SANIEY HYMNS," 
 
 BEING A COLLECTION OF ONE HUNDRED INCI- 
 DENTS IN REGARD TO THE ORIGIN AND 
 POWER OF THE HYMNS CONTAINED 
 IN "GOSPEL HYMNS AND 
 SACRED SONGS." 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTORY LETTER 
 By REV. GEO. F. PENTECOST, D.D. 
 
 AND AN APPENDIX 
 
 CONTAINING BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF 
 
 MK. IRA D. SANKEY ^nd MR. P. P. BLISS. 
 
 
 
 No.. 
 
 "oi/m 
 
 Boston: 
 Published by 0. Xothrop & Co. 
 
 (Lover, Jf. H.t G. T. (Day &> Co. 
 
-ft/* 1 ' 
 
 Copyright by 
 
 D. LOTHROP & CO 
 
 1877. 
 
 t» CeuoRsaa 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
TO 
 
 the singing evangelists, 
 
 THIS LITTLE BOOK 
 
 IS DEDICATED, WITH THE PRAYER THAT 
 
 IT MAY LEAD OTHERS TO 
 
 SING THE GOSPEL. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introductory Letter 7 
 
 [What a Pastor has Felt and Seen of the Power of Sacred Song.] 
 
 The Power of Song upon Childhood. ... 8 
 
 Power of Song in Young Manhood. V 
 
 Song as a Deliverer 11 
 
 Song as a Help to Consecration. • . •_ 16 
 
 Song as a Means of Conversion. . • . 17 
 
 Hymns in Public Worshtp 19 
 
 Hymns in the Prayer-Meeting 20 
 
 The Power of Song in the Revival Work of 
 
 Moody and Sankey. 21 
 
 Hymn Incidents, • . 31 
 
 Consecrated Voices 125 
 
 Appendix. 129 
 
 Biographical Sketch of Mr. I. D. Sankey. . • . 129 
 
 Biographical Sketch of Mr. P. P. Bliss. . . . 139 
 
 3 
 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX 
 
 OF 
 
 HYMN INCIDENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Almost persuaded, . ' 115 
 
 All hail the power of Jesus' name, • • • 91 
 Arise, my soul, arise, • .118 
 
 Brightly beams our Father's mercy, .... 48 
 
 Come home! come home I 46 
 
 Come thou Fount of every blessing, .... 119 
 
 Depths of mercy! can there be, 108 
 
 Free from the law, oh happy condition, . . . 112 
 
 Guide me, O thou Great Jehovah, .... 112 
 
 Have you on the Lord believed ? 106 
 
 Hold the fort, .47 
 
 I am coming to the cross, . . . . . .51 
 
 I am so glad that our Father in heaven, ... 31 
 4 
 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX. 5 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I gave my life for thee, ••••••60 
 
 I hear the Saviour say, 43 
 
 In the Christian's home in glory, . • • • . 55 
 
 Jesus, lover of my soul, 62 
 
 Just as I am without one plea, . 120 
 
 Light in the darkness, sailor, 50 
 
 Lord, I hear of showers of blessing, .... 57 
 
 My faith looks up to Thee, 102 
 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, , 100 
 
 O for a thousand tongues to sing, 9S 
 
 Only an armor-hearer, 51 
 
 Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, . . . 122 
 
 Ring the bells of heaven, 53 
 
 Rock of Ages, cleft for me, ...... S6 
 
 Safe in the arms of Jesus, ...... 5S 
 
 Sowing the seed by the daylight fair, - . . . .37 
 
 Stand up, stand up for Jesus, 119 
 
 There is a fountain filled with blood, .... 93 
 
 There is a gate that stands ajar, 43 
 
6 ALPHABETICAL INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 There is a land of pure delight, • • • • • 116 
 
 There were ninety and nine, 107 
 
 To-day the Saviour calls, 60 
 
 What means this eager, anxious throng ? . .40 
 
 Yet there is room! the Lamb's bright hall of song, . 45 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 ' Sing ye praises with the understanding." 
 
 " Our days of praise shall ne'er be past 
 
 While life and thought and being last, 
 
 Or immortality endures.' ■ 
 
 I have fancied sometimes the Bethel-bent beam 
 
 That trembled to earth in the Patriarch's dream, 
 
 Was a ladder of song in that wilderness rest 
 
 From the pillow of stone to the blue of the Blest, 
 
 And the angels descending to dwell with us here, 
 
 " Old Hundred," and "Corinth," and "China," and "Mear." 
 
 WHAT A PASTOR HAS FELT AND SEEK OF THE 
 POWER OF SACRED SONG, 
 
 BY BEV. GEO. F. PENTECOST, OF BOSTON. 
 
 My Dear Brother: 
 
 You ask me to give you, from my own 
 personal experience and observation, any facts 
 
 7 
 
8 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 in relation to the use and power of sacred soig 
 in connection with the work of the Ho.y 
 Spirit for the conversion and sanctification Df 
 sinners ; and I most gladly bear my testimony. 
 I presume my experience is not different 
 in kind from that of all other Christians who 
 have submitted themselves to God under this 
 wonderful instrument of the Spirit. 
 
 THE POWEK OF SONG UPON CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Some of my earliest religious awakenings 
 were in connection with the hymns for chil- 
 dren that were just beginning to be sung in 
 the Sabbath-schools when I was yet a little 
 boy. I mention one beginning: 
 
 "I think when I read that sweet story of old, 
 
 When Jesus was here among men, 
 How He called little children like lambs to His fold: 
 
 I should like to have been with them then." 
 
 That little hymn would always quiet me 
 and beget within my heart seriousness and 
 longing. When as a child I used to hear or 
 sing it, I would wonder if there was any bless- 
 ing that I might have from Jesus that would 
 correspond to His calling little children to Him, 
 
TBOPHIES OF SONG. 9 
 
 and laying His gentle, loving hands on their 
 heads and blessing them. And in after years, 
 when I had grown to be a young man, away 
 from home, and far from God by wicked 
 works, that little hymn of my childhood 
 would often come to my memory; and more 
 than once I have sung it with choking voice 
 and tearful eye, and with motions of real 
 penitence in my heart. It is true that these 
 effects were transient, but they were real and 
 mighty ; and I doubt not that God used that 
 child's hymn and the sweet echoes of many 
 others — now forgotten — to keep my heart 
 from becoming perfectly hardened against His 
 "gentle voice." 
 
 POWEE OF SONG IN YOUNG MANHOOD. 
 
 To-day, on looking back over the fourteen 
 years that have passed since I gave my life to 
 Jesus, among the precious recollections of 
 those happy days I recall a few dear old hymns 
 that sung themselves into my heart, and taught 
 me truths of God that otherwise I might not 
 have learned, and led me to the sources of 
 joy and delight which otherwise I might not 
 
10 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 have found. I can hear those voices now, that 
 used to lead the singing in that blessed revival 
 time. Some of them, it is true, were poor and 
 cracked and discordant — it was a congrega- 
 tion of "common people" — and would have 
 utterly spoiled and ruined any songs other than 
 those of the sanctuary, that were sung in 
 those hours of the Spirit's presence and power, 
 with hearts making melody to the Lord. I 
 think it was the singing of that simple old 
 hymn and chorus — which I now quote — that 
 awakened in me the desire to be a Christian, 
 by setting before me its promise of "sweetest 
 pleasure" and "solid comfort" in strong con- 
 trast with the unsatisfying portions I was get- 
 ting from worldly pleasures, and the fear and 
 dread of death that was so constantly before 
 me: — 
 
 " 'Tis religion that can give, 
 In the light, in the light, 
 Sweetest pleasure while we live; 
 In the light of God. 
 
 'Tis religion must supply, 
 
 In the light, in the light, 
 Solid comfort when we die, 
 
 In the light of God. 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 11 
 
 Let us walk in the light, 
 
 In the light, in the light, 
 Let us walk in the light, 
 
 In the light of God." 
 
 Eternity only will reveal the power that 
 hymn had over me, both in bringing me to 
 God, and in strengthening and encouraging 
 me in the first days of trial and temptation 
 that came to me as a young Christian. 
 
 Time would fail me to speak at length 
 of my experimental relations to those old 
 classics, — 
 
 "There is a fountain filled with blood," 
 " Rock of ages, cleft for me," 
 "Jesus, lover of my soul," &c. 
 
 SONG AS A DELIVERER. 
 
 I am profoundly sure that among the di- 
 vinely ordained instrumentalities for the con- 
 version and sanctification of the soul, God 
 has not given a greater, beside the preaching 
 of the gospel, than the singing of "psalms 
 and hymns and spiritual songs." I have 
 known a hymn to do God's work in a soul 
 when every other instrumentality has failed. 
 I could not enumerate the times God has 
 
12 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 rescued and saved my soul from darkness, 
 discouragement, and weariness, by the sing- 
 ing of a hymn, generally by bringing one to 
 my own heart and causing me to sing it to 
 myself. 
 
 A year or two after I entered the minis- 
 try, I passed through an experience that on 
 the dark side of it culminated in leading me 
 to believe not only that I had been mistaken 
 in supposing that God had called me to the 
 work of the ministry, but also that I was 
 even mistaken in supposing that I was a 
 Christian at all. Oh! the blackness and dark- 
 ness of those hours! I cannot portray the 
 dense gloom that gathered about my soul, 
 and was fairly pressing me down to hell. 
 In this fearful state of mind, having almost 
 yielded up to despair, I was returning to my 
 home from a neighboring town where I had 
 been assisting(?) a "ministering brother" in 
 a " protracted meeting." I got aboard the 
 train, flung myself into a seat next a win- 
 dow of the car, and made another desperate 
 effort to recover myself, my faith, my hope, 
 my confidence in God. I prayed in Spirit, 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 13 
 
 I even called aloud on God, unmindful of 
 the people around me; I went over the 
 promises, and searched my memory through 
 for some word of the Lord that would bring 
 me help. But God's Word was a silent and 
 sealed book for me, and my heart seemed to 
 be turning into stone. In the midst of this 
 wretchedness I was looking out of the car 
 window up into the star-lit heavens, and won- 
 dering if there was a God, if there was any 
 Jesus, any Christ, if there was any hereafter. 
 While thus gazing into the dimly lighted 
 darkness without, from out of the midnight 
 darkness within, with only the numb sense 
 of my own wretchedness, as a man might 
 feel who knows he is freezing to death with- 
 out power to help himself, and; indeed, not 
 caring to any longer, because it seems easier 
 to die, I heard the low voice of singing in 
 my heart, I say I heard the voice of singing 
 within me, and harkening I caught the words 
 of it, and with my own lips in low, tremu- 
 lous tones began to sing, — 
 
 " Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
 AH to leave and follow Thee : 
 Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, 
 Thou from hence my all shall be." 
 
14 TEOPHTES OF SONG. 
 
 I wondered at myself and at the song — I found 
 my heart softening — I knew that tears were 
 in my eyes — I felt them running down my 
 cheeks — I was away back with Jesus on the 
 cross — I heard his cry, "My God! My God! 
 why hast thou forsaken me?" and in that 
 same moment the Holy Ghost gave me fellow- 
 ship with my Saviour, and I knew that cry 
 from him was not for himself alone, but for 
 me. I sang on through the hymn with still 
 melting heart, with returning faith, hope and 
 confidence, until in a perfect ecstacy of peace 
 I reached the lines, — 
 
 " Oh, 'tis not in griefs to harm me, 
 While Thy love is left to me; 
 Oh ! 'twere not in joy to charm me, 
 Were that joy unmixed with Thee." 
 
 And then, like a comforted child, I fairly laid 
 my weary heart against His dear loving heart, 
 knowing in my soul that He loved me, that 
 He died and rose again for me, that He lived 
 for me and that as never before we were united 
 to each other. Thus that precious hymn was 
 God's hand reached out to save me when I 
 was sinking; thus He was pleased to manifest 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 15 
 
 Himself to me in a sweeter, surer, and stronger 
 way than I had yet known him. He had 
 chosen to do this by and in a hymn, rather 
 than by prayer, or meditation, or promise. As 
 the cake baked on the coals and the cruse 
 of water at his head were to Elijah, so was 
 that hymn to me ; at least it was the hand 
 of the angel that touched me and pointed me 
 to the "true bread" and the "living water" 
 in the strength of which, having eaten and 
 drank, I went many days, yea, and am still 
 even now walking. 
 
 SONG AS A HELP TO CONSECRATION. 
 
 Years after when I was passing through con- 
 secration into deeper fellowship with the Lord, 
 it pleased him to use that same hymn again ; 
 this time not so much for immediate comfort 
 as for searching. By inward teaching the 
 Spirit was making me to know something of 
 the meaning of the Master when he said, "If 
 any man will come after me let him deny 
 himself and take up Ms cross daily and follow 
 me" Whilst I was learning somewhat pain- 
 fully this lesson, I was one day suddenly 
 
16 TKOPHXES OF SONG. 
 
 checked in the singing of this, one of my 
 favorite hymns, with the distinct question, 
 " can yon truly sing, — 
 
 * Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
 All to leave and follow Thee?' " 
 
 I say I found myself checked in the singing 
 of it for a long time ; until, in my deepest 
 heart and purpose, I had truly denied myself 
 into his hands, to be " armed with the same 
 mind." But now, " thanks be unto God who 
 always giveth us the victory," after having 
 been searched by it, as I was never searched 
 before, I can joyfully and honestly sing that 
 doubly dear old hymn " in the Spirit and with 
 the understanding also." The Lord always 
 makes it a great comfort and power to my 
 soul. And as a response to that hymn, now, 
 always come those lines of Charles Wesley's 
 great psalm, — 
 
 " Thou, Christ t art all I want, 
 More than all in Thee I find." 
 
 I might magnify the grace of God ministered 
 to me, by reference to many more hymns, 
 but as the above may serve for illustrations 
 of the use God has made of hymns in deal 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 17 
 
 ing with my own soul, I pass to record, in 
 a similar manner, the power of song as I 
 have witnessed it in others, coming under 
 my own pastoral care. 
 
 SONG AS A MEANS OF CONVERSION. 
 
 I said above that I have known a hymn 
 to be used of God for the conversion of a 
 soul where every other means had failed to 
 bring light into the darkened and troubled 
 heart. Once I was detained after prayer- 
 meeting with a few others, to converse and 
 pray with a young woman who was under 
 deep conviction, and who refused to go away 
 from the place of prayer until she had found 
 Jesus. It seemed to be all in vain that I 
 talked with her, explaining the atonement, 
 quoting the simplest and strongest promises 
 of the gospel, and urging her to an imme- 
 diate and simple faith; it was all in vain 
 that I prayed with and for her. At last, 
 because — as it seemed — I could do nothing 
 else, I began to sing that little hymn, the 
 last verse of which goes, — 
 
 " Oh! bear my longing heart to Him 
 Who bled and died for me; 
 
18 TEOPHTES OF SONG. 
 
 Whose blood now cleanses from all sin, 
 And gives me victory." 
 
 We had sung the whole hymn through, and 
 were hushed into silence by the Spirit. Dur- 
 ing the singing of the last stanza, our friend 
 had lifted her weeping face toward mine, 
 and was looking intently and eagerly at me, 
 as though she would fain drink in the words 
 and power of the song. And now in the 
 hush that was upon us, reaching out both 
 her hands to me, she said, in a plaintive 
 kind of whisper, — 
 
 "Please sing that last verse again." 
 
 And again we sang, softly and tenderly, — 
 
 " Oh ! bear my longing soul to Him 
 Who bled and died for me; 
 Whose blood now cleanses from all sin, 
 And gives me victory." 
 
 As the words and melody died away, the 
 expression of her face changed; the darkness 
 was overpast, and the light and gladness of 
 His peace had come in the place of it; and 
 with a cry of joy she turned and flung her- 
 self into the arms of her sister, who was 
 standing near, exclaiming, "I am saved! I 
 am saved ! ! Oh ! blessed Jesus," &c. 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 19 
 
 Incidents of this kind might be multiplied, 
 but this one may suffice to illustrate the 
 power of song in the conversion of souls to 
 God. 
 
 HYMSTS IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 It would be easy to fill many pages with 
 interesting facts in connection with the use 
 of hymns in the public worship of the house 
 of God. I have seen vast audiences melted 
 and swayed by a simple hymn when they 
 have been unmoved by a powerful presenta- 
 tion of the gospel from the pulpit. From 
 close and repeated observation, I am per- 
 suaded that Mr. Spurgeon, the great met- 
 ropolitan preacher of England, places great 
 reliance on the use of his hymns in public 
 worship. By them he prepares his vast au 
 diences for the service that is to follow ; and 
 fastens his discourse with a hymn, which he 
 always reads with great power, and which is 
 sung by that vast choir of 7500 people with 
 an effect that is indescribable. Indeed, the 
 use of hymns in the service of the sanctuary, 
 when in the hands of a pastor or leader who 
 understands and feels the inspiration of them, 
 
20 TBOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 cannot be too highly estimated. It is a 
 great pity that the power of "psalms and 
 hymns and spiritual songs" has been so sadly 
 weakened, if not utterly destroyed by the 
 introduction of " fancy quartettes," who sing 
 neither with the " spirit nor with the under- 
 standing," and who practically forbid any one 
 else to sing. Lord, hasten the day when the 
 service of song shall be restored to the people. 
 
 IN THE PRAYER -MEETING 
 
 Hymns are simply indispensable. A pastor 
 skilled in the use of them holds the prayer- 
 meeting almost absolutely in his power. An 
 unfortunate or ill-timed address or exhortation 
 may be covered by a hymn, and the people's 
 hearts and minds brought back to God. A 
 pungent address, a ringing testimony, or a pre- 
 valing prayer may be strongly supplemented and 
 reinforced by a well chosen hymn promptly 
 and sweetly sung, which, without giving out 
 page or number, shall have sprung spontane- 
 ously from the lips of the pastor or any brother 
 or sister in the congregation who has spiritual 
 discernment. For myself I should feel utterly 
 
TROPHIES OF SOISTG. 21 
 
 lost, and without " sword. " or " trowel " for the 
 building and defence of the walls of Zion, if I 
 were without the "armory " and " kit " of hymns 
 which God has given the church " to profit 
 withal." 
 
 THE POWER OF SONG IN THE BEVIVAL WOEK 
 OF MOODY AND SANKEY. 
 
 I shall close this letter by giving a brief 
 account of the triumph of song as seen in 
 connection with the great revival of the last 
 few years on both sides of the Atlantic. All 
 know the story of the "two " simple-hearted and 
 " unlearned " men — Moody and Sankey — who 
 went only a few years ago, " led of the spirit," 
 to the British Isles, to preach and sing the gos- 
 pel " there also." Moody with his open Bible, 
 Sankey w T ith his budget of stirring hymns, and 
 his sweet God-given and sanctified voice. It 
 is exceedingly doubtful from all the testimony 
 I could gather which had the most to do 
 in the awakening and stirring which Scot- 
 land and Ireland have received at their hands. 
 Whether most is to be ascribed to Moody's 
 preaching, or Sankey 's singing — one with sim- 
 
22 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 pie words of truth, the other with sweetest 
 song — represent a two-edged instrument which 
 the Holy Spirit has been pleased to use in the 
 accomplishment of this mighty work. But 
 certain it is that whoever visits Scotland for 
 years to come will know that Sanhey has been 
 there, for he has sung a hundred sweet 
 songs into the hearts and spiritual lives of 
 more than twenty thousand converts to Jesus, 
 and has filled the whole land, Highlands and 
 Lowlands, with their sacred echoes. 
 
 Eminent Scotch clergymen told me, while 
 in conversation with them on this subject, that 
 it was Sankey's singing that melted the hearts 
 of the people and made an open door for 
 Moody with his Bible lessons, for such they 
 were rather than sermons. Of course this is 
 not mentioned to disparage the preaching of 
 the gospel — God forbid — but only to show 
 the relation of song to the spoken word. This 
 service of song in Scotland was not a passing 
 gift — it is a permanent legacy. None may 
 reproduce Moody's matchless Bible expositions, 
 but all Scotland for years to come will sing 
 Sankey's songs. 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 23 
 
 It was in the Barkley church in Edinburgh 
 where these apostles of the Word and song be- 
 gan their work, having been invited thither 
 by the noble pastor, Rev. James Wilson, who 
 was an advanced advocate of " hymns and 
 spiritual songs" as well as "psalms" I was 
 in that church, the guest of the pastor, during 
 a crowded Thursday evening prayer-meeting. 
 In deference to the time-honored custom of 
 the Scotch, Mr. Wilson gave out a paraphrase 
 of one of David's psalms. The congregation 
 did bravely and well, considering the meter 
 and the melody (?). But after the meeting 
 was formally opened, the book of Paraphrases 
 was quietly tucked under the pulpit and one 
 of our little American hymns announced : — ■ 
 
 *I hear thy gentle voice, 
 
 That calls me, Lord, to thee ; 
 For cleansing in the precions Mood 
 That flowed on Calvary." 
 
 In a twinkling every one present whipped out 
 of pocket a little penny copy of "Sankey's 
 Hymns ; " every face was radiant, and every 
 voice was vocal. The house seemed filled 
 with the Spirit, and every heart seemed to be 
 
24 TEOPKLES OF SONG. 
 
 pouring out its faith, and hope to God in the 
 hymn that had in all probability led many 
 )f those present to Christ, and had quick- 
 ened the faith and hope of all. I hope the 
 Paraphrases will not be given up, and I am 
 sure they will not ; but they will be improved, 
 some of them, and sung all the better for the 
 baptism that they are being baptized with — 
 how are they straitened until it be accom- 
 plished. I witnessed the same effect in Dr. 
 Wallace's great congregation in Glasgow, the 
 same in Dr. Bonar's church, the same in the 
 great noonday meetings in Assembly Hall, and 
 in other places that I visited. Indeed, Scot- 
 land is ringing with songs and gladness to-day. 
 Riding once from Ayr to Glasgow on a third- 
 class train crowded with the " common peo- 
 ple," who had been off on some excursion, 
 my ears were filled all the way with the mel- 
 ody of those revival hymns, which rose ever 
 and anon above the noise of the rushing train, 
 and rang out clear and beautiful when we 
 stopped for a few moments at the stations along 
 the line. It seemed as though we were on 
 board the very car of salvation, being speeded 
 
TEOPHIES OF SONG. 25 
 
 along by bands of singing angels come to con- 
 voy us. 
 
 Again, one Sunday evening I left my 
 hotel in Glasgow to go to Dr. Andrew 
 Bonar's church, some two miles distant. On 
 my way I was treated to a novel spectacle, 
 and one which was repeated every few hun- 
 dred yards until I reached the church. I 
 will describe it : I had gone but a little 
 way from the hotel when my ears were 
 greeted with the familiar strains : — 
 
 "Safe in the arms of Jesus, 
 Safe on His gentle breast, 
 There by His love o'ershaded, 
 Sweetly my soul shall rest." 
 
 Looking ahead of me I saw a crowd, from 
 whence came the singing. Pressing up I 
 joined the multitude of men, women and 
 children gathered about a little band of 
 brothers and sisters in the Lord, who were 
 holding a service of song on the street cor- 
 ner. This little company could not preach, 
 in the technical sense of that word, but they 
 could sing the glad gospel out on the even- 
 ing air, and thus say to all, "come!" I 
 
26 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 was very deeply impressed with their simple 
 service, for they were evidently engaging in 
 it as a matter that was to be done unto 
 the Lord. As they passed from the singing 
 of one hymn to another, sometimes slipping 
 in a brief prayer between, I noted the effect 
 upon the crowd. Though made up mostly 
 of the street rabble, such as is seen only in 
 the large cities of Great Britain, it was 
 hushed into quiet, and even eager attention 
 to the singing. My attention was called to 
 some faces grown serious and thoughtful as 
 they hearkened to words of love and hope, 
 and more than once I saw the tears stealing 
 down the grim cheek of some sinner unused 
 to weep. Thus was God at work in those 
 neglected hearts, and doubtless His dear love 
 crept into many a soul through those songs. 
 As I have already said, these singing bands 
 with their attendant crowds w r ere stationed 
 all the way down the long street to the 
 church, at intervals of a few hundred yards, 
 and doubtless other of the principal streets 
 of the city were similarly occupied. In no 
 other way, it seems to me, could the gospel 
 
TBOPHIES OF SONG. 27 
 
 have been so effectually preached to that 
 class of people. 
 
 At Dr. Bonar's church, which I reached at 
 last, I found the same programme, only a 
 little extended. There was no preacher — it 
 was vacation time — but a few earnest brethren 
 were occupying the platform, who in turn 
 would speak a few words, perhaps relate some 
 incident connected with the great revival, or 
 rehearse the story of some remarkable con- 
 version, and then a hymn would be announced 
 — for instance : — 
 
 "I hear the Saviour say, 
 
 Thy strength indeed is small," 
 
 and then the whole congregation worshiping 
 God would fill the church with the sound 
 of their song. 
 
 These incidents, as those of the other classes 
 given above, might be multiplied, but perhaps 
 enough has been said. 
 
 In concluding this letter, will it be out of 
 place to express the hope and venture the 
 prediction that this revival of sacred song is 
 the forerunner or first fruits of a general 
 
28 TROPHIES OF SOSTG. 
 
 revival of religion in the church of God? I 
 believe it, and hail it as one who, watching 
 for the morning, hails the gray dawn and roseate 
 light in the East. " Even so, come Lord Jesus, 
 come quickly." 
 
INCIDENTS ASSOCIATED 
 
 WITH OUR 
 
 POPULAR HYMNS 
 
 When Haydn was asked why his music was 
 so cheerful, he replied, "I can't make any 
 other. I write as I feel. When I think on 
 God my heart is so full of joy that the notes 
 dance and leap from my pen." 
 
 29 
 
" We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs, 
 High as the heavens our voices raise." 
 
 "Lord, teach our songs to rise; 
 Thy love can animate the strain, 
 And bid it reach tlie skies." 
 
 " Learning here, by faith and love, 
 Songs of praise to sing above." 
 
 "The great salvation loud proclaim, 
 And shout for Joy the Saviour's name.*' 
 
 " With calmly reverential joy, 
 Oh, let us all our lives employ 
 
 In setting forth thy love ; 
 And raise in death our triumph higher, 
 And sing with all the heavenly choir, 
 
 The endless song above." 
 
 St. Augustine thus describes the effect which the music had upon 
 him as he entered the church at Milan the first time after he was 
 converted to Christianity: " The voices floated in at my ears, the 
 truth was distilled at mv heart, and the affection of piety over- 
 flowed in the sweet tears of joy." 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 31 
 
 HYMN INCIDENTS. 
 
 "I AM SO GLAD THAT OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN 
 TELLS OF HIS LOYE IN THE BOOK HE HAS GIVEN." 
 
 This popular song, which was the rallying cry 
 of the great revival in Scotland and also of many 
 in America, was suggested to Mr. Bliss by hear- 
 ing very frequently the chorus, — 
 
 " O how I love Jesus!" 
 
 He said to himself, " I have sung long enough of 
 my poor love for Christ, and now I will sing of 
 Sis love for me" He sat down and wrote the 
 delightful and inspiring song of which the first 
 verse is, — 
 
 " I am so glad that our Father in heaven 
 Tells of his love in the Book he has given; 
 
 Wonderful things in the Bible I see, 
 This is the dearest that Jesus loves me." 
 
 One Sunday a man came into our Sunday- 
 school at the Boston North End Mission, 
 drawn by the sweetness of the children's sing- 
 ing. He remained until the close, and came 
 
32 TKOPHIES OF SOKG. 
 
 again that evening to our prayer-meeting. 
 When the customary invitation to seek the 
 Saviour was given, he came forward and found 
 " peace in believing." To a few of us who. 
 had remained to pray with the penitent seek- 
 ers he said, "My friends, I feel that I'm a 
 saved man, and I owe it to your children's sing- 
 ing c Jesus loves me^ this afternoon. I couldn't 
 realize it, I've been such a miserable sinner; 
 but after I went away I thought it over, ' Je- 
 sus loves me ; ' and then I thought of the 
 next line, 'For the Bible tells me so,' and I 
 tried to believe it, and I came here this evening 
 to get you to pray for me." He became a 
 regular attendant at the Mission, and while 
 with us gave the clearest evidence of a gen- 
 uine change of heart. 
 
 This is but one of very many similar in- 
 stances of almost weekly occurrence at this 
 Mission. This same man soon after felt called 
 by the Holy Spirit to prepare himself for the 
 Christian ministry, and at present he is reg- 
 ularly occupying a pulpit in Massachusetts, 
 spending much of his time during the week 
 in lecturing upon the evils of intemperance. 
 
 E. Tourjee. 
 
TEOPHIES OF SONG. 33 
 
 At one of the revival meetings at Edinburgh 
 a gay, giddy girl attended. She went late and 
 was unable to get a seat, so she wandered about 
 in the hall outside. Inside the church they 
 were singing, led by Mr. Sankey : — 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad 
 That Jesus loves me, 
 Jesus loves me, 
 Jesus loves me," 
 
 The words went to her heart and her conscience, 
 and she said, " I cannot sing that." When that 
 meeting broke up she went to the meeting for 
 anxious inquiries, and is now a rejoicing Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 A Missionary of the American Sunday- 
 School Union in Missouri, after he had organized 
 a Sunday-school recently, sang to them Mr. 
 Bliss' delightful song, — 
 
 " I am so glad that Jesus loves me," 
 
 and followed it with the question, " Are you 
 glad ? If not, why ? " He had hardly finished 
 when a young man rose, and rushing up to him, 
 threw his arms around his neck, sobbing, " Oh, 
 
34 TROPHIES OF SOffG. 
 
 sir, you must not leave here till I'm a Christian ! " 
 Prayer was offered for him, and he was saved. 
 Then he exclaimed, " Oh, that song ! I could 
 not get away from it and it has saved me." 
 
 A young woman in England went to a meet- 
 ing where she heard Mr. Sankey singing this 
 same hymn, — 
 
 "I am so glad that Jesus loves me," 
 
 and while the hymn was being sung, began to 
 feel for the first time in her life that she was a 
 sinner. All her sins came up in array before 
 her ; and so numerous and aggravated did her 
 sins appear, that she imagined she never could 
 be saved. She said in her heart, " Jesus cannot 
 love me. He could not love such a sinner as I." 
 She went home in a state of extreme mental 
 anguish, and did not sleep that night. Every 
 opportunity of obtaining more light was eagerly 
 seized. She took her place in the "Enquiry 
 Room." There she found to her astonishment 
 and joy that Jesus could^ did, does love sinners. 
 She saw in God's opened Word that it was for 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 35 
 
 sinners Jesus died, and for none others. When 
 she realized this she too began to sing : 
 
 " I am so glad that Jesus loves me, 
 Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me, even me." 
 
 In a praise meeting, during the recent revival 
 services in Chicago, Mr. Sankey spoke as follows 
 in regard to the power of this and other hymns : 
 
 " What I have to thank God especially for is 
 the wonderful way He has used the power of 
 song. I remember about five years ago coming 
 to yonder depot one morning early. It was my 
 first visit to this great city, and I knew none 
 here save one man. I went along Madison 
 Street, up State Street, to the North Side, and 
 met my dear brother Moody. I had met him 
 one year before in a distant State, while he was 
 engaged in the work of the Master. As I went 
 along those streets I recollect how I wondered if 
 God had a work here for me in my coming to 
 this city, or whether I had come on my own vo- 
 lition, and how while thinking in this way I sent 
 up a prayer to God to bless me in the service in 
 which I was about to engage. With thankful- 
 
36 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 ness I remember the very first day I spent in 
 this city. Somewhere down here we came 
 among the sick and lowly, and went from one 
 house to another singing and praying with the, 
 people ; and what a blessing we received ! 
 
 " God led us into other fields. I remember 
 when the Tabernacle was rebuilt how I used to 
 enjoy gathering the little people in, and teach- 
 ing them those sweet songs that are already en- 
 circling the globe. Yes, encircling the globe, 
 for but a few days ago I received a copy of these 
 Gospel hymns printed in the Chinese language. 
 They are sung in Africa and Asia, and are heard 
 in France and Germany, England and America. 
 I remember what peace and pleasure I had as I 
 first taught these little hymns on the North Side. 
 One day a lady called on me when I first had 
 those classes, and said, 4 There is a little singing 
 girl belonging to one of your classes who is dy- 
 ing. She wants you to go and see her.' I went 
 to her home — a little frame cottage, — and 
 there I found a little maid dying — one whom I 
 had known so well in the Thursday evening 
 meetings. I said, » My dear child, how is it with 
 you ? ' 4 Will you pray for my father and 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 37 
 
 mother as you pray for us ? " was the reply. 
 1 But how is it with yourself ? ' I again asked. 
 6 Oh, sir,' she answered, ' they tell me I am about 
 to die, but I have found the Lord Jesus Christ.' 
 6 When did you become a Christian ? ' I inquired. 
 6 Don't you remember one Thursday when you 
 were teaching me to sing — 
 
 " { "I am so glad that Jesus loves me, 
 Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me;" 
 
 and don't you remember how you told us that if 
 we only gave our hearts to Him, He would love 
 us? — and I gave it to Him.' 
 
 " What that little dying girl said to me helped 
 to cheer me on more than anything I had heard 
 before, because she was my first convert. Thank 
 God, there have been many since." 
 
 "sowing the seed by the daylight fair." 
 
 Ik one of the temperance meetings connected 
 with Mr. Moody's revival labors in Chicago, a 
 very intelligent reformed drunkard attributed 
 his reform to the influence of this hymn. 
 
 He confessed that it was difficult to speak 
 about past experiences, especially when a man 
 
38 TROPHIES OF SOKG. 
 
 had been a heavy drinker, as he had been for 
 sixteen years. He began sixteen years before 
 by taking his first bottle of ale in the back room 
 of a country store, and then, entering the array, 
 he had plunged into dissipation, from which he 
 thought at first he could free himself ; but, as 
 the years went by, he found the habit had be- 
 come so strong that he couldn't control it, for it 
 controlled him. He had stood at the mouth of 
 the cannon, in front of the fixed bayonet, with 
 the muzzle of a pistol right before him, and yet 
 never had felt there such heart-sinking as he ex- 
 perienced when he began to realize what a man 
 was, fettered by this vice. He came to this city 
 some little time ago, and spent most of his daj^s 
 and nights in drinking and in playing cards, 
 sometimes drinking thirty or forty drinks a day. 
 While in this condition one night he came to the 
 Tabernacle out of curiosity, to hear what was 
 being said, and to see what was being done. He 
 sat in the gallery, and was shielded by one of the 
 long wooden pillars that upheld the roof. He 
 saw the crowds enter with happy faces, and ap- 
 parently light hearts, and nice clothes, and it 
 hardened his heart, for he felt that he could 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 39 
 
 never be like them. Then he heard Mr. Sankey 
 sing the hymn " What Shall the Harvest Be ? " 
 It struck him when he heard the first verse : 
 
 " Sowing the seed by the daylight fair, 
 Sowing the seed by the noonday glare, 
 Sowing the seed by the fading light, 
 Sowing the seed in the solemn night. 
 
 Oh, what shall the harvest be ? 
 
 Oh, what shall the harvest be ? " 
 
 And then, said he, Mr. Sankey sang the third 
 verse, a verse that entered my heart. It roused 
 me from my stupor. It brought me to feel what 
 my own condition was, and these words entered 
 my soul : 
 
 " Sowing the seed of a lingering pain, 
 Sowing the seed of a maddened brain, 
 Sowing the seed of a tarnished name, 
 Sowing the seed of eternal shame. 
 
 Oh, what shall the harvest be f 
 
 Oh, what shall my harvest be ? " 
 
 During the recital of these lines, the speaker's 
 voice trembled, his whole frame was agitated, 
 his words and manner were impressed on his au- 
 ditors, many of whom were moved to tears, and 
 sobbing was audible in many parts of the great 
 hall. He then went on to say that that night he 
 
40 TROPHIES OF S(WG. 
 
 had listened to this hymn, describing his own 
 experience, he found no rest ; the words seemed 
 to meet him wherever he went, — 
 
 " "What shall the harvest be ? " 
 
 They were written on the walls of the room in 
 the hotel where he boarded. They haunted him 
 wherever he went. He tried to drown the voice 
 by drinking heavier, but he couldn't remove 
 them. There they were wherever he turned, — 
 
 "What shall the harvest be ? " 
 
 He left the Tabernacle saying to himself he 
 would never return ; but finally, such was his 
 unrest, he went into the inquiry-room, and 
 talked with Mr. Farwell and Mr. Brewster, and 
 after a great struggle he gave himself to Christ. 
 He trusted in the salvation wrought out for him, 
 and, though he had lost position, home, family 
 by the accursed cup, he rejoiced that God had 
 looked down on him and saved him. 
 
 "what means this eager, anxious throng?" 
 — Rev. U. P. Hammond. 
 Pekhaps no hymn has been oftener sung dur- 
 ing the last ten years in evangelistic meetings 
 
TEOPHIES OF SONG. 41 
 
 than the one with the above heading. It will 
 be interesting to many to learn the circumstan- 
 ces which suggested it. It was originally writ- 
 ten as a description of the powerful revival of 
 religion in Newark, N. J., in 1864, when hun- 
 dreds were led by the Holy Spirit to find peace 
 and joy in believing in Jesus. 
 
 It was on a Saturday afternoon, when one of 
 the largest churches was crowded with children 
 and adults, that R. G. Pardee, that dear man 
 who has done so much for Sunday-schools in 
 America, made some very impressive remarks on 
 the answer given to blind Bartimeus in Luke 
 xviii. 37 : " They told him that Jesus of Naza- 
 reth passeth by." 
 
 Miss Campbell was present, and shortly after 
 wrote those words which have been sung by 
 thousands and tens of thousands the world over. 
 It struck me that they might be set to music, 
 and I found they went very well to the tune, 
 " Sweet Hour of Prayer." There were origi- 
 nally nine verses, if I remember rightly, but I 
 only printed seven in the New Praises of Jesus. 
 It has always been popular in evangelistic meet- 
 ings, and multitudes by it have been awakened, 
 
42 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 and led to cry out, as did the blind man, " Jesus, 
 thou son of David, have mercy on me." 
 
 I remember that a gambler came into a morn- 
 ing meeting, which crowded a Congregational 
 church in Lockport, N. Y., while we were sing- 
 ing that hymn, and at the close of it, though it 
 was the first meeting he had attended, he arose, 
 and with tears streaming down his cheeks, 
 begged the Christians to pray for him. Earnest 
 prayer at once ascended in his behalf, and it was 
 answered. A few nights after, in relating his 
 experience before a great audience in Dr. Wis- 
 ner's church, he referred to this hymn as having 
 been the means of awakening him, and added: 
 
 " As I went out of the church that day, and 
 over the canal, I threw the ' Devil's Testament,' 
 with its fifty-two leaves into it." 
 
 I am sure he never played a card afterwards 
 He lived a consistent Christian life, and has since 
 died a happy death. I might fill pages relating 
 similar instances to illustrate the good this hymn 
 has accomplished. Night after night during the 
 past winter, not only in Great Britain, under the 
 leadership of Brother Sankey, but also in Cali- 
 fornia and Oregon, it has been sung by thou- 
 
 
TROPHIES OF SO^G. 43 
 
 sands who will remember it to all eternity. The 
 verses together are a sermon in themselves. 
 
 Prof. Theo. E. Perkins has written some very 
 appropriate music for this hymn, which is a fa- 
 vorite with Mr. Sankey, and is often heard at 
 Brother Moody's revival meetings. 
 
 It is my earnest prayer that multitudes more 
 may be led by this hymn so earnestly to call 
 upon the Saviour, that they, too, may receive 
 their sight, and hear Him saying : " Thy faith 
 hath saved thee." 
 
 " I HEAR THE SAVIOUR SAY," AND " THERE IS A 
 GATE THAT STANDS AJAR." 
 
 Maggie Lindsay, a girl of seventeen, who 
 had been for some time a pupil-teacher in the 
 Free Church Normal Seminary, Edinburgh, 
 found the Saviour in the Free Assembly Hall, on 
 the last night of 1873. On the 27th of January 
 following she was journeying by train to Aber- 
 deen, when a terrible accident took place at 
 Manuel, near Linlithgow. She was amongst 
 those who were most seriously injured, both legs 
 being broken, and a rib, with other wounds of a 
 
44 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 painful character. Her sufferings were acute, 
 but she bore up under them with " gentle Chris- 
 tian heroism," as an eye-witness testifies ; such 
 as drew forth the admiration of all around. 
 When the terrible crash on the railroad hap- 
 pened, she had been reading Mr. Sankey's hymn- 
 book, and there was the mark of a turned-down 
 leaf at her favorite hymn, " The Gates Ajar," 
 with its touching refrain, — 
 
 " Oh, depths of mercy ! can it be 
 That gate was left ajar for me ? " 
 
 During her last hours it was affecting to hear 
 her, amidst so great suffering, sing softly to her- 
 self, — 
 
 "Forme, forme?" 
 
 Another hymn-book, "Phillips' Hallowed Songs," 
 was recovered from the debris, " its pages stained 
 with her own blood." " At one time," writes 
 the minister who attended her during the last 
 moments of life, " when we thought she had 
 fallen into a sleep, eagerly wished and prayed 
 for by us, we moved away out of sight. But in 
 a few minutes we heard her, in low, gentle 
 tones, singing to herself the words, — 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 45 
 
 'Nothing, either great or small, 
 
 Remains for me to do; 
 Jesus died, and paid it all, 
 
 All the debt I owe.' 
 
 Shortly afterwards she fell asleep in Jesus. 
 4 Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.' " 
 
 "yet there is room! the lamb's bright hall 
 
 OF SONG." 
 
 A GAY, thoughtless young woman, in Scotland, 
 was one day invited by an acquaintance to accom- 
 pany her to a Moody and Sankey meeting. She 
 declined to go, saying she did not care to hear 
 Moody and Sankey. On being further pressed, 
 she consented and went. She was not impressed 
 by anything she heard in the course of the meet- 
 ing. Indeed, she thought there was " nothing 
 in it," and wondered why people should make 
 so much ado about what seemed so common- 
 place. The last hymn, " Yet there is Room " 
 was being sung by Mr. Sankey alone. He had 
 reached the last stanza — 
 
 " Ere night that gate may close, and seal thy doom, 
 Then the last, low, long cry, ' No room, no room ! ' 
 No room, no room; oh, woful cry, 'No room ! ' " 
 
46 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 These last words of Dr. Bonar's hymn fell upon 
 the ear of the young woman like a sudden thun- 
 der-clap. She left the meeting, but the words 
 went with her. " No room, no room ! " still 
 rang in her ears. Conscience awoke at the 
 sound of this warning bell. Nor could she rest, 
 until, as she trusts, she found rest in the great 
 Redeemer. 
 
 " COME HOME ! COME HOME ! " 
 
 In Victoria Hall, Sunderland, England, Mr. 
 Moody one evening closed his sermon with the 
 story of a prodigal son, who was reconciled to 
 his father — as he stood by the bed of his dying 
 mother. Then Mr. Sankey sang, — 
 
 " Oh, prodigal child, come home." 
 
 When the audience had been dismissed, there 
 came into the enquiry meeting a young man 
 who had long played the part of the prodigal 
 son, to the great grief of his godly parents. 
 With a face marked with deepest penitence he 
 came up to his father and mother, and throwing 
 his arms about them, with many tears asked 
 their forgiveness and also the pardon of God for 
 
TEOPHIES OF SONG. 47 
 
 his sins. The prodigal child had a double wel- 
 come from God and man. 
 
 " Come home ! come home ! 
 You are weary at heart, 
 For the way has been dark, 
 And so lonely and wild, 
 
 O prodigal child ! 
 Come home, oh come home ! 
 
 "hold the fort." 
 
 When General Sherman was marching " from 
 Atlanta to the Sea," he left a detachment of 
 troops at a certain fort in his rear. By some 
 means the enemy got behind him, attacked the 
 fort and drove its defenders from the outer to 
 the inner intrenchments. The commanding 
 officer was about to run up the white flag, when 
 he saw on a distant hill the signal, "Hold the 
 fort: I am coming. Sherman" This incident 
 gave to Mr. Bliss the idea of his well known 
 hymn, " Hold the fort." 
 
 While Mr. Moody was in Dublin, the Royal 
 Circus was much less attended than usual, and 
 
48 TKOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 so, a month or two afterward, the clowns made 
 a plan to ridicule the evangelists. At one of 
 their entertainments, in the presence of a large 
 concourse, one clown said to the other, " I'm 
 rather Moody to-night ; how do you feel ? " 
 The other replied, " I feel rather Sankey-monius, 
 myself." The fun did not work, at least, not 
 as the clowns expected. The audience hissed 
 them out of the ring and struck up, — 
 
 " Hold the fort, for I am coming/ ' 
 
 in which all the people joined, and thus ended 
 the effort to make sport of the evangelists. 
 
 "Ho ! my comrades, see the signal 
 
 Waving in the sky ! 
 Keinforcements now appearing, 
 
 Victory is nigh ! " 
 
 Chorus, 
 " * Hold the fort, for I am coming," 
 
 Jesus signals still, 
 "Wave the answer back to Heaven, 
 
 * By thy grace we will.' " 
 
 "brightly beams our father's mercy." 
 
 On a dark stormy night, when the waves 
 rolled like mountains, and not a star was to be 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 49 
 
 seen, a boat, rocking and plunging, neared the 
 Cleveland harbor. 
 
 " Are you sure this is Cleveland? " asked the 
 Captain, seeing only one light from the light- 
 house. 
 
 " Quite sure, sir," replied the pilot. 
 
 " Where are the lower lights ? " 
 
 " Gone out, sir." 
 
 " Can you make the harbor ? " 
 
 " We must, or perish, sir I " 
 
 And with a strong hand and a brave heart the 
 old pilot turned the wheel. But, alas, in the 
 darkness he missed the channel, and with a 
 crash upon the rocks the boat was shivered, 
 and many a life lost in a watery grave. Breth- 
 ren, the Master will take care of the great 
 light-house; let us keep the lower lights burn- 
 ing ! 
 
 " Mr. Bliss, hearing this story from Mr. 
 Moody wrought out its moral in his well-known 
 song,— 
 
 " Let the lower lights be burning ! 
 
 Send a gleam across the wave ! 
 Some poor f anting, struggling seaman, 
 
 You may rescue, you may save." 
 
50 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 "LIGHT in the darkness, sailor" 
 
 This song is founded on the following inci- 
 dent : 
 
 " We watched the wreck with great anxiety. 
 The life-boat had been out some hours, but could 
 not reach the vessel through the great breakers 
 that raged and foamed on the sand-bank. The 
 boat appeared to be leaving the crew to perish. 
 But in a few minutes the captain and sixteen 
 sailors were taken off, and the vessel went 
 down. 
 
 " When the life-boat came to you, did you 
 expect it had brought some tools to repair your 
 old ship?' I said. 
 
 " 4 Oh, no ; she was a total wreck. Two of 
 her masts were gone, and if we had staj^ed 
 mending her only a few minutes, we must have 
 gone down, sir.' 
 
 " ' When once off the old wreck and safe in 
 the life-boat what remained for you to do ? ' 
 
 "'Nothing, sir, but just to pull for the shore.' " 
 
 " Light in the darkness, sailor, day is at hand ! 
 See o'er the foaming billows fair Haven's land, 
 Drear was the voyage, sailor, now almost o'er, 
 Safe within the life-boat, sailor, pull for the shore." 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 51 
 
 "ONLY AN ARMOR-BEARER." 
 
 This song was suggested by the familiar inci- 
 dent of Jonathan and his armor-bearer: 
 
 " Now it came to pass upon a day, that Jona- 
 than, the son of Saul, said unto the young man 
 that bare his armor, Come and let us go over to 
 the Philistines' garrison, that is on the other 
 side : it may be that the Lord will work for us : 
 for there is no restraint to the Lord to save by 
 many or by few. And his armor-bearer said unto 
 him, " Do all that is in thine heart ; turn thee : 
 behold I am with thee according to thy heart. 
 And Jonathan climbed up upon his hands and 
 upon his feet, and his armor-bearer after him : 
 and they fell before Jonathan ; and his armor- 
 bearer slew after him. 
 
 " So the Lord saved Israel that day : and the 
 battle passed over to Beth-aven." 
 
 " Only an armor-bearer, proudly I stand, 
 "Waiting to follow at the King's command ; 
 Marching if * onward " shall the order be, 
 Standing by my Captain, serving faithfully." 
 
 "I AM COMING TO THE CROSS." 
 
 At Glasgow, one evening at eight o'clock, 
 there was a vast assembly, of men only, in the 
 
52 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 City Hall. They were packed into every cor- 
 ner ; and outside were nearly as many in vain 
 seeking entrance. It was a memorable time. 
 Mr. Moody's subject was, " Whosoever," — sal- 
 vation absolutely free, all gift ; nothing between 
 a sinner and eternal life but an unbroken will. 
 The mass of men listened with intense interest ; 
 now and then you could see a tear, or the head 
 bent in deep emotion. When Mr. Sankey sang 
 the hymn, " I am Coming to the Cross," nothing 
 could exceed the rapt, silent attention. When 
 he came to the verse, — 
 
 " In the promises I trust, 
 
 Now I feel the blood applied : 
 I am prostrate in the dust, 
 
 I with Christ am crucified," 
 
 not a head in the vast multitude moved, every 
 face expressed deep feeling. This verse was re- 
 peated amid still deeper silence and emotion. At 
 the close, when an invitation was given to those 
 who minded to remain for twenty minutes sim- 
 ply for prayer, above a thousand remained, and 
 thereafter a large number waited for conversa- 
 tion, although the hour was late. 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 53 
 
 An English writer gives a touching incident 
 connected with this hymn from the dying hours 
 of a Christian child of ten years. 
 
 She much delighted in Mr. Sankey's hymns. 
 " Oh, how I love those dear hymns ! " — men- 
 tioning, " Safe in the arms of Jesus," and others. 
 
 " When I am gone, mother, will you ask the 
 girls of the school to sing that hymn ? — 
 
 " c Ring the bells of Heaven! there is joy to-day 
 
 For a soul returning from the wild ! 
 See! the Father meets him out upon the way, 
 
 "Welcoming his weary, wandering child! 
 
 Chorus. 
 " * Glory! glory! how the angels sing! 
 Glory! glory! how the loud harps ring! ■ 
 'Tis the ransomed army, like a mighty sea, 
 Pealing forth the anthem of the free. 
 
 " Ring the bells of heaven! spread the feast to-day, 
 Angels, swell the glad triumphant strain! 
 
 Tell the joyful tidings, bear it far away! 
 For a precious soul is born again." 
 
 The night before her death she said, — 
 " Dear father and mother, I hope I shall meet 
 you in Heaven. I am so happy, mother ! You 
 cannot think how light and happy I feel!" 
 
54 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 Again : " Perhaps Jesus may send me to fetch 
 some of my brothers and sisters ; I hope He will 
 send me to fetch you, mother." 
 
 Half an hour before her departure she ex- 
 claimed, " Oh, mother, hark at the bells of heaven ! 
 they are ringing so beautifully ! " 
 
 Then, closing her eyes awhile, presently she 
 cried again, " Hearken to the harps ! they are 
 most splendid ! Oh, I wish you could hear 
 them ! " 
 
 Then, shortly after, she spoke again : 
 
 " Oh, mother, I see the Lord Jesus, and the 
 angels ! Oh, if you could see them too ! He is 
 sending one to fetch me ! " 
 
 She had been counting the hours and minutes 
 since she heard the mill-bell at 1.30 p.m., long- 
 ing so earnestly to depart ; yet expressed a hope 
 she might see her dear father (then absent at 
 work) before she went. 
 
 At last, just five minutes or so before her ex- 
 piring breath, she said, — 
 
 " Oh, mother, lift me up from the pillow — 
 high, high up ! Oh, I wish you could lift me 
 right up into heaven ! " Then, almost immedi- 
 ately after — as, doubtless, conscious that the 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 55 
 
 parting moment was at hand, — " Put me down 
 again — down, quick ! " 
 
 And then, calmly, brightly, joyously gazing 
 upward, as at some vision of surprising beauty, 
 she peacefully, sweetly, triumphantly breathed 
 forth her precious spirit into the arms of the 
 ministering angel whom her Jesus had sent to 
 fetch her, and so was forever with the Lord she 
 loved. 
 
 "est the christian's home est glory." 
 
 In one of Mr. Moody's meetings, in England, 
 a speaker rose and said that he had been an actor 
 on the English stage for some years and had 
 written plays. He was one night entertaining a 
 London theatre audience, when suddenly a hymn 
 he had learned in childhood came to his mind, 
 beginning, — 
 
 " In the Christian's home in glory, 
 There remains a land of rest," 
 
 which so unmanned him that he was compelled 
 to go to the manager and tell him that he could 
 not go on. He stifled conviction however, by 
 drinking heavily at the bar of the theatre. The 
 
56 TKOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 religious impression then overcome he said had 
 been renewed by the words of Mr. Moody and 
 Mr. Sankey and he had now given himself to 
 Christ. 
 
 A Christian boy of Rev. Dr. Talmage's Sun- 
 day-school, when about to die, said to his mother, 
 " Don't cry, but sing ; sing, — 
 
 * There is rest for the weary;' " 
 
 and when they had sung a verse, he put his 
 wasted hand over his heart, and said, just before 
 it ceased its beating, — 
 
 " There is rest for me." 
 
 THE CHRISTIANS HOME. 
 
 In the Christian's home in glory- 
 There remains a land of rest ; 
 
 There my Saviour's gone before me, 
 To fulfil my soul's request. 
 
 Chorus, 
 
 There is rest for the weary, 
 There is rest for the weary, 
 
 There is rest for you ; 
 On the other side of Jordan, 
 In the sweet fields of Eden, 
 
TROPHIES OF SOKG. 57 
 
 Where the tree of lif e is blooming, 
 There is rest for you. 
 
 He is fitting up a mansion, 
 
 Which eternally shall stand; 
 For my stay shall not be transient 
 
 In that holy, happy land. 
 
 Sing, O sing, ye heirs of glory! 
 
 Shout your triumphs as you go; 
 Zion's gates will open for you, 
 
 You shall find an entrance through. 
 
 "LORD, I HEAR OF SHOWERS OF BLESSING." 
 
 The singing leader in an inland Sunday-school 
 was a man of skeptical tendencies, — moral and 
 upright, though far from being a Christian. One 
 Sunday this hymn was commenced as usual, but 
 when the leader came to the passage, — 
 
 " Pass me not, O tender Saviour, 
 
 Let me love and cling to Thee; 
 I am longing for Thy favor; 
 
 Whilst Thou'rt calling, oh, call me." 
 
 his voice quivered, his frame shook, and in 
 anguish he cried out, " Pray for me." It was 
 a scene of thrilling interest, and earnest pray- 
 ers then went up from teachers and scholars 
 that he who had so long sung the sweet 
 
58 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 songs of Zion without feeling their power, 
 might now sing with the spirit and the un- 
 derstanding. He was happily converted, and 
 is now a faithful Christian. 
 
 "safe in the arms of jesus." 
 
 — Fannie J. Crosby. 
 
 Not long ago we visited from time to time, 
 till the end came, a bright young life that had 
 been laid hold of by our great British disease, 
 consumption. Insidious, but terribly sure, were 
 the advances made by this fell waster; and 
 the watching was all the more solemn because 
 the indications of spiritual life were but 
 faint and dubious. Not many weeks before the 
 close, a young lady, one of the recent converts, 
 found her way to this stricken one, and began 
 a series of visits which were most welcome. In 
 the visitor the dying young woman found 
 one younger than herself, who could sing 
 from experience, "Safe in the arms of Jesus;" 
 one to whose sweet voice she listened with 
 pleasure, so far as the disease permitted ; one 
 whom she soon loved. It is not permitted us 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 59 
 
 to see into the hearts of others ; but this seemed 
 evident in the case of the poor sufferer now- 
 alluded to, that more than any other influence 
 brought to bear upon her, the hymns, words, and 
 visits of the young lady created a longing to 
 know Jesus as her own Saviour. 
 
 During the revival meetings in Edinburgh, a 
 young man, who was an avowed skeptic, came 
 into one of the meetings to scoff at all he might 
 hear. He said afterwards, — 
 
 " I believed only in God and the devil ; the 
 latter I served well and sat laughing at the 
 Christians about me whom I thought nothing 
 better than fools." 
 
 At length that beautiful hymn, — 
 
 " Safe in the arms of Jesus/' 
 
 was sung. A sudden thrill passed through his 
 whole frame and then, like a dart went to his 
 his very soul. His feelings were awful, but he 
 listened to the next verse and he felt, " There is 
 a Saviour. Who is He ? Where is He ? " He 
 quickly realized the truth that Jesus was his Sa- 
 viour and he threw himself into His arms, and 
 
60 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 left the place, saying in bis new joy and zeal, " I 
 will now live and work for Jesus." 
 
 "to-day the saviour calls. 
 
 On the night when the great Chicago fire 
 broke out Mr. Moody spoke to an audience of 
 three thousand people, urging, as usual, immedi- 
 ate decision for Christ. 
 
 The song was then sung, — 
 
 " To-day the Saviour calls: 
 Ye wand'rers come." 
 
 Ten persons stayed to give themselves to 
 Christ, in response to this hymn. At the close 
 of the enquiry meeting as they went out into the 
 street they saw the whole sky lighten up with 
 the blaze of burning buildings. Three, at least, 
 of those ten persons perished in the fire. One 
 more refusal to accept Christ and it would have 
 been too late. 
 
 The beautiful song of which this is the first 
 line, was suggested by the motto, " This I did 
 for thee," which a German clergyman placed un- 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 61 
 
 der a print of "Christ on the Cross," that hung 
 in his study. It is said that Count Zinzendorf, 
 of precious memory, was first taught to love the 
 Saviour by reading this motto. 
 
 During a Western Sunday-school Conven- 
 tion, there arose a cry of dissatisfaction, "A 
 ring ! " " A ring ! " The strange and false charge 
 was made that the managers were conducting 
 the convention according to some recent scheme. 
 Quite a discordant excitement ensued, during 
 which a distinguished singer who was present, 
 was called on to sing. He sang,- — 
 
 "All this I did for thee, 
 My precious blood I shed 
 That thou might' st ransomed be, 
 And rescued from the dead; 
 All this I did for thee — 
 What hast thou done for me?" 
 
 Through the song Christ seemed to whisper 
 to the discordant convention, " Peace, be still," 
 and when the song had ceased, a calm, Christ- 
 like spirit had filled the convention and contin- 
 ued with it to the end. 
 
62 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 tt JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOTJL." 
 
 — Charles Wesley. 
 
 About the time that Isaac Watts was writ- 
 ing his earliest hymns at Southampton, in 
 Southern England, two brothers were born in 
 the little town of Epworth, who were destined 
 to be better known over the world than any 
 other two men whom Britain produced in 
 that half century. While their godly mother 
 (Susannah) was dying, she said to her weep 
 ing household, " My children, as soon as my 
 spirit is released, sing a song of praise to God." 
 Among the group who joined in this song of 
 triumph with faltering voices, were John, the 
 founder of Methodism, and Charles, its sweet 
 singer. John was system; Charles was song. 
 John was the Bezaleel who laid the founda- 
 tions, and hewed out the pillars of the new 
 tabernacle; but Charles was the Asaph who 
 filled it with melody. 
 
 Methodism was builded rapidly ; but the walls 
 never would have gone up so fast had they 
 not been built to music. Charles Wesley was 
 
TROPHIES OF SOKG. 63 
 
 a born poet. Like Toplady, he was all nerve 
 and fire and enthusiasm. God gave him a 
 musical ear, intense emotions, ardent affec- 
 tions, and a glowing piety that never grew 
 cold. He ate, drank, slept and dreamed noth- 
 ing but hymns! 
 
 He must have been the ready writer of at 
 least four thousand hymns. One day, while 
 on his itineracy, his pony stumbled, and threw 
 him off. The only record he makes of the 
 accident in his diary is this: "My compan- 
 ions thought I had broken my neck; but my 
 leg only was bruised, my hand sprained, and 
 my head stunned, which spoiled my making 
 hymns until — next day!" Truly a man must 
 have been possessed with a master passion, 
 who could have written a sentence like that. 
 
 Wesley found his inspirations "on every 
 hedge." 
 
 He threw off hymns as Spurgeon throws off 
 sermons. For example, when he was preach- 
 ing to a crowd of rude stonecutters and quarry- 
 men at Portland, he turned his appeal into 
 metre, and improvised a hymn, in which occur 
 the vigorous lines: — 
 
64 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 "Come, O thou all- victorious Lord, 
 
 Thy power to us make known; 
 Strike with the hammer of thy word, 
 
 And break these hearts of stone." 
 
 Standing once on the dizzy promontory of 
 Land's End, and looking down into the boiling 
 waves on each side of the cliff, he broke out into 
 these solemn and thrilling words : — 
 
 " Lo ! on a narrow neck of land, 
 'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand, 
 Yet how insensible." 
 
 For every scene and circumstance of life, for 
 prayer-meetings, for watch nights, for love 
 feasts, and for dying hours and funerals, he had 
 a holy impassioned lay. But, like Watts, Cow- 
 per and Toplady, he had his master-piece. 
 The Lord of glory bestowed on Charles Wesley 
 the high honor of composing the finest heart- 
 hymn in the English tongue. If the greatest 
 hymn of the cross is " Eock of Ages," and the 
 greatest hymn of providence is Cowper's " God 
 moves in a mj^sterious way," and the grandest 
 battle-hymn is Martin Luther's " God is our 
 refuge," then it may be said, also, that the queen 
 of all the lays of holy love is that immortal 
 song : — 
 
TBOPHEES OF SONG. 65 
 
 " Jesus, lover of my soul ! 
 Let me to Thy bosom fly. 
 While the billows near me roll, 
 "While the tempest still is high ! " 
 
 Whatever may be said of Wesley's doctrine 
 of perfect holiness, there is not much doubt 
 that he attained "unto perfection" when he 
 wrote this hymn. It is happily married, also, 
 to two exquisite tunes, " Refuge and Martyn," 
 both of which are worthy of the alliance. 
 The first of these tunes is a gem. The one 
 central, all pervading idea of this matchless 
 hymn is the soul's yearning for its Saviour. 
 
 The figures of speech vary, but not the 
 thought. In one line we see a storm-tossed 
 voyager crying out for shelter, until the 
 tempest is over. In another line we see a 
 timid, tearful child, nestling in its mother's 
 arms, with the words faltering on its tongue, — 
 
 " Let me to Thy bosom fly ! 
 Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ! " 
 
 Two lines of the hymn have been breathed 
 fervently and often out of bleeding hearts. 
 When we were once in the valley of the death- 
 shade, with one beautiful child in its new-made 
 
66 TBOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 grave, and the other threatened with fatal 
 disease, there was no prayer which we uttered 
 oftener than this, — 
 
 " Leave, ah ! leave me not alone ; 
 Still support and comfort me." 
 
 We do not doubt that tens of thousands of other 
 bereaved and wounded hearts have cried this 
 piercing cry, out of the depths, — 
 
 " Still support and comfort me." 
 
 The whole hymn is at once a confession 
 and a prayer. It is a prayer in metre. And no 
 man is prepared to sing these words aright 
 unless his soul is filled with deepest and most 
 earnest longing after the Lord Jesus. What an 
 awful blasphemy it is for unsanctified singers in 
 a choir to perform this holy prayer merely as a 
 feat of musical skill. 
 
 What college boy would dare to commit to 
 memory the Lord's prayer, and speak it as a 
 mere piece of declamation on the stage? Yet 
 we do not see any difference between 
 declaiming a prayer, and the heartless mockery 
 of performing, for musical effect, such words, — 
 
 "Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 
 Till the storm of life is past l M 
 
 9 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 67 
 
 Or that self-surrender for the dying hour, — 
 
 " Oh, receive my soul at last ! " 
 
 Words like these are too infinitely solemn for 
 frivolous lips in the concert-room or the organ- 
 loft. When a congregation sings such a 
 hymn as " Jesus, lover of my soul," each person 
 should feel as if he were uttering a. fervent per- 
 sonal prayer to the Son of God. 
 
 The history of Charles Wesley's incompara- 
 ble hymn would fill a volume. Millions have 
 sung it, and will be singing it when the mil- 
 lennial morn breaks. 
 
 A coasting vessel once went on the rocks in a 
 gale, in the British Channel. The captain 
 and crew took to the boats and were lost. 
 They might have been saved had they remained 
 on board ; for a huge wave carried the vessel up 
 among the rocks, where the ebbing tide left her 
 high and dry. In the captain's cabin a hymn- 
 book was found lying on his table. It was 
 opened to a particular page, and the pencil 
 still lay in it which had marked the favorite 
 lines of the stout sailor, who was just about 
 going into the jaws of death. While the hurri- 
 
68 TROPHIES OF SONG, 
 
 cane was howling outside, the captain had 
 drawn his pencil beside these glorious words 
 of cheer, — 
 
 " Jesus, 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 Saviour hide, 
 
 Till the storm of life is past ; 
 Safe into the haven guide, 
 
 Oh, receive my soul at last ! " 
 
 Blessed death song! Thousands of God's 
 redeemed ones have shouted it forth as the 
 " haven" of rest opened its celestial glories 
 to their view. If we could choose the man- 
 ner of our departure, we would wish to die 
 singing,— 
 
 " 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." 
 — Mev. T. L. Cuyler, D. D., in "Heart Life." 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 69 
 
 Mr. Long of Philadelphia in his work on 
 hymnology gives the following incident as the 
 occasion of the hymn : 
 
 The brothers John and Charles Wesley, with 
 Richard Pilmore, were one evening holding a 
 twilight meeting on the common, when they 
 were attacked by a mob and fled from its f ury 
 for their lives. The first place of refuge that 
 they found, after having been for some time 
 separated, was a hedge-row near at hand, behind 
 which they hid a few minutes, protecting them- 
 selves from serious injury by the missiles that 
 fell like hail about them, by clasping their hands 
 above their heads as they lay with their faces in 
 the dust. As night drew on, the darkness en- 
 abled them to leave their temporary retreat for 
 a safer one at some distance. They found their 
 way at last to a spring-house, where, in compar- 
 ative security, they waited for their pursuers to 
 weary of seeking them. " Here they struck a 
 light with a flint-stone," dusted their soiled and 
 tattered garments, and, after quenching their 
 thirst, bathed their hands and faces in the water 
 that bubbled from the spring and flowed away 
 in a sparkling streamlet. Then it was that 
 
70 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 Charles Wesley was inspired to white, " Jesus, 
 lover of my soul," with a bit of lead he had 
 hammered into a pencil. 
 
 These circumstances beautifully illustrate the 
 hymn, giving to almost every line a reality that 
 makes it peculiarly significant to every loving 
 Christian heart. They had fled before their en- 
 emies, and found shelter from danger : he sang : 
 
 " Jesus, lover of my soul, 
 Let me to thy bosom fly." 
 
 No figure is so commonly used with reference 
 to the assaults of the wicked as that of the line : 
 
 " While the nearer waters roll," 
 
 which is a favorite with the psalmist. The next 
 line 
 
 " While the tempest still is high; " 
 
 also reminds one of the sweet songs of Israel, 
 but seems above the former appropriate, recall- 
 ing, as it does, the storm of missiles that broke 
 upon the hedge when they were concealed be- 
 hind it. The same figure, carried still further 
 finds expression in the rest of the first stanza : 
 
 " Hide me, O my Saviour hide, 
 Till the storm of life is past ! 
 
TEOPHIES OF SONG. 71 
 
 Safe into the haven guide, 
 O receive my soul at last! " 
 
 There can be no doubt but that the little 
 spring-house suggested " the haven of eternal 
 rest " for which the soul of the persecuted evan- 
 gelist longed with unutterable desire. They 
 had barely escaped death by flying to the only 
 place of safety within their reach ; what won- 
 der then that the poet should exclaim, — 
 
 * ' Other refuge have I none, 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee: " 
 
 as he thought, with a shudder, of the loneliness 
 of the first of their flight, which is touchingly 
 indicated in the lines, — 
 
 ' ' Leave, oh, leave me not alone, 
 Still support and comfort me! " 
 
 The thought of the first two lines of this 
 second stanza is repeated in the fifth and sixth, 
 and followed by yet another reference to the 
 period of their greatest peril. Christ, the only 
 hope of a sinner, is addressed in the words, — 
 
 " All my trust in thee is stayed, 
 All my help from thee I bring! " 
 
 and entreated to save his soul when imperilled, 
 as their bodies had been. He prays, — 
 
72 TKOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 " Cover my defenceless head, 
 With the shadow of thy wing! " 
 
 The third verse which is usually omitted, is a 
 passionate appeal for aid in weakness and ex- 
 haustion : 
 
 " Wilt thou not regard my call? 
 
 Wilt thou not accept my prayer? 
 Lo! I sink, I faint , I fall! 
 
 Lo! on thee I cast my care! " 
 
 together, perhaps, with a reminiscence of the aid 
 which they were doubtless able to render one 
 another : 
 
 " Beach me out thy gracious hand! 
 
 While I of thy strength receive, 
 Hoping against hope I stand. 
 
 Dying, and behold I live? " 
 
 The sufficiency of the Saviour in implied com- 
 parison with any human helper, is finely brought 
 out by the poet who, like Paul, evidently glo- 
 ries in his own weakness : 
 
 " Thou, O Christ, art all I want ; 
 
 More than all in thee I rind; 
 Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, 
 
 Heal the sick and lead the blind; 
 Just and holy is thy name; 
 
 I am all unrighteousness; 
 
TROPHIES OF SOI^G. 73 
 
 False and full of sin I am, 
 Thou art full of truth and grace! " 
 
 The weakness of their condition recalls its 
 cause, the " wounds and bruises " that have ever 
 been symbolical of sin. These had been laved 
 in the limpid water flowing at their feet, hence 
 the strain, — 
 
 " Plenteous grace in thee is found, 
 
 Grace to cover all my sin; 
 Let the healing stream abound, 
 
 Make and keep me pure within! " 
 
 They had drank, too, of the water, and as it 
 had refreshed their fainting bodies, would the 
 Christian take refreshment from the water of 
 life. This thought furnished the climax of the 
 hymn, than which a move inspiring could hardly 
 be framed in words. It is the language of per- 
 fect confidence in the Redeemer as the source of 
 eternal life. He sings, O how sublimely ! 
 
 " Thou of life the fountain art; 
 
 Freely let me take of thee; 
 Spring thou up within my heart, 
 
 Rise to all eternity! " 
 
 A very touching incident in the last days of 
 
74 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 the life of the late President Finney has just ap- 
 peared. It was the Sabbath. After tea, accord- 
 ing to his custom, he was walking about his 
 grounds with his wife enjoying a glowing sky 
 and a cool refreshing breeze. Evening worship 
 in the church near at hand, which he himself 
 had planned and in which he had preached 
 nearly forty years, had just begun. Presently 
 there came floating out of the old sanctuary the 
 familiar strains of the dear old hymn, — 
 
 " Jesus, lover of my soul, 
 
 Let me to thy bosom fly, 
 Where the nearer waters roll, 
 
 While the tempest still is high: 
 Hide me, O my Saviour 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, oh, leave me not alone, 
 
 Still support and comfort me. 
 All my trust od thee is stayed 
 
 All my help from thee I bring; 
 Cover my defenceless head 
 
 With the shadow of thy wing." 
 
TKOPHIES OF SONG. 75 
 
 He quickly caught it, devoutly joined the in- 
 visible congregation and kept them company 
 to the end. Before the morning dawned the 
 prayer then breathed was answered, and he who 
 had so long trusted in Christ was " at last " re- 
 ceived into the bosom of his Saviour. 
 
 A fine, intelligent Virginian young man, 
 while residing in the West, became an infidel 
 and a blasphemer of the name of God. From 
 this state he was delivered by reading the work 
 of Soame Jenyns ; but, while he acquiesced in 
 the truth of revelation, he yet did not feel its 
 power. He was attacked by a lingering and 
 fatal disease, which led him to reflection and 
 prayer, but often made it difficult for him to con- 
 verse. Three Christian friends sometimes vis- 
 ited him, to beguile the tedious hours by sing- 
 ing. They one day entered his room, and, 
 almost without any previous remarks, began the 
 hymn,— 
 
 " There is a fountain filled with blood," 
 
 and then, — 
 
 " The voice of free grace cries, Escape to the mountain." 
 
76 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 He then said to them, "There is nothing I 
 so much delight to hear as the first hymn you 
 ever sung to me, — 
 
 1 Jesus, lover of my soul.' " 
 
 We began to sing it to the tune of Martyn, 
 and found the solemnity which had reigned 
 in the little circle while singing the two 
 former hymns began to be changed to weep- 
 ing. We struck the touching strains of the 
 second stanza, and the weeping became loud; 
 the heart of him who had reviled Christ 
 broke ; and we feared that to sing the re- 
 maining stanza would be more than he could 
 bear. When singing in his room a few days 
 after this, he said, "I don't think I shall ever 
 hear ' Jesus, lover of my soul' sung again: 
 it so excites me that my poor body cannot 
 bear it." 
 
 Several years ago, a ship was burned near 
 the English Channel. Among the passengers 
 were a father, mother, and their little child, 
 a daughter not many months old. When the 
 discovery was made that the ship was on fire, 
 
TE0PH1ES OF SONG. 77 
 
 and the alarm was given, there was great 
 confusion, and this family became separated. 
 The father was rescued, and taken to Liver- 
 pool; but the mother and infant were carried 
 overboard by the crowd, and, unnoticed by 
 those who were doing all in their power to 
 save the sufferers still on the ship, they 
 drifted out of the channel with the tide, the 
 mother clinging to a fragment of the wreck, 
 with her little one clasped to her breast. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of that day, a vessel 
 bound from Newport, Wales, to America, was 
 moving slowly along in her course. There 
 was only a slight breeze, and the captain was 
 impatiently walking the deck, when his at- 
 tention was called to an object some distance 
 off, which looked like a person in the water. 
 The officers and crew watched it for a time, 
 and as no vessel was near from which any one 
 could have fallen overboard, they thought it 
 impossible that this could be a human being. 
 But, as their vessel was scarcely moving, it 
 was thought best to get out a boat and row 
 to the object. The boat was accordingly low- 
 ered and manned. It was watched with con- 
 
78 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 siderable interest by those who remained on 
 board, and they noticed that, as it drew near 
 to the drifting speck, the rowers rested on 
 their oars two or three minutes, then moved 
 forward, took in the object or thing, they 
 knew not which, and returned to the ship. 
 When the boat's crew came on board, they 
 brought with them this mother and her child, 
 alive and well; and the sailors said that, 
 as they drew near, they heard a female voice 
 sweetly singing. As with a common impulse, 
 the men ceased rowing and listened, and then 
 the words of the beautiful hymn, sung by this 
 trusting Christian, all unconscious that deliver- 
 ance was so near, came over the waves to 
 their ears: — 
 
 " Jesus, lover of my soul, 
 
 Let me to Thy bosom fly, 
 "While the waters near me roll, 
 
 While the tempest still is high ! 
 Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 
 
 Till the storm of life is past ; 
 Safe into the haven guide, 
 
 Oh, receive my soul at last. 
 
 Other refuge have I none, 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee ! 
 Leave, ah, leave me not alone, 
 
T&OPHIES OF SONG. 79 
 
 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." 
 
 In due time the vessel arrived in America. 
 The mother wrote to her friends in England, 
 and thus the father learned of the safety of 
 his wife and child, and in about four months 
 from the time of their separation they were 
 happily reunited. 
 
 A poor woman, who had no hope in Christ, 
 was dying in the attic of one of the New 
 York tenement houses. A minister was sent 
 for, but his words and prayers failed to give 
 her hope. She said again and again, as he 
 talked to her, "It's no use; I'm too wicked, 
 and it's too late." At length he began to 
 sing, "Jesus, lover of my soul," and sang 
 two verses. Noticing her deep interest, he 
 turned to her and said, "Can't you trust him 
 now?" With a smile of joy she replied, 
 " Other refuge have I none." Her happy face 
 showed her acceptance of Jesus. 
 
80 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 We were a happy company of Sunday-school 
 scholars and friends on Lake Winnipeseogee. 
 The day had been spent most pleasantly. The 
 " Lady of the Lake " had come alongside the 
 wharf and with a clear, sharp note from her clar- 
 ion bell had invited us again on board. Friends 
 from shore and on the water waved their friendly 
 " good-by." Seated upon the upper deck, antic- 
 ipating a most charming ride upon the lake, the 
 fastenings were unloosed and we shot out upon 
 the clear ample waters, and were fairly on our 
 course, anticipating an hour's enjoyment only 
 afforded by such a company and such an occa- 
 sion. All at once we were confronted by one of 
 the most terrific storms of wind, rain, lightning 
 and thunder ever known by the captain of the 
 boat in an experience of twenty-five years. 
 
 Terror now took possession of nearly all, as 
 well it might. In a confusion amounting almost 
 to a panic, all rushed for the cabin's hold. Hap- 
 pening to be among the last to leave the deck, 
 and standing about midway on the stairs, we 
 witnessed a scene such as we had never be- 
 held before, and never wish to re-experience. 
 Women were crying and fainting, children were 
 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 81 
 
 frantic with fright, and strong, full-grown men 
 stood pale and trembling. We tried to inspire 
 calmness and composure, but to very little pur- 
 pose. We remembered being in the coliseum at 
 Boston on the 4th of July of last year, when a 
 terrible hurricane and storm burst upon us. 
 What seemed an inevitable and fearful panic, 
 was turned into huzzas when the English band 
 changed from a classic selection to our own pa- 
 triotic "Yankee Doodle." We did not strike 
 up any of the national airs, but just what was 
 in our heart at the time, — 
 
 "I am trusting, Lord, in thee, 
 Dear Lamb of Calvary.' ' 
 
 The sentiment found a response in other 
 hearts ; we did not sing alone. Others joined, 
 and our voices were above the tumult within 
 and the roar of the hurricane without, and there 
 was a calm. But without, the storm raged with 
 increased fury, and its roar was fearful. Then 
 we sang, — 
 
 " Jesus, lover of my soul, 
 Let me to try bosom fly." 
 
 The lightning's flash seemed almost to envelope 
 
82 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 us in a sheet of flame, and the thunders seemed 
 to shake the earth and sea. And then we 
 sang,— 
 
 " Other refuge have I none; 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee." 
 
 The gallant boat, in whose palpitating bosom 
 we had taken refuge, met the storm bravely, but 
 the gale was too mighty ; she was beaten back 
 by the buffeting winds and waves, and imperilled 
 by hidden rocks ; and then we sang, — 
 
 " Thou, O Christ, art all I want, 
 More than all in Thee I find." 
 
 But the heart of the hurricane began to be 
 touched and the winds to relent ; the lightning 
 had a softer glare, and the thunder fell more 
 tenderly in our ears ; so we sang, — 
 
 " Ere we reach the shining river, 
 
 Lay we every burden down, 
 Grace our spirits shall deliver, 
 
 And provide a robe and crown." 
 
 Now there is a calm. The hurricane has sped 
 on with its accompaniment of flood and terror, 
 
TEOPHIES OP SONG. 83 
 
 and has left us out in the full clear sunshine. 
 The shore and destination are in view towards 
 sunset ; and now we will sing, — 
 
 "Land ahead, its fruits are waving," 
 
 and we ring out the chorus, — 
 
 " Eocks and storms I'll fear no more, 
 "When on that eternal shore." 
 
 And now the "Lady of the Lake," in her 
 grandest majesty, sweeps in graceful curve 
 to make her landing, when again we all 
 sang,— 
 
 " Now we're safe from all temptation, 
 All the storms of life are past," 
 
 and the 
 
 " Eocks and storms we'll fear no more; 
 When on that eternal shore, 
 Drop the anchor, furl the sail; 
 I am safe within the veil." 
 
 The singing saved us from a panic ; and, saved 
 from that, we were saved from consequences we 
 dared not contemplate. The twilight found us 
 all safe at our homes. 
 
84 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 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. 
 
 A CHAPLAIN" in our army one morning found 
 Tom, the drummer-boy, a great favorite with 
 ail the men, and whom, because of his sobriety 
 and religious example, they called "the young 
 deacon," sitting alone under a tree. At first he 
 thought him asleep, but, as he drew near, the 
 boy lifted up his head, and he saw tears 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "Well, Tom, my boy, what is it; for I 
 see your thoughts are sad? What is it?" 
 
 " Why, sir, I had a dream last night, which 
 I can't get out of my mind." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 " You know that my little sister Mary is 
 dead — died when ten years old. My mother 
 was a widow, poor, but good. She never 
 seemed like herself afterwards. In a year or 
 so, she died, too ; and then I, having no home, 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 85 
 
 and no mother, came to the war. But last 
 night I dreamed the war was over, and I 
 went back to my home, and just before I got to 
 the house, my mother and little sister came out 
 to meet me. I didn't seem to remember they 
 were dead ! How glad they were ! And 
 how my mother, in her smiles, pressed me to her 
 heart! Oh, sir, it was just as real as you 
 are real now! " 
 
 " Thank God, Tom, that you have such a 
 mother, not really dead, but in heaven, and that 
 you are hoping, through Christ, to meet her 
 again." The boy wiped his eyes and was 
 comforted. 
 
 The next day there was terrible fighting. 
 Tom's drum was heard all day long, here and 
 there. Four times the ground was swept 
 and occupied by the two contending armies. 
 But as the night came on, both paused, and 
 neither dared to go on the field, lest the foe 
 be there. Tom, "the young deacon," it was 
 known, was wounded and left on the battle- 
 field. His company encamped near the 
 battle-field. In the evening, when the noise of 
 battle was over, and all was still, they heard 
 
86 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 a voice singing, away off on the field. They 
 felt sure it was Tom's voice. Softly and 
 beautifully the words floated on the wings of 
 night,— 
 
 "Jesus ! 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 Saviour, hide, 
 Till the storm of life is past ! 
 Safe into the haven guide, 
 Oh, 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 ! " — *- 
 
 The voice stopped here, and there was silence. 
 In the morning the soldiers went out and found 
 Tom sitting on the ground, and leaning against 
 a stump — dead! His soul went up in the 
 song. Did his mother and Mary meet him? 
 Whc can say ? But poor Tom was not created 
 for this world, was he ? — 
 
 " BOCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME." 
 
 — Augustus Toplady. 
 Belcher writes : — " The death of the author 
 
TBOPHIES OF SONG. 87 
 
 of this favorite hymn was indeed that of the 
 Christian. A short time before his decease, at 
 his own request, his physician felt his pulse, 
 and was asked what he thought of it. His 
 reply was that "the heart and arteries beat 
 weaker and weaker;" the reply of the dying 
 saint, as the sweetest of smiles sat on his 
 countenance, was, "Why, that is a good sign 
 my death is fast approaching ; and, blessed be 
 God, I can add that my heart beats every 
 day stronger and stronger for glory." Still 
 nearer to his end he said, " Oh, my dear sir, 
 it is impossible to describe how good God 
 is to me ! Since I have been sitting in this 
 chair this afternoon, glory be to His name, I 
 have enjoyed such a season, such sweet com-v 
 munion with God, and such delightful manifes- 
 tations of his presence and love to my soul, 
 that it is impossible for any language to ex- 
 press them. I have had peace and joy unutter- 
 able; and I fear not that God's consolations 
 and support will continue." But immediately 
 recollecting himself, he continued, " What 
 have I said? God may, to be sure, as a Sover- 
 eign, hide his face and his smiles from me. 
 
88 . TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 However, I believe lie will not; and if lie 
 should, yet will I trust in him. I know I am 
 safe ; for his love and his covenant are ever- 
 lasting." Within an hour of his death, he 
 said, " It will not be long before God takes 
 me; for no mortal man can live" — bursting, 
 while he said it, into tears of joy, " after the 
 glories which God has manifested to my soul." 
 
 Dr. Pomeroy, in speaking of a visit he made 
 a few years ago to an Armenian Church in 
 Constantinople, says that he was greatly pleased 
 with their singing, though he could not un- 
 derstand the words. They all sung the same 
 part, and while singing the hymns their eyes 
 were closed, and as they sung the tears trickled 
 down over many cheeks. 
 
 On inquiry what the hymn was, one of the 
 missionaries told him it was, — 
 
 " Rock of Ages, cleft for me ! " 
 
 O that the singing of these precious words 
 would have like effect on the members of 
 our American churches ! 
 
 Dr. T. L. Cuyler says of this hymn : — "Of 
 all its lines the two finest are those which 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 89 
 
 are carved on a monument in Greenwood, 
 beneath the figure of Faith kneeling at a cross : 
 
 " Nothing in my hands I bring, 
 Simply to Thy cross I cling." 
 
 A little girl of my acquaintance was once 
 looking at a picture, which represents a rock in 
 the midst of a stormy sea, bearing upon its sum- 
 mit a cross to which a female figure just recov- 
 ered from the angry waves clings, faint and ex- 
 hausted, while at her feet a hand, grasping a 
 part of the wreck, is just disappearing in the 
 black water. 
 
 "What does that mean," asked the child. 
 
 "It is called ' The Rock of Ages,'" was 
 the answer. 
 
 " That means Jesus, to whom we cling for 
 salvation." 
 
 " You know the hymn says, ' Other refuge 
 have I none.' " 
 
 " Oh ! yes," said the child, after a moment's 
 hesitation, " but that rock isn't my Jesus ; when 
 I cling to him he reaches down and clings too." 
 
 The following beautiful poem is in itself a 
 commentary on this popular hymn : — 
 
90 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 " Rock of Ages, cleft for me," 
 
 Thoughtlessly the maiden sung, 
 Fell the words unconsciously 
 
 From her girlish, gleeful tongue ; 
 Sang as little children sing ; 
 
 Sang as sing the birds in June ; 
 Fell the words like light leaves down 
 
 On the current of the tune — 
 " Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
 
 Let me hide myself in Thee." 
 
 " Let me hide myself in Thee," 
 
 Felt her soul no need to hide ; 
 Sweet the song as song could be — 
 
 And she had no thought beside ; 
 All these words unheedingly 
 
 Fell from lips untouched by care, 
 Dreaming not that each might be 
 
 On some other lips a prayer — 
 " Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
 
 Let me hide myself in Thee." 
 
 " Rock of Ages, cleft, for me" — 
 
 'Twas a woman sung them now, 
 Pleadingly and prayerfully ; 
 
 Every word her heart did know, 
 Rose the song as storm-tossed bird 
 
 Beats with weary wing the air, 
 Every note with sorrow stirred — 
 
 Every syllable a prayer — 
 " Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
 
 Let me hide myself in Thee." 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 " Rock of Ages, cleft for me," 
 
 Lips grown aged sung the hymn 
 Trustingly and tenderly — 
 
 Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim, 
 "Let me hide myself in Thee, ,, 
 
 Trembling though the voice, and low, 
 Ran the sweet strain peacefully, 
 
 Like a river in its flow. 
 Sung as only they can sing 
 
 "Who life's thorny paths have pressed ; 
 Sung as only they can sing 
 
 "Who behold the promised rest — 
 "Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
 
 Let me hide myself in Thee." 
 
 " Rock of Ages, cleft for me," 
 
 Sung above a coffin-lid ; 
 Underneath, all restfully, 
 
 All Jife's joys and sorrows hid. 
 Nevermore, O storm-tossed soul ! 
 
 Nevermore from wind or tide, 
 Nevermore from billow's roll, 
 
 "Wilt thou need thyself to hide. 
 Could the sightless, sunken eyes, 
 
 Closed beneath the soft gray hair, 
 Could the mute and stiffened lips 
 
 Move again in pleading prayer, 
 Still, aye, still, the words would be, 
 " Let me hide myself in Thee." 
 
 91 
 
 " ALL HAIL THE POWER OE JESUS' NAME ! " 
 
 — Rev. Edward P err onet. 
 About the year 1808, this grand old hymn 
 
92 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 was printed at Canterbury on a card, for the 
 Sunday School, to which is appended the follow- 
 ing notice of the author: — " The Rev. Edward 
 Perronet died at Canterbury, January 2d, 1792. 
 His dying words were, ' Glory to God in the 
 height of his divinity ! Glory to God in the 
 depth of his humanity! Glory to God in his 
 all-sufficiency ! and into his hands I commend 
 my spirit.' " — Belcher. 
 
 The late William Dawson, a very plain man, 
 but a highly popular local preacher among 
 the Wesleyan Methodists of England, was, some 
 years since, preaching in London *on the offices 
 of Christ. After presenting him as the great 
 teacher and Priest, who made himself an offer- 
 ing for sin, the preacher introduced him as 
 the King of saints. Having shown that he was 
 king in his own right, he proceeded to the coro- 
 nation. Borrowing his ideas from scenes fa- 
 miliar to his audience, he marshalled the im- 
 mense procession moving toward the grand 
 temple to place the insignia of royalty upon 
 the King of the Universe. So vividly did 
 the preacher present the scene, that his hearers 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 93 
 
 almost thought they were gazing upon that long 
 line of patriarchs and kings, prophets and 
 apostles, martyrs and confessors of every age 
 and clime, until at length the great temple was 
 filled, and the solemn and imposing ceremony 
 of coronation was about to take place. The 
 audience by this time were wrought up to the 
 highest pitch of excitement; and, while mo- 
 mentarily expecting to hear the anthem peal out 
 from the vast assemblage, the preacher com- 
 menced singing, — 
 
 " All hail the power of Jesus' name ! " 
 
 The effect was electrical. The audience started 
 to their feet and sang the hymn with such spirit 
 and feeling as perhaps it was never sang before 
 or since. — Belcher. 
 
 " THERE IS A FOTHSTTAISr FILLED WITH BLOOD." 
 
 — William Cowper. 
 A notorious robber of New York grew 
 weary of his sinful life, and wanted to become 
 a Christian, but almost despaired of being saved. 
 A Christian man talked and prayed with him, 
 but could not give him any encouragement. 
 He then sang the first verse of — 
 
94 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 " There is a fountain rilled with blood," 
 
 but the poor man said, " there is nothing in that 
 for me." He then sang the second verse, — 
 
 " The dying thief rejoiced to see 
 That fountain in his day ; 
 And there may I, though vile as he, 
 Wash all my sins away." 
 
 " That means me" said the penitent robber. 
 Hope sprung up in his heart, and he was 
 soon after happily converted. 
 
 A POOR Sabbath scholar has fallen down a 
 hatchway and broken his hip. The doctor 
 says he is internally injured, and that he 
 cannot help him. The boy's teacher is sent 
 for, and is surprised at the greeting he re- 
 ceived. " Teacher, you are just in time to 
 hear my great joy; I am going home to 
 Jesus." "I did not know you ever thought 
 about such things, John; how long have you 
 felt so ? " " Dear teacher, you never asked 
 me; I have been longing to have you for six 
 months. Now sing my favorite hymn with 
 me, dear teacher." And while they sang the 
 sweet words, — 
 
TKOPHXES OF SONG. 95 
 
 " And sinners plunged beneath that flood, 
 Lose all their guilty stains/ ' 
 
 tlie messenger came to call the lad Home. 
 
 Shortly after the visit of Mr. Moody and 
 Mr. Sankey to Scotland, a little boy passed 
 along the streets of Glasgow in the evening sing- 
 ing, 
 
 " There is a fountain filled with blood." 
 
 A Christian policeman joined in the song. At 
 the end of the policeman's beat he asked the boy 
 if he understood what he was singing. 
 
 " Oh yes, said the little fellow, " I know it in 
 my heart and it is very precious" 
 
 A few evenings afterward some one, in con- 
 versation with the policeman, said : 
 
 "Do you know that a woman standing where 
 we are was awakened and saved by hearing the 
 other night a hymn sung by a policeman and a 
 boy?" 
 
 " E'er since by faith I saw the stream 
 
 Thy flowing wounds supply, 
 Redeeming love has been my theme 
 
 And shall be till I die. 
 
96 TROPHIES OF SOKG. 
 
 "Then in a nobler, sweeter song 
 
 I'll sing thy power to save, 
 When this poor, lisping, stammering tongue 
 
 Lies silent in the grave." 
 
 In a religious awakening a pastor invited a 
 meeting of the young people of his congregation 
 in the parsonage. The room was thronged with 
 anxious inquirers. During the opening exer- 
 cises he observed a young lady deeply affected. 
 She was one of the most estimable young ladies 
 of his congregation, one whose amenity of man- 
 ner and purity of life might have been copied to 
 advantage by many of the members of his 
 church. Calling her by name, he inquired, 
 " What has brought you here ? " 
 
 " My sins, sir," was her deep and earnest re- 
 sponse. 
 
 " But," said he, wishing to test the soundness 
 of her convictions, " what have you done that 
 you should feel so deeply ? " 
 
 " O, sir," said she, " I hate God, and I know 
 it." 
 
 Perhaps never before that hour had she com- 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 97 
 
 prehended how deep and fearful is the enmity 
 of the carnal mind to God. 
 
 " I hate God, and I know it ; I have a heart 
 opposed to all good ; I hate my own life, and 
 now see how empty and worthless — nay, how 
 insulting to God — have been all my good deeds, 
 with which I thought to merit his favor ! O 
 how utterly wretched and lost is my soul ! " 
 
 She rose and went into an adjoining room. 
 There she paced the floor to and fro, in an agony 
 of soul bordering upon despair. 
 
 " What mockery ! " she exclaimed. "How 
 have I deceived and ruined my soul ! My con- 
 demnation is just ! But O, my God, where shall 
 deliverance be found ? " 
 
 Just then she took a hymn-book, and her eye 
 lit upon this stanza : 
 
 " There is a fountain filled with blood, 
 
 Drawn from Immanuel's veins; 
 And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, 
 
 Lose all their guilty stains." 
 
 In one moment she was enabled, by faith, 
 to plunge beneath that flood. Quicker than 
 thought light broke in upon her soul; the Di- 
 
98 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 vine Spirit filled her with his presence, and she 
 burst forth into an exultant song, — 
 
 " My God is reconciled; 
 
 His pard'ning voice I hear: 
 He owns me for his child 
 
 I can no longer fear." 
 
 At Hamilton Camp-meeting a man, whose 
 vices had made him miserable, stopped at one of 
 the tents where he heard them singing, — 
 
 " There is a fountain rilled with blood." 
 
 He heard the first verse : 
 " That's not for me." 
 The second began, — 
 
 " The dying thief rejoiced to see 
 That fountain in his day — " 
 
 " That's for me ! That's for me ! and a few 
 minutes later he was kneeling in the tent pray- 
 ing for mercy, which he soon found. 
 
 "OH, FOR A THOUSAND TONGUES TO SING." 
 
 — Charles Wesley. 
 Chaeles Wesley, when speaking to Peter 
 Bohler of the sense of pardon sealed on his con- 
 science, said: " I suppose I had better keep 
 
TBOPHIES OF SONG- 99 
 
 silent about it." The good Moravian shook him 
 by the hand and replied, " Oh ! no, my brother ; 
 if you had a thousand tongues, go and use them 
 all for Jesus ; " and he went home and wrote :— 
 
 " Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing 
 
 My great Redeemer's praise; 
 The glories of my God and King, 
 
 The triumphs of his grace. 
 
 " My gracious Master, and my God, 
 
 Assist me to proclaim, — 
 To spread through all the earth abroad, 
 
 The honors of thy name. 
 
 " Jesus, the name that charms my fears 
 
 That bids our sorrows cease ; 
 'Tis music in the sinner's ears, 
 
 'Tis life, and health, and peace. 
 
 He breaks the power of cancelTd sin, 
 
 He sets the pris'ner free; 
 His blood can make the foulest clean; 
 
 His blood avail' d for me." 
 
 This hymn is also said to have been written 
 by the author on the first anniversary of the 
 conversion of himself and his brother John. 
 It originally contained eighteen verses, and 
 was entitled ".For the Anniversary of One* s 
 
100 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 Conversion" It was first published in the 
 year 1739. 
 
 During the great conflagration in Chicago, 
 the Grace Methodist Episcopal Church, with 
 many others, was burned. The pastor,* Rev. 
 Mr. Parkhurst, after toiling all night with 
 and among the sufferers, pointing them to the 
 many mansions on high, and the temple not 
 made with hands, where no fire shall con- 
 sume, met three hundred of his homeless peo- 
 ple on the ruins of their late beautiful house 
 of worship, and sang: — 
 
 " Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing 
 My great Redeemer's praise." 
 
 "NEARER, my god, to thee." 
 
 — -Sarah Flower Adams. 
 
 Dr. Cttyler says of Sarah Flower, the wri- 
 ter of this soul-stirring hymn: "She was 
 worthy of her name. For ' Sarah' signifies 
 a princess, and a sweeter fragrance has rarely 
 exhaled from any flower in the garden of the 
 Lord. This gifted girl married Mr. William 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 101 
 
 B. Adams, an English civil engineer of supe- 
 rior abilities. She was of frail constitution, 
 and amid many bodily sufferings she kept her 
 pen at work upon various poetical productions. 
 At what time she caught the inspiration to 
 compose that one immortal hymn, which is 
 now sung around the globe, we have never 
 learned. Probably it was some season of pe- 
 culiar trial, when the bruised spirit emitted 
 the odors of a child-like submission to a 
 chastening Father. It must have oozed from 
 a bleeding heart. Her hymn first appeared 
 in a volume of sacred lyrics, published by a 
 Mr. Fox, in England, about the year 1841. 
 The authoress did not live to catch the echoes 
 of the fame it was to bring, for she died in 
 1849, at the age of 44. She was buried in 
 Harlow, in Essex, and for several years her 
 name was known to but few beyond the cir- 
 cle of loving friends who read it on her mon- 
 ument. Presently the hymn began to work 
 its way into various collections of songs for 
 worship. It crossed to America. It was 
 heard with delight in our prayer meetings. 
 It was married to the noble tune of "Beth- 
 
102 TKOPKCES OF SOKG. 
 
 any," and everybody caught the glorious 
 strain. In noonday gatherings for prayer, it 
 soon became so familiar that if any one " struck 
 up" the hymn the whole audience joined in. 
 
 "my faith looks up to thee." 
 
 — Ray Palmer, D. D. 
 
 It is, by far, the most precious contribution 
 which American genius has yet made to the 
 hymnology of the Christian church. The 
 author of it was a native of " Little Comp- 
 ton," in Rhode Island, and was graduated 
 from old Yale in 1830. Immediately after 
 leaving college he came to New York, and 
 spent a few hours each day in teaching young 
 ladies in a school which stood in the then 
 fashionable quarter of Fulton Street, behind 
 St. Paul's church. In December of that year 
 (1830), just forty years ago, he sat down one 
 day in his room, and wrote in his pocket 
 memorandum book four simple verses, which 
 he says " were born of my own soul," and 
 were not written to be seen by another eye. 
 He wrote them rapidly, and. with his eyes 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 103 
 
 swimming in tears. The first verse reads 
 thus : — 
 
 " My faith looks up to Thee, 
 Thou Lamb of Calvary, 
 
 Saviour divine ! 
 Now hear me while I pray, 
 Take all my guilt away, 
 Oh, let me from this day 
 
 Be wholly thine ! " 
 
 He put the memorandum book into his pocket, 
 and carried it there for two whole years, little 
 dreaming that he was carrying about with him 
 his own passport to immortality. One day Dr. 
 Lowell Mason met him in the streets of Bos- 
 ton, and asked him to furnish some hymns 
 for the volume of "Spiritual Songs," which 
 he (Dr. Mason) and Dr. Thomas Hastings 
 were about to publish. The young college 
 graduate drew from his pocket the lines, — 
 
 " My faith looks up to Thee.' ' 
 
 Dr. Mason went home, and catching a similar 
 inspiration to that of the author of the lines, 
 composed for them that beautiful tune of 
 "Olivet," to which the hymn is wedded unto 
 this day. Dr. Mason met the author a few days 
 
104 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 afterwards and said to him prophetically, " Mr. 
 Palmer, yon may live many years and do many 
 good things, bnt I think that you will be best 
 known to posterity as the author of this 
 hymn." The prediction is fulfilled. The man 
 who sang this sweet song of Calvary is still 
 living, and has composed many tender and 
 beautiful poems and discourses ; but his de- 
 vout mind flowered out in one matchless lily 
 whose rich odors have filled the Courts of our 
 God with fragrance. 
 
 How many a penitent, while reading or 
 singing that hymn, has looked up to Calvary's 
 Cross and found peace in believing! In how 
 many a prayer-meeting has it been sung 
 through tears of holy gratitude ! To how 
 many a sick chamber and dying bed has it 
 come like a strain from that heavenly land 
 which was already in full view! 
 
 The poetry of the hymn is as perfect as its 
 theology. In its structure it closely resembles 
 the " Rock of Ages." It begins in penitence ; 
 it ends in praise. It begins in heart-broken 
 sorrow, and concludes with the most glorious 
 assurance of hope. In the first verse the sup- 
 
TBOPHIES OF SONG. 105 
 
 pliant is represented as bowing before the cru- 
 cified Saviour, and looking up to him, and to 
 him only. He sees none but Jesus. His cry 
 is,— 
 
 "Take all my guilt away." 
 
 His aspiration is, — 
 
 " Oh, let me from this day 
 Be wholly thine." 
 
 Before that cross the praying soul obtains 
 strength, and a pure, warm, and changeless love 
 for his Redeemer. He is filled with a "living 
 fire." He is the new man in Christ Jesus. 
 But as he looks forward, he foresees a "dark 
 maze " of trial before him, overhung with clouds 
 of grief that lower black and terrible, and 
 sometimes weep great showers of tears. Sur- 
 rounded with these discouraging clouds of con- 
 fusion and temptation he shouts out like one 
 lost in the dark, — 
 
 " Be thou my guide, 
 Bid darkness turn to day, 
 "Wipe sorrow's tear away, 
 Nor let me ever stray 
 From Thee aside." 
 
 Before him lies still one more valley darker 
 
106 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 than any passed before. It is that vale in which 
 end's "life's transient dream." Through it rolls 
 death's cold and sullen stream. He already im- 
 agines himself in the swelling of Jordan. And 
 as the floods go over him, he lifts his last victo- 
 rious voice of sublime trust, — 
 
 "Blest Saviour! then in lovo 
 Fear and distrust remove; 
 Oh, bear me safe above, 
 A ransomed soul" 
 
 Such is the grandeur of American hymns. Is 
 it not the graudeur of this century? And if 
 our readers wish to know, and to thank its 
 modest author, they have but to go into " the 
 Bible House " in New York, and take by the 
 hand our genial and beloved friend, Dr. Ray 
 Palmer. — Rev. T. L. Cuyler in " Heart Life" 
 
 "have you on the lord believed?" 
 
 A vast fortune was left in the hands of a 
 minister for one of his poor parishioners. Fear- 
 ing that it might be squandered, if suddenly be- 
 stowed upon him, the wise minister sent him a 
 little at a time with a note saying : " This is 
 thine: use it wisely; there is more to follow." 
 
TEOPHIES OF SONG. 107 
 
 This incident, as told by Mr. Moody, suggested 
 to Mr. Bliss his popular bymn, " More to follow." 
 
 " Have you on the Lord believed? 
 
 Still there's more to follow; 
 Of his grace have you received? 
 
 Still there's more to follow; 
 Oh, the grace the Father shows! 
 
 Still there's more to follow, 
 Freely he his grace bestows, 
 
 Still there's more to follow." 
 
 VARIOUS statements having been published 
 respecting the origin of the famous hymn, " The 
 Ninety and Nine," sung by Mr. Sankey, it is 
 well to follow them with the sweet singer's own 
 account, which is to the effect that the hymn 
 was written by a Miss Eliza C. Clephane of Mel- 
 rose, Scotland, a member of the church of Scot- 
 land. It was first published in The Family 
 Treasury^ of which the late Dr. Arnot was edi- 
 tor. But Mr. Sankey found it in The Christian 
 Age, a London religious paper. 
 
 " There were ninety and nine that safely lay 
 
 In the shelter of the fold, 
 But one was out on the hills away, 
 
 Far off from the gates of gold — 
 
108 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 Away on the mountains wild and bare, 
 Away from the tender Shepherd's care. 
 
 " ' Lord, thou hast here thy ninety and nine; 
 
 Are they not enough for thee? ' 
 But the Shepherd made answer: l 'Tis of mine 
 
 Has wandered away from me ; 
 And although the road be rough and steep 
 I go to the desert to find my sheep." 
 
 " DEPTHS OF MERCY ! CA^ THERE BE." 
 
 — Chaises Wesley. 
 An actress in one of the English provincial or 
 country theatres, was one day passing through 
 the streets of the town in which she resided, 
 when her attention was attracted by the sound 
 of voices in a poor cottage before her. Curi- 
 osity prompted her to look in at the open door, 
 when she saw a few people sitting together, one 
 of whom, at the moment of her observation, was 
 giving out the hymn, which the others joined in 
 singing,— 
 
 " Depths of mercy! can there be 
 Mercy still reserved for me? " 
 
 The tune was sweet and simple ; but she 
 heeded it not. The words had riveted her at- 
 tention, and she stood motionless, until she was 
 invited to enter by the woman of the house, 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 109 
 
 who had observed her standing at the door. 
 She remained during a prayer which was offered 
 up by one of the little company ; and, uncouth 
 as the expressions sounded, perhaps, to her 
 ears, they carried with them a conviction of sin- 
 cerity on the part of the person engaged. 
 She quitted the cottage ; but the words 
 of the hymn followed her, and at last she 
 resolved to procure the book which contained 
 it. She did so ; and the more she read it, 
 the more decided her serious impressions be- 
 came. She attended the ministry of the 
 gospel, read her hitherto neglected and de- 
 spised Bible, and bowed herself in humility 
 and contrition of heart before Him whose 
 mercy she now felt she needed, whose sacri- 
 fices are those of a broken heart and a con- 
 trite spirit, and who has declared that with 
 such sacrifices he is well pleased. 
 
 Her profession she determined at once to 
 renounce, and for some time excused herself 
 from appearing on the stage, without, how- 
 ever, making known her resolution finally to 
 leave it. 
 
 The manager of the theatre called upon 
 
110 TBOPKCES OF SONG. 
 
 her one morning and requested her to sustain 
 the principal character in a new play which 
 was to be performed the next week. She 
 had frequently performed this character to 
 general admiration; but she now, however, 
 told him her resolution never to appear as an 
 actress again, at the same time giving her 
 reasons. At first he attempted to overcome 
 her scruples by ridicule; but this was una- 
 vailing: he then represented the loss he would 
 incur by her refusal, and concluded by prom- 
 ising that if, to oblige him, she would act on 
 this occasion, it would be the last request of 
 the kind he would ever make. Unable to re- 
 sist his solicitations, she promised to appear, 
 and on the appointed evening went to the 
 theatre. The character which she assumed 
 required her, on her first entrance, to sing a 
 song; and, when the curtain drew up, the 
 orchestra immediately began the accompani- 
 ment. But she stood as if lost in thought, 
 and as one forgetting all around her and her 
 situation. The music ceased, but she did not 
 sing; and, supposing her to be overcome by 
 embarrassment, the band again commenced. 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. Ill 
 
 A second time they paused for her to begin; 
 and still she did not open her lips. A third 
 time the air was played; and then, with 
 clasped hands and eyes suffused with tears, 
 she sang, — not the words of the song, but, — 
 
 u Depth of mercy ! can there be 
 Mercy still reserved for me ? " 
 
 It is almost needless to add that the per- 
 formance was suddenly ended. Many ridi- 
 culed, though some were induced from that 
 memorable night to " consider their ways," 
 and to reflect on the wonderful power of the 
 religion which could influence the heart and 
 change the life of one hitherto so vain and 
 so evidently pursuing the road which leadeth 
 
 to destruction. The change in Miss was 
 
 as permanent as it was singular: she walked 
 consistently with her profession of religion 
 for many years, and at length became the 
 wife of a minister of the gospel of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ. — Belcher; see also "Hedged in" 
 by E. S. Phelps, p. 35. 
 
112 TEOPHTES OF SONG. 
 
 " FREE FROM THE LAW, OH, HAPPY CONDITION." 
 
 A gentleman iii Edinburgh was in distress 
 of soul, and happened to linger in a pew after 
 the noon meeting. The choir had remained to 
 practise, and began 
 
 "Free from the law, oh, happy condition," 
 
 etc. Quickly the Spirit of God carried that 
 truth home to the awakened conscience, and he 
 was at rest in the finished work of Jesus. 
 
 " GUIDE ME, O THOU GREAT JEHOYAH ." 
 
 — William Williams. 
 The power of this hymn as a shield is illus- 
 trated by an allegory of Christmas Evans. 
 " I see the unclean spirit rising like a winged 
 dragon, circling in the air, and seeking for 
 a resting-place. Casting his fiery glances 
 toward a certain neighborhood, he spies a 
 young man in the bloom of life, and rejoicing in 
 his strength, seated on the front of his cart, 
 going for lime. ' There he is ! ' said the old 
 dragon ; ' his veins are full of blood, and his 
 bones of marrow ; I will throw into his bosom 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 113 
 
 sparks from hell ; I will set all his passions 
 on fire ; I will lead him from bad to worse, 
 until he shall perpetrate every sin. I will 
 make him a murderer, and his soul shall sink, 
 never again to rise, in the lake of fire.' By this 
 time, I see it descend, with a fell swoop toward 
 the earth ; but, nearer the youth, the dragon 
 heard him sing, — 
 
 ' Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah! 
 
 Pilgrim through this barren land: 
 I am weak, but thou art mighty; 
 
 Hold me with thy powerful hand. 
 Strong Deliverer, 
 Be thou still my strength and shield.' 
 
 * A dry, dry place this,' says the old dragon ; 
 and away he goes. But I see him again hover- 
 ing about in the air, and casting about for a 
 suitable resting-place. Beneath his eye there 
 is a flowery meadow, watered by a crystal 
 stream ; and he descries among the kine a 
 maiden, about eighteen years of age, picking up 
 here and there a beautiful flower. ' There she 
 is ! ' says Apollyon, intent upon her soul ; ' I 
 will poison her thoughts ; she shall stray from 
 
114 
 
 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 the paths of virtue ; she shall think evil thoughts 
 and become impure ; she shall become a lost 
 creature in the great city, and, at last, I will cast 
 her down from the precipice into everlasting 
 burnings. 5 Again he took his downward flight, 
 but he no sooner came near the maiden, than he 
 heard her sing the following words, with a voice 
 that might have melted the rocks, — 
 
 1 Other refuge have I none; 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee; 
 Leave, ah! leave me not alone: 
 
 Still support and comfort me.' 
 
 Again he turned away defeated. The devil, can 
 say, as did the enemies of the reformers, ' By 
 their songs we are conquered.' " 
 
 OUR SHIELD OF SONG* 
 
TROPHIES OF SOKG. 115 
 
 "ALMOST persuaded." 
 
 Mr. Sankey was with Mr. Moody in Phila- 
 delphia, years since, dnring the progress of a very 
 interesting meeting at Dr. Keed's church, when 
 many were being awakened, and sang this beau- 
 tiful Gospel hymn, " Almost Persuaded." After 
 the close of the meeting, an attorney, who had 
 been very much interested, came forward and 
 said that he was not only " almost " but " alto- 
 gether persuaded " to put his trust in the Lord 
 Jesus. This sweet song was used of the Holy 
 Ghost in carrying the blessed Gospel of God's 
 Son to his heart. 
 
 " Almost persuaded " now to believe; 
 " .Almost persuaded " Christ to receive; 
 
 Seems now some soul to say, 
 
 " Go, Spirit, go thy way, 
 
 Some more convenient day 
 
 On thee I'll call." 
 
 "Almost persuaded," come, come to-day; 
 " Almost persuaded," turn not away; 
 
 Jesus invites you here, 
 
 Angels are lingering near, 
 
 Prayers rise from hearts so dear: 
 
 O wanderer, come. 
 
 "Almost persuaded," harvest is past! 
 "Almost persuaded," doom comos at lastl 
 
116 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 "Almost " cannot avail; 
 " Almost " is but to fail! 
 Sad, sad that bitter wail — 
 "Almost — but lost!" 
 
 "there is a land of pure delight." 
 
 — Isaac Watts. 
 
 We learn from an American writer, who ob- 
 tained his information on the spot, that the 
 author of this familiar hymn, — in which every 
 image is said to be scriptural, every suggestion 
 appropriate, and every association holy, — wrote 
 it at Southampton, his native town, while sit- 
 ting at the window of a parlor which overlooked 
 the River Itchen, and in full view of the Isle of 
 Wight, " beyond the swelling flood," represent- 
 ing " the land of pure delight," — 
 
 " Where everlasting spring abides, 
 And never-withering flowers." 
 
 It is indeed a fair and beautiful type of that 
 paradise of which the poet sung. It rises from 
 the margin of the flood and swells into bound- 
 less prospect, all mantled in the richest verdure 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 117 
 
 of summer, checkered with forest growth, and 
 fruitful fields under the highest cultivation, and 
 gardens, and villas, and every adornment which 
 the hand of man, in the series of ages, could 
 create on such susceptible grounds. As the poet 
 looked upon the waters then before him, he 
 thought of the final passage of the Christian, — 
 
 "Death, like a narrow sea, divides 
 This heavenly land from ours." 
 
 — Belcher. 
 
 Oh, I do not know how we shall stand the 
 first day in heaven. Do you not think we will 
 break down in the song from over-delight ? I 
 once gave out in church the hymn : 
 
 " There is a land of pure delight, 
 Where saints immortal reign," 
 
 and an aged man standing in front of the pulpit 
 sang heartily the first verse, and then he sat 
 down weeping. I said to him afterward, " Fa- 
 ther Linton, what made you cry over that 
 hymn ? " He said, " I could not stand it — the 
 joys that are coming." 
 
 —T. Dewitt Talmage, 
 
118 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 "AEISE, MY SOUL, ARISE." 
 
 — Charles Wesley. 
 
 " Notice the first trial that the world ever 
 saw. God reads the charge, 4 Where is Abel, 
 thy brother?" Cain has the presumption to 
 deny his guilt: 'I know not.' The trial pro- 
 ceeds: a brother's blood is the terrible accuser, 
 and when sentence of banishment has been* 
 pronounced, the condemned man goes forth, 
 crying out, 'My guilt is greater than I can 
 bear.' ' From thy face shall I be hid.' " 
 
 " I am thinking of another trial scene," said 
 Mizpah, with such emotion that every one 
 eagerly listened. "The judge is the infinite 
 God, and the guilty one is my soul. The blood 
 of Christ might cry out against me from the 
 cross, as my accuser, but it ' speaketh better 
 things than that of Abel;' it speaketh as my 
 advocate, — 
 
 1 Five bleeding wounds he bears, 
 Received on Calvary ; 
 They pour effectual prayers, 
 They strongly plead for me : 
 
 Kote. — This hymn represents every step of the prodigal's expe- 
 rience, from the time when he says "I will arise," to the 
 glad moment when the Father "owns him for his child." The 
 story in Luke xv. should be read in connection with the hymn. 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 119 
 
 Forgive him, O forgive, they cry, 
 Nor let that ransomed sinner die.* 
 
 Through this advocate we may be saved from 
 the terrible cry of banishment, 4 From thy face 
 shall 1 be hid ! ' " 
 
 "STAND UP! STAND UP FOE JESUS ! " 
 
 — Rev. Geo. Duffield, Jr. 
 This deservedly popular hymn was composed 
 to be sung after a sermon delivered by its au- 
 thor, the Sabbath following the mournfully sud- 
 den death of the Rev. Dudley A. Tyng, who 
 was called from earth in 1858, and whose dying 
 counsel to his brethren in the ministry was, — 
 
 " Stand up for Jesus! " 
 
 — Belcher. 
 
 "come thou fount of every blessing." 
 
 — Robinson. 
 
 The author of this hymn was at different 
 
 times Calvinist, Socinian, Baptist, Independent, 
 
 Methodist and lastly irreligious. During this 
 
 last state of life his attention was called to this 
 
120 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 hymn, and he said, " I would give a thousand 
 worlds to enjoy the feelings I then had." In 
 view of such an experience we may well pray, as 
 well as sing, — 
 
 rt Let thy goodness, like a fetter, 
 Bind my wandering heart to thee." 
 
 "JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT OKE PLEA." 
 
 A Jew in New York, who professed not to 
 believe in either Judaism or Christianity, a 
 worldly, fashionable, pleasure-serving, man was 
 seized by a dangerous disease and told that he 
 could live only a few days. 
 
 In spite of professed infidelity he became anx- 
 ious about the future. Minister after minister 
 called upon him, talked and prayed, but in vain. 
 At length a Christian business man came in, and 
 during his call sang, — 
 
 " Just as I am without one plea," 
 
 The Jew exclaimed, "Do you really mean 
 that for me ? You* know what I have been — 
 worldly, skeptical, pleasure-loving. Be very 
 sure, now. Do you really mean that for me ? " 
 
TROPHIES OF SOXG. 121 
 
 "Yes, I do just that." With much inward 
 struggle the Jew was able to make the words of 
 the hymn his own and say to Christ, — 
 
 " Just as I am, I come, I come." 
 
 A few days later he died trusting in Him, — 
 
 " Whose love unknown 
 
 Had broken every barrier down." 
 
 A little boy came to one of our city mission- 
 aries, and holding out a dirty and well-worn bit 
 of printed paper, said, — 
 
 " Please, sir, father sent me to get a clean pa- 
 per like that." 
 
 Taking it from his hand, the missionary un- 
 folded it, and found it was a page containing 
 that beautiful hymn of which the first stanza is 
 as follows : 
 
 (t Just as I am, without one plea 
 But that thy blood was shed for me, 
 And that thou biddst me come to thee, 
 O Lamb of God, I come! " 
 
 The missionary looked down with interest into 
 the face earnestly upturned to him, and asked 
 the little boy where he got it, and why he wanted 
 a clean one. 
 
122 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 " We found it, sir," said he, " in sister's pocket 
 after she died ; and she used to sing it all the 
 time when she was sick, and loved it so much 
 that father wanted to get a clean one to put in 
 a frame to hang it up. Wont you give us a 
 clean one, sir ? " 
 
 This little page, with a single hymn on it, had 
 been cast upon the air, like a fallen leaf, by 
 Christian hands, humbly hoping to do some 
 possible good. In some little mission Sunday- 
 school, probably, this poor girl had thoughtlessly 
 received it, afterwards to find in it, we hope, the 
 Gospel of her salvation. Could she, in any prob- 
 ability, have gone down into death, sweetly sing- 
 ing that hymn of penitence and faith in Jesus to 
 her latest breath, without the saving knowledge 
 of him, which the Holy Spirit imparts ? 
 
 " PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS ELOW." 
 
 Many have heard from Chaplain McCabe's 
 own fire-touched lips, how this grand old 
 doxology, that has doubtless been on more 
 lips than any other uninspired production, 
 was sung by the starving " boys in blue " 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 123 
 
 that were incarcerated in Libby Prison. Day- 
 after day they saw comrades passing away, 
 and their numbers increased by fresh, living 
 recruits for the grave. One night about ten 
 o'clock, through the stillness and the darkness, 
 they heard the tramp of coming feet, that 
 soon stopped before the prison door until 
 arrangements could be made inside. In the 
 company was a young Baptist minister, whose 
 heart almost fainted as he looked on those 
 cold walls and thought of the suffering inside. 
 Tired and weary he sat down, put his face 
 in his hands and wept. Just then a lone voice 
 of deep, sweet pathos, sung out from an 
 upper window, — 
 
 " Praise God from whom all blessings flow ; " 
 
 and a dozen manly voices joined in the second 
 line, — 
 
 " Praise Him all creatures here below ; v 
 
 and then by the time the third was reached, 
 more than a score of hearts were full, and 
 these joined to send the words on high, — 
 
 "Praise Him above ye heavenly host ; *' 
 
 and by this time the prison was all alive, 
 
124 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 and seemed to quiver with the sacred song, 
 as from every room and cell those brave men 
 sang,— 
 
 "Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." 
 
 As the song died out on the still night that 
 enveloped in darkness the doomed city of Rich- 
 mond, the young man arose and happily said, — 
 
 " Prisons would palaces prove, 
 
 If Jesus would dwell with me there." 
 
 In the great cotton famine in England, which 
 desolated Lancashire for long and weary 
 months, the conduct of the operatives was 
 the admiration of the world. There were 
 no riots and no excess of crimes. The people, 
 men and women, went into the Sunday-school 
 houses and prayed. They had been taught 
 to do so, and they were upheld in the time 
 of trial by the truths they had learned. When 
 the first wagon load of cotton arrived, the 
 people unhooked the horses and drew it them- 
 selves, and surrounding it began to sing — what 
 do you think they sang ? They sang the grand 
 old doxology, while the tears came flowing 
 down their cheeks. 
 
CONSECRATED VOICES. 
 
 A young Scottish lady of rank, whose heart 
 the Lord had touched and opened, longed to 
 draw others within the circle of a Saviour's 
 love ; but among the gay and proud who were 
 her companions, the merry jest, the gay laugh, 
 and the light and frivolous manner of her 
 associates, hindered every effort, and seemed 
 to hedge her way before her on every hand. 
 Discouraged and sad, oppressed with the bur- 
 den of the Lord, and knowing not how to 
 attain the desire of her heart, she carried the 
 matter to God in prayer, and, as was her 
 custom, closed the day with a song of praise. 
 Shortly after she had finished her song, her 
 serving maid entered the room in tears, and 
 besought her to sing again the sacred words, 
 and in broken accents told how those strains 
 had touched and melted her heart. 
 
 "No words of entreaty," said she, "could 
 ever affect my soul as those plaintive songs 
 to which for weeks I had listened, as my 
 mistress poured out in them her love for the 
 Redeemer, and her faith and trust in him." 
 
 125 
 
126 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 Sleep fled that night from the eyes of the 
 young disciple, in the new joy and thank- 
 fulness that filled her heart at the discovery 
 of the blessing God had granted upon the songs 
 she had sung. " That talent," she said, " I 
 have consecrated to God. I will sing for him ; 
 and if through this means I may touch souls, 
 my happiness shall be complete." 
 
 From this time, she devoted herself to the 
 study and expression of sacred song; and 
 while she touched with skill the various in- 
 struments on which she had learned to play, 
 her voice of wondrous power would entrance 
 and thrill her hearers. It was the outgushing 
 of her joyous heart; the thanksgiving of a 
 redeemed soul; her testimony, poured upon 
 careless ears, concerning the wondrous love 
 of him who came to save our race; who cares 
 for all his creatures; who gathered little chil- 
 dren to his arms, and whose blessing crowns 
 with joy the saint of God, even down to hoary 
 hairs. Many were charmed and cheered with 
 her songs. The sweet story of old, thus ren- 
 dered, seemed to possess new power to melt 
 the careless heart. In cottages and halls, in 
 
TROPHIES OF SONG. 127 
 
 the drawing-room of wealth and the homes 
 of humble life, she sung her songs for Jesus, 
 while with lifted heart she sought his bless- 
 ing on the offering; and ere many months 
 had passed away, she had the delight of know- 
 ing that numbers of those around her had, 
 through the songs she sang, been led to taste 
 the joy which she tasted, being brought up 
 out of the horrible pit and miry clay, and 
 placed upon the Living Rock, and having a 
 new song put in their mouths. 
 
 The choir of a church in New York city 
 have truly consecrated their gift of song to 
 the service of Christ. Not content with lead- 
 ing the praise of the great congregation, they 
 are earnest song-workers in the Sunday-school. 
 And they do not stop here. An aged blind 
 woman will tell you how often they make her 
 lonely home happy, bringing to her visions 
 and dreams of the beautiful land. No wonder 
 the dear old soul, in humble, but heartfelt ap- 
 preciation, breaks in upon the strains which 
 they sing, with her tender, "Bless the Lord! " 
 If you follow these song messengers after they 
 
128 
 
 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 have left the blind Christian, you shall find them 
 among the sick and dying. The sufferer forgets 
 his pain, in listening to their melodies ; and the 
 spirit that is going home, floats peacefully away 
 to its rest in heaven. 
 
 Church and Sunday-school singers everywhere 
 might well ponder the blessed example of this 
 choir, and join them in making the waste places 
 around them vocal with " songs of the beauti- 
 ful." 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP 
 MR. IRA D. SANKEY. 
 
 Mr. Sankey was born in Edinburgh, Pa., in 
 the year 1840. His father was English, and his 
 mother Scotch-Irish. The early influences that 
 surrounded his life were those of a Christian 
 home. A Scotch neighbor named Frazer intro- 
 duced him to the Sunday-school at an early age, 
 and by this and other acts of Christian friend- 
 ship greatly endeared himself to the future evan- 
 gelist, who often makes grateful mention of his 
 kindness, and his praying as the means of his 
 conversion. At seventeen Mr. Sankey joined 
 the Methodist Episcopal church, of which he is 
 still a member. 
 
 When only twenty he was elected superinten- 
 dent in the Sunday-school and while filling this 
 
 129 
 
 ( 
 
130 APPENDIX. 
 
 position began to sing sacred solos and to use 
 sacred songs to express and impress the Gospel. 
 A few years later he was appointed a class- 
 leader, and in that position urged upon his class 
 the importance of using God's " testimonies " in 
 their testimonies, quoting much from the Bible. 
 
 During the war he served his country as a sol- 
 dier, and after it was over, became President of 
 the Young Men's Christian Association at New- 
 castle, Pa., which was then his home. While 
 filling this position Mr. Moody met him at a 
 Young Men's Christian Association Convention, 
 and, being greatly impressed by his way of sing- 
 ing sacred songs, earnestly invited him to come 
 to Chicago to " sing the Gospel " there as an 
 evangelistic work. After prayerful considera- 
 tion of the matter Mr. Sankey gave up his busi- 
 ness and entered upon the evangelistic labors in 
 which he has been so useful since that time. 
 
 Not long after Mr. Sankey began his work in 
 Chicago, Mr. Moody's church with which he was 
 laboring, was burned. The people, however, 
 were held together by Mr. Sankey's earnest 
 efforts joined with those of Mr. Moody. 
 
 It was at this time that Mr. Sankey received 
 
APPENDIX. 131 
 
 his greatest incentive to his Christian work 
 through the conversion of a child by the influ- 
 ence of the song, — 
 
 " Jesus loves even me." 
 
 at one of his singing meetings in the temporary 
 tabernacle. The incident is given in another 
 place among those connected with the song 
 above mentioned. 
 
 Soon after the fire Mr. Sankey went with Mr. 
 Moody to England for evangelistic work. The 
 blessing which attended Mr. Sankey's singing is 
 sufficiently noted in the introductory letter to 
 this volume by Mr. Pentecost, who was himself 
 amid the scenes he describes. The Daily JEdin- 
 lurgh Review gave the following editorial in re- 
 gard to the power of sacred song as Mr. Sankey 
 used it in Scotland : 
 
 " The power of music over the mind and soul 
 has been described and illustrated with encyclo- 
 paedic fullness. Fletcher, of Saltoun, put it in a 
 forcible aphorism which will never be forgotten : 
 6 Let me make the songs of a country, and let 
 who will make the laws.' Wharton boasted that 
 he had overturned an ancient dynasty by a song 
 — the famous Lillibulero. Whitefield protested 
 
132 APPENDIX. 
 
 that it was not to be borne that the devil should 
 have all the best tunes. Luther promoted the 
 Reformation as much by his favorite psalms and 
 hymns as by his preaching ; and our own Scot- 
 tish forefathers made a notable, if not altogether 
 successful attempt to wean the population from 
 the ribald ballads of the sixteenth century, by 
 substituting 'gude and godly ballats,' to the 
 same melodies, and, as far as might be, adopting 
 the same words. 
 
 " Yet we have hardly wakened up in Scotland 
 to a sense of the importance of sacred music, 
 notwithstanding all the efforts made during the 
 past twenty or thirty years. In a good many 
 Presbyterian congregations the psalmody is still 
 treated as a bit of convenient padding to be laid 
 between the more important exercises of wor- 
 ship. The minister gives out four verses, some- 
 times only three, and sometimes only two ; and 
 by getting up to preach or to pray, or by looking 
 up his text or his MSS during the singing, shows 
 that he has not got his mind in that part of the 
 proceedings. And should the sermon be of more 
 than the average duration, an attempt is made 
 to recover the lost time by shortening the sing- 
 
APPENDIX. 133 
 
 ing. Any prejudice there may be against ' sing- 
 ing the Gospel ' will thaw and resolve itself into 
 a pleasant dew as soon as he opens his mouth. 
 
 " Why should there be any prejudice ? For 
 generations most of the Highland ministers, and 
 some of the Lowland ministers, too, have sung 
 the Gospel — sung their sermons, aye, and sung 
 their prayers, too. The only difference is that 
 they sing very badly, and Mr. Sankey very beau- 
 tifully. He accompanied himself on the ' Amer- 
 ican Organ,' it is true, and some of us who be- 
 long to the old school can't swallow the ' kist of 
 whustles ' yet. It may help us over this stum- 
 bling-block if we consider that with the finest 
 voice and ear in the world nobody could main- 
 tain the proper pitch of a melody, singing so long 
 as Mr. Sankey does. And then the American 
 Organ is ' only a little one.' When a deputation 
 from the session waited on Ralph Erskine, to re- 
 monstrate with him on the enormity of fiddling, 
 he gave them a beautiful tune on the violincello, 
 and they were so charmed that they returned to 
 their constituents with the report that it was all 
 right — 'it wasna' the wee sinfu' fiddle ' that 
 their minister operated upon, but a grand instru- 
 
134 APPENDIX. 
 
 merit, full of grave sweet melody. I'm afraid 
 some good, true blue Presbyterians will be 
 excusing Mr. Sankey's organ, and themselves 
 for listening to it, by some such plea as 
 that." 
 
 After " singing the Gospel " in many of the 
 largest cities of England, Scotland and Ireland, 
 Mr. Sankey has returned to our own country 
 again, and has achieved " song victories " on our 
 own shores equal to those which God awarded to 
 him in other lands. We shall close this brief 
 sketch of a career which we trust will long con- 
 tinue, by quoting an editorial from * The Inter- 
 Ocean " of Chicago in regard to " Mr. Sankey's 
 Musical Oratoiy " : 
 
 " People are not agreed as to what rank Mr. 
 Sankey shall take as a singer, but they are 
 agreed as to the point that he is just the man to 
 join Mr. Moody in his great work. The methods 
 of the two men are dissimilar, and they appear 
 on the platform in marked contrast. Mr. Moody 
 seizes a crowd at any moment, whether it be 
 noisy or quiet, and asserts his authority. 
 
 " He never stands on ceremony, but grapples 
 with the giant at once, and with a supreme con- 
 
APPENDIX. 135 
 
 sciousness that he will not lose his grip proceeds 
 to the business in hand. Mr. Sankey, on the 
 other hand, approaches a great crowd with al- 
 most womanly gentleness. He touches the keys 
 of the organ with soft reverence. He waits till 
 the Tabernacle is so quiet that you can hear a 
 pin drop ; he leans forward to say a few words 
 in an appealing, musical tone, as though he 
 wanted to be sure that the people were all in re- 
 sponsive mood, and then he takes possession and 
 carries the crowd with him. His singing is a 
 sort of musical oratory, and it affects or influen- 
 ces people as an oratorical performance rather 
 than a musical one. That is to say, Mr. Sankey 
 touches the same chords, arouses the same feel- 
 ings, appeals to the same emotions that would 
 be struck or aroused by a persuasive speaker, 
 and he sways an audience precisely as it would 
 be surged by a man of rare eloquence. 
 
 " If there be arts in his manner, they are of 
 the orator, rather than of the musician. His 
 sentences come to the audience clean cut and 
 ringing with melody. The sentiment lives in 
 the lines and in the tone as well as in the music. 
 He sings as one in earnest, as one whose heart is 
 
136 APPENDIX. 
 
 full of the sentiment of his song, as one anxious 
 to express all the tenderest and liveliest feelings 
 of the human heart. 
 
 "Mr. Moody steps on the platform like a 
 blacksmith approaching his forge. He makes no 
 concessions to circumstances, and is not influ- 
 enced by unfavorable conditions. 
 
 44 Mr. Sankey, on the contrary, commences 
 work when the doors are closed. He under- 
 stands his mission as well as Mr. Moody under- 
 stands his, and so works with the same great re- 
 sults. He has studied men and women to good 
 purpose, and in choice of subject, in manner of 
 introduction, and style of execution he shows 
 the results of this study. Musicians may not be 
 charmed ; he is not singing so much for them 
 as for the men and women with troubled hearts; 
 for men and women perplexed and tired ; for 
 men and women who have hearts and heart- 
 aches, as well as ears. He sings now for the 
 mother, now for the father, and again for all. 
 He never makes a mistake. He never promises 
 more than he accomplishes. He never ventures 
 to approach a crowd until it is in the right 
 mood, and he never leaves it until every heart is 
 
APPENDIX. 137 
 
 throbbing responsively. In studying Mr. Moody 
 we are driven forward to the contemplation of 
 the results of his work. In studying Mr. San- 
 key, we linger over the sweet voice, the trem- 
 bling tones, the tender words. Mr. Moody 
 startles us and arouses us, while Mr. Sankey 
 soothes and comforts. Mr. Moody, earnest as 
 he is, succeeds without the grace of voice and 
 manner. Mr. Sankey, earnest as he is, succeeds 
 because of grace in voice and manner. He is 
 well fitted to be Mr. Moody's companion, and 
 those who hear him do not wonder at his con- 
 tinued success in this peculiar field." 
 
SAFE WITH THE MASTER. 
 
 Where is now our loved one? 
 
 WTiere, O where? 
 Not where the living weary, 
 Not where the dying moan ; 
 Not where the day is dreary, 
 Not where the night is lone. 
 Not in a home of weeping, 
 Not in a darkened room, 
 Not in a graveyard sleeping 
 Not in a silent tomb. 
 
 "Where is now our loved one ? 
 
 Where, O where? 
 Safe in a land immortal, 
 Safe in a country rare, 
 Safe in a heavenly portal 
 Safe in a mansion fair. 
 Safe with the joys supernal, 
 Safe with the blest to bow, 
 Safe with the Love Eternal, 
 Safe with the Master now. 
 
 From " The Prize." Copyrighted. 
 
 By P. P. Bliss 
 
 138 
 
/? y°/^u^ 
 
 Page 139 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 
 P. P. BLISS. 
 
 BY. MRS. W. F. CRAFTS. 
 [Sara J, Timanus.] 
 
 Friday, Dec. 29, 1876, was the last day that 
 dawned upon the earthly life of " The sweet 
 singer of Israel," P. P. Bliss. On the day pre- 
 vious Mr. Bliss and his wife left their moth- 
 er's home, Rome, Pa., where they had been mak- 
 ing a Christmas visit, and started for Chicago, 
 when Mr. Bliss and Major D. W. Whittle were 
 to continue, in the great Tabernacle, the evan- 
 gelistic work begun by Moody and Sankey. As 
 he rode he busied himself with Bible and paper, 
 composing a new song which perished with him. 
 
 When within about twelve hours ride of Chi- 
 cago, the train on which they were traveling 
 was wrecked by the fearful " Ashtabula disas- 
 ter," words that will ring like a funeral knell in 
 many lives for years to come. By the giving 
 
 139 
 
140 APPENDIX. 
 
 way of the bridge which spanned the Ashtabula 
 River the whole train was precipicated into the 
 ice-bound stream below. The cars were soon 
 in flames, and the devastating elements of fire 
 and water, adding their fury to the wild storm 
 that was raging at the time, rendered the scene 
 one of untold horror. The only circumstance 
 connected with the death of Mr. and Mrs. Bliss 
 that can be ascertained is that Mr. Bliss, after 
 escaping out of a window of a car was burned to 
 death on going back to rescue his wife. 
 
 At the meeting held in memory of Mr. Bliss 
 in Chicago on the following Sunday, the fact 
 was recalled with a sad interest that the last 
 time he had sung in the Moody and Sankey 
 meetings he had said, " I don't know as I shall 
 ever sing here again, but I want to sing this as 
 the language of my heart," and then had sung 
 that song of his : 
 
 " I know not the hour my Lord will come 
 
 To take me away to his own dear home, 
 
 But I know that his presence will lighten the gloom, 
 
 And that will be glory for me." 
 
 At the time of his death Mr. Bliss was in the 
 
APPENDIX. 141 
 
 very prime and vigor of manhood, being thirty- 
 eight years of age. 
 
 His boyhood and early manhood were spent in 
 northwest Pennsylvania. 
 
 In the year 1864, Mr. George F. Root of Chi- 
 cago, the well-known music publisher, learning 
 of his musical ability — both as a composer and 
 leader, engaged his services. Mr. Bliss then re- 
 moved to Chicago, and for nearly ten years went 
 out into different parts of the West to conduct 
 Normal Musical Institutes. He was also en- 
 gaged during this time in composing Sunday- 
 school music, the first of which appeared in 1870 
 in a book edited and published by Mr. George 
 F. Root, entitled, " The Prize." 
 
 These were days of beginnings and of trials in 
 the life of Mr. Bliss and his wife. Yet they 
 styled their humble home " The Kot o' Kon- 
 tent " and gave a cheery welcome to the friends 
 who visited them. 
 
 In 1871 Mr. Bliss' first book, « The Charm," 
 appeared and at once gave him a place among 
 the favorite composers of Sundayrschool music. 
 About this time he was elected to the position 
 of chorister in the First Congregational Church 
 
142 APPENDIX. 
 
 of Chicago (Rev. Dr. Goodwin's), of which he 
 had become a member, on coming to Chicago, 
 having previously been a Methodist. He was 
 also chosen superintendent of the large Sunday- 
 school of that church, very many of whose mem- 
 bers were led to Christ by his influence. Fre- 
 quent demands were now made upon him to sing 
 at dedications, anniversaries and Sunday-school 
 gatherings. On these occasions he gave his ser- 
 vices whenever time would permit. His Nor- 
 mal Musical work still continued and in 1872 he 
 published a collection of new songs, duets, trios 
 and quartets, entitled " The Song Tree." The 
 design of the book is beautifully expressed in the 
 following acrostic preface : 
 
 " Sing away dreariness, 
 
 Tree of my love; 
 Oh, and to weariness 
 
 Rest may' st thou prove: 
 Nobly endeaver the 
 
 Erring to win 
 Guarding forever from 
 
 Evil and sin. ,, 
 
 Subsequently appeared " Sunshine," a book for 
 Sunday-schools and " The Joy," for classes, 
 choirs and conventions. 
 
APPENDIX. 143 
 
 Mr. Bliss at length resigned his position as 
 chorister and his work as a musical leader, with 
 much pecuniary sacrifice, in order to give him- 
 self wholly to evangelistic work. In a letter to 
 a friend dated " May 13, 1874," when he was 
 just starting to a Musical Institute, he says : 
 
 " Do you know Brother Moody, Whittle, and 
 others are after me to sing Gospel hymns in 
 evangelistic work. Shall I ? Where can I ac- 
 complish most ? Pray that I may make no mis- 
 take." 
 
 He decided to go into this work, and two 
 months later wrote to the same friend : 
 
 " Major Whittle and I are holding protracted 
 meetings. God is wonderfully using us in every 
 way. Help us to praise him for it. I am pre- 
 paring a book of " Gospel Songs " for our special 
 use, and would be right glad to have you send a 
 list of hymns and tunes which have been most 
 successful in your experience. And above all, 
 pray for the book. All the good in the book 
 must come from God." 
 
 This book, " Gospel Songs," was published in 
 1874 with the following acrostic preface which 
 truly represents its deep spiritual purpose : 
 
144 APPENDIX. 
 
 " God so loved the world that he gave his 
 Only begotten 
 Son, that whosoever believeth on him should 
 
 not 
 Perish, but have 
 Kverlasting 
 Life." 
 
 "Serve the Lord with gladness; come before 
 his presence with thanksgiving. 
 
 O Lord, open thou my lips and my mouth shall 
 show forth thy praise. 
 
 Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto 
 thy name, give glory. 
 
 Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised. 
 Sing unto the Lord, bless his name, show forth 
 his salvation from day to day. 
 
 Since July 1874 Mr. Bliss has been engaged 
 earnestly and almost constantly in evangelistic 
 work in connection with Major Whittle. The 
 following slip which has sometimes been distrib- 
 uted as an invitation to their meetings shows 
 how they shared the work : 
 
APPENDIX. 145 
 
 WEEK OF PRAYER. 
 
 MAJOR WHITTLE 
 
 "WILX, PBEACH THE GOSPEL, 
 
 AND 
 
 P. P. BLISS 
 
 •Wllili SHETO- TEZE GOSPEL, 
 
 this Wednesday Evening, Jan. 6th 9 
 AT UNION PARK CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, 
 
 ASHLAND AVENUE, OPPOSITE PARK. 
 SEATS FREE. ALL INVITED. 
 
 FURTHER APPOINTMENT. 
 
 " He hath appointed a day in the which He will 
 judge the world in righteousness by that Man ( Jesus 
 Christ ) whom He hath ordained ; whereof He hath 
 given assurance unto all men in that He hath raised 
 Him from the dead." — Acts. 17: 31. 
 
 Friend, are you ready to meet this appointment ? There can 
 be no postponement. 
 
146 APPENDIX. 
 
 Mr. Bliss held these evangelistic meetings in 
 company with Major Whittle, at Mobile, At- 
 lanta, Nashville, Louisville, Chicago, Peoria, 
 Kalamazoo, Jackson, and many other places, and 
 always with.great success. 
 
 Mr. Bliss sang as earnest ministers preach, not 
 for artistic effects but to express and impress the 
 Gospel. In his singing he was putting in prac- 
 tice what he so often exhorted upon others in his 
 song: 
 
 " Let the lower lights be burning, 
 
 Send a gleam across the wave ; 
 Some poor fainting, struggling seaman 
 
 You may rescue, you may save/' 
 
 His songs in these " Gospel meetings " were 
 frequently prefaced with a short and earnest 
 prayer by himself or by the reading or repeating 
 of Scripture passages in the audience. 
 
 The following brief remarks, made by Mr. 
 Bliss at " The Sunday-school Parliament," on 
 Wellesley Island in the St. Lawrence River, dur- 
 ing the summer of 1876, show his high estimate 
 of sacred music : 
 
 " That which ought to have the greatest em- 
 phasis just now in regard to sacred music is the 
 
APPE1SDIX. 147 
 
 need of greater reverence. While a song is be- 
 ing sung, people will pass up a church aisle or a 
 Sunday-school aisle, whisper to each other, move 
 about the room, distribute or collect library 
 books, put on overcoats, or do a score of other 
 things that one would never think of doing during 
 any other kind of prayer. When we are offering 
 praise or prayer to God in metre, as much as if 
 we were doing it upon our knees, a reverence of 
 manner and spirit should accompany it. Another 
 thing to be enforced in connection with sing- 
 ing is a greater thoughtfulness in regard to the 
 meaning of what we sing. Are the words prayer ? 
 Or praise ? Let appropriate thought as well as 
 appropriate melody accompany the words." 
 
 Mr. Bliss is known even more widely as a 
 composer of sacred song than as a singer, being 
 the author of both words and music of the fol- 
 lowing popular songs : " Jesus loves even me," 
 "Almost persuaded," "Hold the fort," "Pull 
 for the shore," " What shall the harvest be ? " 
 "More to follow," "Hallelujah, 'tis done," 
 " Free from the law," " Let the lower lights be 
 burning," " Whosoever heareth," and " Only an 
 armor-bearer," 
 
148 APPENDIX. 
 
 In all these and his other hymns Mr. Bliss 
 showed a remarkable skill in versifying evangel- 
 ical doctrine in the very phrases of Scripture. 
 
 Mr. Bliss composed with the greatest ease and 
 his music was mostly bright and cheerful. When 
 Haydn was asked, " why his music was so glad- 
 some," he replied, " I can't make any other. I 
 write as I feel. When I think of God my heart 
 is so full of joy that the words dance and leap 
 from my pen." The same might he said of Mr. 
 Bliss and his music, for he was in perfect har- 
 mony with God and his work. 
 
 The titles of his books " Sunshine " and " Joy" 
 epitomize the author as a Christian and a com- 
 poser. Indeed his own name, " Bliss " would 
 fulfill George MacDonald's idea of a true name 
 when he says : 
 
 " A name of the ordinary kind in this world 
 has nothing essential in it. It is but a label by 
 which a man and a scrap of history may be 
 known from another man and his scrap of his- 
 tory. The true name is one 'which expresses 
 the character, the nature, the being, the meaning 
 of the person who bears it. To whom is this 
 name given ? 4 To him that overcometh.' " 
 
APPENDIX. 149 
 
 No element of pride entered into Mr. Bliss' 
 estimate of his work. A friend wrote him a let- 
 ter quoting somewhat from " Waiting and watch 
 ing for me." The reply came back, " No, I 
 don't seem to rest much in the hope of seeing a 
 throng of heavenly ones waiting and watching 
 for me. They might be in better business. 
 Nor of hearing echoes of my songs there. I 
 want something better. The best things about 
 heaven, seems to me, will be eternal freedom 
 from sin, and Jesus' immediate presence. 
 
 * There we shall see His face 
 And never, never sin.' " 
 
 His prayer in song expresses the humility and 
 also the spiritual aspiration of his heart : 
 
 " More purity give me, 
 More strength to o'ercome, 
 More freedom from earth-stains, 
 More longings for home; 
 More fit for the kingdom, 
 More used would I be, 
 More blessed and holy 
 More, Saviour, like thee." 
 
 As to personal appearance Mr. Bliss is thus 
 pictured by one who knew him well : 
 
 " He was tall and well-developed in his phy- 
 
150 APPENDIX, 
 
 sical frame, with clustering black hair and a 
 handsome face, possessing easy and polished 
 manners and a very joyous temperament, to- 
 gether with a wealth of sympathy." 
 
 Perhaps the most notable traits in Mr. Bliss' 
 character were his " rock-firm God-trust " and 
 his cheerful self-sacrifice. 
 
 After the great fire in Chicago he wrote : 
 
 " I think God is bringing great good out of 
 this seeming evil. Unite your prayer daily with 
 ours that 4 after the fire the still, small voice may 
 be heard and that the Spirit may be poured out 
 in this city." 
 
 He wrote a song of comfort to cheer those 
 who had suffered by the fire, and sang it with 
 his grand voice here and there through the city 
 itself and afterwards in a tour with Mr. Moody 
 raising a relief fund. We give two verses of the 
 song below : 
 
 " 3. Thousands are homeless, and quick to their cry 
 Heaven-born charity yields a supply, 
 Upward we glance in our terrible grief, 
 1 Give us this day ' brings the promised relief. 
 
 H 4. Treasures have vanished and riches have flown, 
 Hopes for the earth-life are blasted and gone, 
 
APPENDIX. 151 
 
 Courage, O brother, yield not to despair, 
 'God is our refuge,' his kingdom we share." 
 
 Chorus, 
 " Roll on, roll on, O billow of fire! 
 Dash with thy fury waves higher and higher 
 Ours is a mansion abiding and sure, 
 Ours is a kingdom eternal, secure." 
 
 During the sessions of a Sunday-school camp 
 meeting in which he was the musical leader 
 there came up a very sudden and severe gale, 
 rending and throwing to earth the pavilion tent 
 which but an hour previous had been occupied 
 by several hundred persons. Providentially the 
 gale occurred at the noon hour when but few 
 were under it and all these escaped unharmed. 
 
 " Is any one killed or hurt?" was Mr. Bliss* 
 first question. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Thank God ! We must have a praise meet- 
 ing." 
 
 Soon after, at the opening of the afternoon 
 session, with tearful eyes and beaming face he 
 led the great congregation in singing : 
 
 " Praise God from whom all blessings flow." 
 
 Perhaps the most complete evidence of Mr. 
 
152 APPENDIX. 
 
 Bliss' trust in God was his actual dependence 
 upon liim for daily bread. 
 
 In the summer of 1876 a friend congratulated 
 Mrs. Bliss that the immense sale of " Gospel 
 Hymns and Sacred Songs " must have given 
 them at least ten thousand dollars to pay down 
 toward a home. She replied, " Mr. Bliss has 
 not ten dollars to pay down on a home. Since 
 January we have been living from day to daj^, 
 doing the Lord's work with our might and de- 
 pending upon what he sends us. Although the 
 illness of our children has greatly increased our 
 expenses beyond other j^ears God has sent us 
 enough to supply our needs." 
 
 Many are not aware that Mr. Bliss, as well as 
 Mr. Sankey, gave up the royalty upon the " Bliss 
 and Sankey Song Book," ( not " The Moodj^ and 
 Sankey Song Book," as it is sometimes thought- 
 lessly called ) and thus sacrificed about thirty 
 thousand dollars, putting the royalty into the 
 hands of Mr. George H. Stuart, Mr. W. E. 
 Dodge, Jr., and Mr. John V. Farwell, to use it 
 for charitable and evangelistic purposes. " Gos- 
 pel Hymns No. 2," which Mr. Bliss with Mr. San- 
 key had just completed when he was killed, was 
 
APPENDIX. 153 
 
 sent forth under the same self-sacrificing and 
 benevolent arrangement on the part of the au- 
 thors. 
 
 Mr. Moody recently urged Mr. Bliss to take 
 at least five thousand dollars of the royalty for 
 himself and family, saying that he needed it, but 
 he would not take a dollar. It must all go for 
 the Lord's work. 
 
 It was sufficient reward to him that the songs 
 he had composed were proclaiming the Gospel 
 round the world, being sung not only in Europe, 
 but also in Africa and Asia. I recently heard 
 "Hold the Fort" in Swedish. A missionary 
 letter from Africa reports the singing of it there 
 in the Zulu language, and the Bliss and Sankey 
 collection has also been translated and published 
 (in part) in China, in the native tongue. In 
 India also singing evangelists are using these 
 same hymns. 
 
 With the deep God-trust and self-sacrifice Mr. 
 Bliss combined an abounding cheerfulness. His 
 beaming face was a silent psalm assuring the be- 
 holder, " Happy is the man that hath the God of 
 Jacob for his help." 
 
 He wrote to a friend, "Dr. V- is jolly, 
 
154 APPENDIX. 
 
 great and good. Some people are great and 
 good, but can't be jolty. I can't like them quite 
 so well." He wrote out his own heart in that 
 verse of his : 
 
 " No darkness have we who in Jesus abide, 
 
 The Light of the world is Jesus; 
 "We walk in the light when we follow our guide, 
 
 The Light of the world is Jesus." 
 
 He has now realized beyond his utmost dreams 
 on earth the heavenly glory and joy of which he 
 sang in another verse of that same hymn as well 
 as in scores of others : 
 
 " No need of the sunshine in heaven we're told ; 
 
 The Light of that world is Jesus. 
 The Lamb is the light in the City of Gold; 
 
 The Light of that world is Jesus." 
 
 This sketch would be very incomplete with- 
 out some record of Mrs. Bliss, whom her hus- 
 band was pleased to style " My faithful assistant 
 Lou." Mrs. Bliss was herself the composer of 
 several choice pieces of music, both hymns and 
 tunes ; one of them a very beautiful tune to the 
 words of " Rock of Ages," which was impres- 
 sively sung at their funeral services. When- 
 ever circumstances would permit she attended 
 
APPENDIX. 155 
 
 her husband in his public work, aiding him by 
 her voice and by playing accompaniments. It is 
 said that from her he received his first lessons, 
 both in singing and playing. They were indeed 
 of "one accord " in their noble life work. When 
 the sudden summons came she was on the Lord's 
 errand with her husband. 
 
 u Lovely and pleasant in their lives, in their 
 deaths they were not divided." 
 
 Mr. Bliss leaves a widowed mother of whom 
 he was the only son, and two little ones, Paul 
 and George, aged four and two years. Mr. 
 Moody 'asks the people of God to take them in 
 charge with their money and their prayers. 
 He himself has raised ten thousand dollars for 
 their support and education, and other free-will 
 offerings have and will come to them from many 
 a Sunday-school where Mr. Bliss' songs are 
 sung, and prayers will rise from many hearts 
 that God will keep them in his sheltering care. 
 
 The memorial service in honor of these two 
 Christian workers in Chicago was the largest 
 meeting ever held in that city, showing the lov- 
 ing esteem in which he was held. A monument 
 will be erected to Mr. Bliss' memory, as is most 
 
156 APPENDIX. 
 
 befitting, but the most enduring monument of 
 his life will be " the good he has done," and is 
 still doing by his music and his life, — the mon- 
 ument he so often urged others to raise for them- 
 selves, as he sang : 
 
 Fading away, like the stars of the morning, 
 Losing their light in the glorious sun; 
 So let me steal away, gently and lovingly, 
 Only remembered by what I have done. 
 
 So in the harvest, if others may gather 
 Sheaves from the fields that in spring I have sown; 
 Who plowed or sowed matters not to the reaper: 
 I'm only remembered by what I have done. 
 
 Fading away like the stars of the morning, 
 So let my name be unhonored, unknown; 
 Here, or up yonder, I must be remembered, 
 Only remembered by what I have done. 
 
HISTORIC HYMNS. 
 
 Collected by REV. W. F. CRAFTS. 
 
 Music arranged under the supervision of Dr. E. Tourjee* 
 
 A COIXECTION OF 
 
 a hundred popular Standard Hymns, of which incidents 
 are given in " Trophies of Song." A pamphlet of thirty-two 
 pages, in stout covers, which affords 
 
 A CHEAP HYMN BOOK 
 
 for Sunday Schools, Congregational Singing, Praise Meetings, 
 Concerts, Camp Meetings and Special Services. It has 
 doubled the volume of congregational singing in churches, 
 where it has been used, by furnishing the words, at a slight 
 expense, to every person in the congregation. Besides the 
 hymns, " Bible Readings,' ' Responsive Readings, Introduc- 
 tory Responsive Services, &c, &c, are also included. Com- 
 mended by I. D. Sankey, P. P. Bliss, and other prominent 
 siogers' 
 
 Price, in Stout Paper Cover, per 100, - - $7.00. 
 " " Cloth, per 100, ----- 10.00. 
 
 Send ten cents for specimen copy. 
 
 TROPHIES OF SONG. 
 
 By Rev. W. F. Crafts. 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY DR. E. TOURJEE. 
 
 A COMPILATION OF 
 
 200 STRIKING INCIDENTS, 
 
 connected with the origin and history of onr most popular 
 hymns, hoth of the Church and Sunday School, together 
 with articles hy prominent writers on " Praise Meetings,' 9 
 " Congregational Singing," " Sunday School Singing," and 
 all the various uses of sacred music. Its suggestions and in- 
 cidents make it valuable to pastors, superintendents^ and 
 choristers, and its numerous and thrilling incidents give it 
 interest for the general reader and even for children, Pries 
 $1.25. 
 
 D. LOTHBOP & CO., Publishers, 
 
THE NAWIE ABOVE EVERY NAME. In sending forth a 
 
 new and revised edition of this work the Publishers append a few of tb« 
 many favorable notices which, from various sources, testify to its 
 catholicity, and its adaptation to the wants of the disciples of our Lord 
 by whatever denominational name they may be called. 
 The Name abOVe Every Name, or, Devotional Meditations. 
 With a text for every day in the year. By the Rev. Samuel Cutler. 
 This little volume, which is a gem of typography, is just what it claims 
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 The texts are fitly chosen, and the exquisite fragments of sacred poetry 
 
 seem like jewels from a mine of inspiration. None can read this book 
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 if His name be above every name in dignity and glory, it is also, as de- 
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 From the Congregationist. 
 
 The Name above Every Name, it has * chapter for every 
 
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 The Name above Every Name. By the Rev. Samuel 
 
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