The Morning Call

Her father was a lay preacher, and she, a school teacher, followed in his steps. She was in the pulpit on that Sunday morning when an American citizen visited the country of his birth, in the summer of 1946 to observe post-war conditions. He was now amid familiar scenes in the far south of England. The morning was full of glorious sunshine, and he went to church as he had done when a boy. Then he wrote an account of the service, and sent it to his home folks.

What, he wondered, would be the hymn which this “spiritually and mentally disciplined woman” might select for the opening of the service. That question was answered when this preacher-daughter of a preacher-father announced the charming lines of Geoffrey A. Studdert Kennedy:

There the visitor blended his voice with some of those he had known in his boyhood days as they together worshipped in the village church. The preacher stood in the pulpit with the ease of one born to it, and “joined in the singing with the full-voiced enthusiasm of a thrush or mockingbird on a spring morning.”

This song is placed among the morning hymns in The Hymnal of the Protestant Episcopal Church (1940). Imaginative and impressive is the language used in the second verse:

“Woodbine Willie” was the name, for some reason, given to the author when he became a chaplain in World War I. His was a charmed name in the army, and his experiences there “made him an enthusiast for peace.” He became a rector in London, and in 1924 he made a visit to the United States and added many persons to the long list of friends already his. Death came to him in Liverpool in 1929. Someone characterized him as “the wholly lovable prophet of social righteousness.” Through coming years he will continue to speak to the hearts of many who joyfully sing his inspiring morning hymn with its lilting tune.

Morning Hymn on an Ocean Voyage

Time for reflection is found on an ocean voyage, and, as the writer and many others can testify, lasting impressions are often made. Such an experience came to one who was making a trip around the world in the days between two world wars. “The sea,” said he, “was not a friend of mine as we rode the mountainous waves for nearly three weeks without a port of call.” Much of the time, indeed, he lay in his cabin simply watching the rising and the falling of the waves through the porthole.

A Sunday morning, however, dawned fair and bright; and he found himself “able to make his way to the top deck for divine worship.” Never, he confessed, was he more deeply touched by a hymn than when the company of passengers, and some members of the crew, united in singing as their opening hymn:

The memory of that hymn proved to be cheering and invigorating. He later wrote: “How beautiful this sunny Sunday morning with no land, or fish, or bird in sight. Just the sun, the sky, and the sea. How sacred the upper deck seemed that morning! Can you not believe that I never hear this hymn sung without again feeling the waves lifting me, the scene crowding my brain with its poignancy—sea, sky, sun, and God’s care through another night on the ocean waves.”

A brilliant scholar was John Keble, author of “The Christian Year,” from which this hymn comes. It is regarded as one “of the greatest religious classics in the English language.” This tribute has been paid to this work by Nutter and Tillett: “What the Prayer Book is in prose for public worship, ‘The Christian Year’ is in poetry for private devotion.” Mentally suggestive are the lines which have such a direct relation to daily living:

“New mercies, each returning day,

Hover around us while we pray;

New perils past, new sins forgiven,

New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven.”