ENGLAND’S FIRST WOMAN HYMNIST

While Isaac Watts was working on his immortal version of “Psalms of David,” a baby girl was born to a Baptist minister at Broughton, fifteen miles away. The baby was Anne Steele, destined to become England’s first woman hymn-writer. This was in 1716.

Her father, who was a merchant as well as a minister, served the church at Broughton for sixty years, the greater part without pay. The mother died when Anne was only a babe of three years. From childhood the future hymnist was delicate in health, and in 1735 she suffered a hip injury which made her practically an invalid for life.

The hardest blow, however, came in 1737, when her lover, Robert Elscourt, was drowned on the day before he and Anne were to have been married. The grief-stricken young woman with heroic faith nevertheless rose above her afflictions and found solace in sacred song. It is believed that her first hymn, a poem of beautiful resignation, was written at this time:

That the Lord heard her prayer may be attested by the fact that she became the greatest hymn-writer the Baptist Church has produced. Throughout her life she remained unmarried, living with her father and writing noble hymns. In 1760 her first poems appeared in print under the pen name of “Theodosia.” Her father at this time makes the following notation in his diary: “This day Nanny sent part of her composition to London to be printed. I entreat a gracious God, who enabled and stirred her up to such a work, to direct it and bless it for the good of many. I pray God to make it useful, and keep her humble.” The book proved immensely popular, and the author devoted the profits from its sale to charity.

Miss Steele is the author of 144 hymns and 34 paraphrases of the Psalms. That many of them breathe a spirit of melancholy sadness is not to be wondered at, when we consider the circumstances under which they were written. Although they do not rise to great poetic heights, their language is so artless and simple they seem to sing their way into the heart of the worshiper. When Trinity Episcopal Church of Boston, in 1808, printed its own hymn-book of 151 hymns, fifty-nine of them, or more than one-third, were selected from Miss Steele’s compositions. The fact that so many of them are still found in the hymnals of today is another testimony of their worth.

Among the more famous hymns from her pen are: “Father of Mercies, in Thy Word,” “How helpless guilty nature lies,” “Dear Refuge of my weary soul,” “O Thou whose tender mercy hears,” “Thou only Sovereign of my heart,” and “Thou lovely source of true delight.”

England’s pioneer woman hymnist fell asleep in November, 1788, her last words being, “I know that my Redeemer liveth.” Her epitaph reads:

The decades during which Miss Steele lived and wrought were remarkable for the number of hymn-writers of her own communion who flourished in England. In addition to Miss Steele, the Baptist Church produced such hymnists as Samuel Medley, Samuel Stennett and John Fawcett. Benjamin Beddome also was a prolific writer of this period, but his hymns are not of a high order.

Medley lived a dissipated life in the navy until he was severely wounded in battle in 1759. The reading of a sermon led to his conversion, and he later became pastor of a Baptist congregation in Liverpool. His most famous hymns are “O could I speak the matchless worth” and “Awake, my soul, to joyful lays.” Stennett in 1757 succeeded his father as pastor of a Baptist church in London, where he gained fame as a preacher. His best hymns are “Majestic sweetness sits enthroned” and “’Tis finished, so the Saviour cried.” Fawcett was minister of an humble Baptist congregation in Wainsgate when, in 1772, he received a call to a large London church. He preached his farewell sermon and had loaded his household goods on wagons, when the tears of his parishioners constrained him to remain. A few days later he wrote the tender lyric, “Blest be the tie that binds.” Among his other hymns are “How precious is the Book divine” and “Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing.”

A SLAVE-TRADER WHO WROTE CHRISTIAN LYRICS

In one of England’s famous old churches there is a tablet marking the last resting-place of one of its rectors, and on the tablet this epitaph:

“John Newton, clerk, once an Infidel and Libertine, a servant of slavers in Africa, was, by the rich Mercy of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the Faith he had long labored to destroy.”

This inscription, written by Newton himself before his death, tells the strange story of the life of the man who wrote “How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds,” and scores of other beautiful hymns.

Newton was born in London, July 24, 1725. His father was a sea captain. His mother, a deeply pious woman, though frail in health, found her greatest joy in teaching her boy Scripture passages and hymns. When he was only four years old he was able to read the Catechism.

The faithful mother often expressed the hope to her son that he might become a minister. However, when the lad was only seven years of age, the mother died, and he was left to shift largely for himself. On his 11th birthday he joined his father at sea, and made five voyages to the Mediterranean. Through the influence of evil companions and the reading of infidel literature, he began to live a godless and abandoned life.

Being pressed into the navy when a war seemed imminent, young Newton deserted. He was captured, however, and flogged at the mast, after which he was degraded.

At this point his life teems with reckless adventures and strange escapes. Falling into the hands of an unscrupulous slave-dealer in Africa, he himself was reduced practically to the abject condition of a slave. In his misery he gave himself up to nameless sins. The memory of his mother, however, and the religious truths which she had implanted in his soul as a child gave his conscience no peace.

The reading of “The Imitation of Christ,” by Thomas À Kempis, also exerted a profound influence over him, and a terrifying experience in a storm at sea, together with his deliverance from a malignant fever in Africa, served to bring the prodigal as a penitent to the throne of mercy.

After six years as the captain of a slaveship, during which time Newton passed through many severe struggles in trying to find peace with God through the observance of a strict moral life, he met on his last voyage a pious captain who helped to bring him to a truer and deeper faith in Christ.

For nine years at Liverpool he was closely associated with Whitefield and the Wesleys, studying the Scriptures in Hebrew and Greek, and occasionally preaching at religious gatherings of the dissenters. In 1764 he was ordained as curate of Olney, where he formed the famous friendship with the poet William Cowper that gave to the world so many beautiful hymns.

It was at Newton’s suggestion that the two undertook to write a hymn-book. The famous collection known as “The Olney Hymns,” was the result of this endeavor. Of the 349 hymns in this book, Cowper is credited with sixty-six, while Newton wrote the remainder. “How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds” appeared for the first time in this collection. It is a hymn of surpassing tenderness, and ranks among the finest in the English language.

Other notable hymns, by Newton are: “Come, my soul, thy suit prepare,” “Approach, my soul, the mercy-seat,” “While with ceaseless course the sun,” “One there is above all others,” “For a season called to part,” “Safely through another week,” “On what has now been sown,” “May the grace of Christ our Saviour,” “Though troubles assail us, and dangers affright,” “Day of judgment, day of wonders,” and “Glorious things of thee are spoken.”

Newton’s life came to a close in London in 1807, after he had served for twenty-eight years as rector of St. Mary Woolnoth. Among his converts were numbered Claudius Buchanan, missionary to the East Indies, and Thomas Scott, the Bible commentator. In 1805, when his eyesight began to fail and he could no longer read his text, his friends advised him to cease preaching. His answer was: “What! shall the old African blasphemer stop while he can speak?”

When he was nearly eighty years old it was necessary for a helper to stand in the pulpit to help him read his manuscript sermons. One Sunday Newton had twice read the words, “Jesus Christ is precious.” “You have already said that twice,” whispered his helper; “go on.” “John,” said Newton, turning to his assistant in the pulpit, “I said that twice, and I am going to say it again.” Then the rafters rang as the old preacher shouted, “Jesus Christ is precious!” Newton’s whole life may be said to be summed up in the words of one of his appealing hymns:

AN AFFLICTED POET WHO GLORIFIED GOD

Paul once wrote to the Corinthians: “God chose the weak things of the world, that he might put to shame the things that are strong.”

In a very special sense this truth was exemplified in the life of the poet William Cowper. If God ever made use of a frail instrument through which to glorify Himself, He did it in this man. Feeble in health from childhood, with a sensitive, high-strung mind that ever was on the point of breaking, he still worked and wrought in such a way that his sad and feverish life certainly was not lived in vain.

Cowper was born at Great Berkhamstead, England, in 1731. His father was an English clergyman. His mother died when the child was only six years old. Even as a youth, he was distressed by frequent mental attacks. He once wrote pathetically: “The meshes of that fine network, the brain, are composed of such mere spinner’s threads in me that when a long thought finds its way into them it buzzes, and twangs, and bustles about at such a rate as seems to threaten the whole contexture.”

In the previous sketch we related how the famous friendship between the poet and John Newton led to the joint publication of “The Olney Hymns.” Newton’s idea in suggesting this project was not merely “to perpetuate the remembrance of an intimate and endeared friendship,” as he states in the preface of the noted collection, but also to occupy Cowper’s mind, which already had given signs of approaching madness.

In 1773, two years after the two friends had begun “The Olney Hymns,” Cowper passed through a mental crisis that almost ended in tragedy. Obsessed with the idea that it was the divine will that he should offer up his life by drowning himself in the Ouse river, the afflicted poet ordered a post chaise, and instructed the driver to proceed to a certain spot near Olney, where he planned to leap into the river. When he reached the place, Cowper was diverted from his purpose when he found a man seated at the exact place where he had intended to end his life. Returning home, he is said to have thrown himself on his knife, but the blade broke. His next attempt was to hang himself, but the rope parted.

After his recovery from this dreadful experience, he was so impressed by the realization of God’s overruling providence that he was led to write the hymn, “God moves in a mysterious way.” It is regarded by many critics as the finest hymn ever written on the theme of God’s providence. James T. Fields declares that to be the author of such a hymn is an achievement that “angels themselves might envy.”

That God had a purpose in sparing the life of the sorely tried man is made clear when we learn that Cowper lived for twenty-seven years after passing through this crisis. Although he continued to experience some distressing periods, it was during these years that he wrote some of his most beautiful hymns. Among these are “O for a closer walk with God,” “Sometimes a light surprises,” “Jesus, where’er Thy people meet,” “In holy contemplation,” and “There is a fountain filled with blood.”

The latter hymn has often been criticized because of its strong figurative language. The expression, “a fountain filled with blood,” has proved so offensive to modern taste that many hymn-books have omitted this touching hymn. Dr. Ray Palmer, writer of “My faith looks up to Thee,” opposed these views vigorously. He once wrote:

“Such criticism seems to us superficial. It takes the words as if they were intended to be a literal prosaic statement. It forgets that what they express is not only poetry, but the poetry of intense and impassioned feeling, which naturally embodies itself in the boldest metaphors. The inner sense of the soul, when its deepest affections are moved, infallibly takes these metaphors in their true significance, while a cold critic of the letter misses that significance entirely. He merely demonstrates his own lack of the spiritual sympathies of which, for fervent Christian hearts, the hymn referred to is an admirable expression.”

Certainly it is a hymn that has spread blessings in its path, and countless are the stories of how it has broken down the resistance of hardened human hearts. One of these tells how a Belfast minister once visited a mill where two hundred girls were employed, many of them from his own congregation. One girl, when she saw her pastor entering, began to sing “There is a fountain filled with blood.” Other girls took up the lines, and soon the glorious song was ringing above the noise of all the looms. The manager, who was an unbeliever, was so moved that he seized his hat and ran from the building. Later he confessed to the minister, “I never was so hard put to it in all my life. It nearly broke me down.”

Cowper also wrote a number of secular poems that achieved great fame. “The Task,” has been called “one of the wisest books ever written, and one of the most charming.” Another poem, “John Gilpin,” is a very happy and mirthful narrative.

Although Cowper’s mother died in his early childhood, he never forgot her. When he was fifty-six years old, a cousin sent him a miniature of his mother. In acknowledging the gift, he wrote: “I had rather possess my mother’s picture than the richest jewel in the British crown; for I loved her with an affection that her death, fifty years since, has not in the least abated.”

Cowper died in 1800. Three years before his death, he lost his lifelong comforter and friend, Mrs. Morley Unwin, who had cared for him with the solicitude of a mother. The sorrow was almost too great for his feeble nature, and he again sank into deepest gloom. At times he thought God had forsaken him. Only at intervals was he able to resume his literary work. His last poem was “The Castaway,” written March 20, 1799. Through all his spiritual and mental depression, however, he was ever submissive to the will of God. But the time of release for this chastened child of God was at hand.

Bishop Moule tells the story of his departure thus: “About half an hour before his death, his face, which had been wearing a sad and hopeless expression, suddenly lighted up with a look of wonder and inexpressible delight. It was as if he saw his Saviour, and as if he realized the blessed fact, ‘I am not shut out of Heaven after all!’ This look of holy surprise and of joyful adoration remained until he had passed away, and even as he lay in his coffin the expression was still there. One who saw him after death wrote that ‘with the composure and calmness of the face, there mingled also a holy surprise.’”

AN IRISH POET AND HIS HYMNS

There are probably few Protestants who, when they have sung “Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish,” have been conscious of the fact that it was written by a Roman Catholic. There is indeed no place where the “communion of saints” becomes so apparent as in the hymn-books of Christendom. The authors of our great hymns have come from practically every Christian communion, proving that in every church group there are souls who are living in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.

Thomas Moore, the author of the hymn mentioned above, is probably better known for his ballads and other poems than for his hymns. Lovers of English lyric poetry will always remember him as the writer of “The last rose of summer,” “Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,” “The harp that once through Tara’s halls,” “Oft in the stilly night,” and a number of other ballads that have lived through the years and have made the name of Thomas Moore famous.

Moore, who was born in Dublin, Ireland, May 28, 1779, was a man of curious make-up. True to his Celtic nature, he possessed a fiery temper that often brought him into embarrassing situations.

Jeffrey, the famous critic, once aroused Moore’s ire by saying unkind things about his poetry. Moore resented this and promptly challenged Jeffrey to a duel. The authorities interfered before any blood was shed. It was then discovered that one of the pistols contained no bullet, whereupon the two men became fast friends.

Moore was one of the few men who ever made a financial success of the business of writing poetry. For “Lalla Rookh” he received $15,000 before a single copy had been sold.

Moore’s hymns, thirty-two in number, first appeared in his volume of “Sacred Songs,” published in 1816. Most of these hymns were written to popular airs of various nations. They have attained greater popularity in America than in Great Britain. One of the most famous of his hymns is “Sound the loud timbrel o’er Egypt’s dark sea.”

Like most men of poetic bent, Moore was a poor financier and business man. At one time he accepted a government position in the revenue service at Bermuda. He did not enjoy his tasks, and so he placed his duties in the hands of a deputy, while he went on a tour of America. The deputy, however, absconded with the proceeds of a ship’s cargo, whereupon Moore found himself liable for the loss of $30,000.

“Come, ye disconsolate” was so changed by Thomas Hastings, the great American hymnist, that it almost became a new hymn. The second line of the first stanza, as Moore originally wrote it, was:

The second line of the second stanza was also changed by Dr. Hastings, the original version by Moore being:

The third line of the second stanza was greatly improved by the American critic. Moore’s line read:

THE HYMN LEGACY OF AN ENGLISH EDITOR

Shortly before James Montgomery died, a friend asked him, “Which of your poems will live?” He answered, “None, sir; nothing, except perhaps a few of my hymns.”

Montgomery was right. Although he wrote a number of pretentious poems, they have been forgotten. But his hymns live on. A perusal of almost any evangelical hymn-book will probably reveal more hymns by this gifted and consecrated man than by any other author, excepting only Isaac Watts and Charles Wesley.

What a rich legacy was bequeathed to the Christian Church by the man who wrote “Hail to the Lord’s Anointed,” “Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,” “Angels, from the realms of glory,” “In the hour of trial,” “Who are these in bright array?” “According to Thy gracious Word,” “Come to Calvary’s holy mountain,” “Forever with the Lord,” “The Lord is my shepherd, no want shall I know,” “Jerusalem, my happy home,” and “Go to dark Gethsemane!” Montgomery wrote about four hundred hymns in all, and nearly one-fourth of these are still in common use.

Montgomery began writing hymns as a little boy. He was born at Irvine, Ayrshire, Scotland, November 4, 1771. His father was a Moravian minister, and it had been determined that the son James should also be trained for the same calling. Accordingly he was sent to the Moravian seminary at Fulneck, Yorkshire, England. The parents, however, were sent to the West Indies as missionaries, and their death there made it necessary for James to discontinue his schooling.

For a while he worked as a clerk in a store, but this was entirely distasteful to one who possessed the literary gifts of Montgomery. At the age of nineteen we find him in London with a few of his poems in manuscript form, trying to find a publisher who would print them. In this he was unsuccessful, and two years later we follow him to Sheffield, where he became associated with Robert Gales, editor of the Sheffield Register.

Gales was a radical, and, because he displeased the authorities by some of his articles, he found it convenient in 1794 to leave England for America. Montgomery, then only twenty-three years old, took over the publication of the paper and changed its name to the Sheffield Iris. Montgomery, however, proved as indiscreet as Gales had been, and during the first two years of his editorship he was twice imprisoned by the government, the first time for publishing a poem in commemoration of “The Fall of Bastille,” and the second time for his account of a riot at Sheffield.

In 1797 he published a volume of poems called “Prison Amusements,” so named from the fact that some of them had been written during his imprisonment. In later years the British government granted him a pension of $1,000 per year in recognition of his achievements and perhaps by way of making amends for the indignity offered him by his two imprisonments.

In Montgomery’s hymns we may hear for the first time the missionary note in English hymnody, reflecting the newly-awakened zeal for the evangelization of the world which had gripped the English people. The Baptist Missionary Society had been organized in 1792; Carey had gone to India as its great apostle; and in 1799 the English Church Missionary Society had been formed.

In the fervor aroused for foreign missions in England we may discern a continuation of the impulses which went forth from the Pietistic movement at Halle, Germany, nearly a century earlier, when Bartholomew Ziegenbalg and Henry PlÜtschau were sent from that cradle of the modern missionary movement as the first missionaries to India. We may also see something of the influences emanating from the great Moravian missionary center at Herrnhut. John Wesley visited both these places before he began his great revival in England, and became deeply imbued with zeal for missions.

Moravian contact with England had resulted in the formation of many Moravian societies, and it was one of these that had sent Montgomery’s parents as missionaries to the West Indies. It was not without reason, therefore, that Montgomery became the first English hymnist to sound the missionary trumpet. He could never forget that his parents had given their lives in bringing the gospel to the wretched blacks of the West Indies. His father’s grave was at Barbadoes and his mother was sleeping on the island of Tobago. And for the same reason, Montgomery was a bitter opponent of slavery.

The first missionary note is heard in Montgomery’s great Advent hymn, “Hail to the Lord’s Anointed,” written in 1821. One of the stanzas not usually found in hymn-books reads:

Two other missionary hymns are “Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass” and “Hark! the song of jubilee.” The latter sweeps along in triumphant measures:

Although “Jerusalem, my happy home!” ranks highest among the hymns of Montgomery, judged by the standard of popular favor, his hymn on prayer and “Forever with the Lord” have aroused the most enthusiasm on the part of literary critics. Julian says of the latter that “it is full of lyric fire and deep feeling,” and Dr. Theodore Cuyler declares that it contains four lines that are as fine as anything in hymnody. This beautiful verse reads:

Montgomery’s last words were words of prayer. After his usual evening devotion on April 30, 1854, he went to sleep, a sleep from which he never woke on earth. And so was fulfilled in his own experience the beautiful thought contained in his glorious hymn on prayer:

HEBER, MISSIONARY BISHOP AND HYMNIST

In the glorious hymns of Reginald Heber, missionary bishop to India, we find not only the noblest expression of the missionary fervor which in his day was stirring the Church, but also the purest poetry in English hymnody. Christians of all ages will gratefully remember the name of the man who wrote the most stirring of all missionary hymns, “From Greenland’s icy mountains,” as well as that sublime hymn of adoration, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty!”

The latter was regarded by Alfred Tennyson as the world’s greatest hymn.

Born April 21, 1783, at Malpas, Cheshire, England, Heber was educated at Oxford, where he formed the friendship of Sir Walter Scott. His gift for writing poetry revealed itself in this period of his life, when he won a prize for a remarkable poem on Palestine. It is said that Heber, who was only seventeen years old at the time, read the poem to Scott at the breakfast table, and that the latter suggested one of the most striking lines.

Following the award of the prize, for which young Heber had been earnestly striving, his parents found him on his knees in grateful prayer.

For sixteen years Heber served in the obscure parish of Hodnet as a minister of the Church of England. It was during this period that all of his hymns were written. He was also engaged in other literary activities that brought him some fame. All this while, however, he nourished a secret longing to go to India. It is said that he would work out imaginary journeys on the map, while he hoped that some day he might become bishop of Calcutta.

His missionary fervor at this time is also reflected in the famous hymn, “From Greenland’s icy mountains,” written in 1819. The allusions to “India’s coral strand” and “Ceylon’s isle” are an indication of the longings that were running through his mind.

His earnest prayer was answered in 1822, when at the age of forty years he was called to the episcopate as bishop of Calcutta. After three years of arduous work in India, the life of the gifted bishop was cut short. During this period he ordained the first native pastor of the Episcopal Church—Christian David.

A man of rare refinement and noble Christian personality, Heber was greatly beloved by all who knew him. “One of the best of English gentlemen,” was the tribute accorded him by Thackeray. It was not until after his death, however, that he leaped into fame through his hymns.

The story of how “From Greenland’s icy mountains” was written reveals something of the poetic genius of Heber. It seems that he was visiting with his father-in-law, Dr. Shipley, vicar and dean of Wrexham, on the Saturday before Whitsunday, 1819. The dean, who was planning to preach a missionary sermon the following morning, asked young Heber to write a missionary hymn that could be sung at the service. The latter immediately withdrew from the circle of friends to another part of the room. After a while the dean asked, “What have you written?” Heber replied by reading the first three stanzas of the hymn. The dean expressed satisfaction, but the poet replied, “No, no, the sense is not complete.” And so he added the fourth verse—“Waft, waft, ye winds, His story”—and the greatest missionary hymn of the ages had been born.

The story of the tune to which the hymn is sung is equally interesting. A Christian woman in Savannah, Georgia, had come into possession of a copy of Heber’s words. The meter was unusual, and she was unable to find music to fit the words. Learning of a young bank clerk who was said to be gifted as a composer, she sent the poem to him. Within a half hour it was returned to her with the beautiful tune, “Missionary Hymn,” to which it is now universally sung. The young bank clerk was none other than Lowell Mason, who afterwards achieved fame as one of America’s greatest hymn-tune composers. The marvel is that both words and music were written almost in a moment—by real inspiration, it would seem.

Bishop Heber’s hymns are characterized chiefly by their lyrical quality. They are unusually rich in imagery. This may be seen particularly in his beautiful Epiphany hymn, “Brightest and best of the sons of the morning.” In some respects the hymns of Heber resemble the later lyrics of Henry Francis Lyte, writer of “Abide with me, fast falls the eventide.” They ring, however, with a much more joyous note than the hymns of Lyte, in which are always heard strains of sadness.

We have already referred to Tennyson’s estimate of Heber’s hymn to the Holy Trinity. It should be observed that this great hymn is one of pure adoration. There is nothing of the element of confession, petition or thanksgiving in it, but only worship. Its exalted language is Scriptural throughout, indeed it is the Word of the Most High. It is doubtful if there is a nobler hymn of its kind in all the realm of hymnody. The tune to which it is always sung, “Nicaea,” was written by the great English composer, Rev. John B. Dykes, and is comparable to the hymn itself in majesty.

Other fine hymns by Heber include “The Son of God goes forth to war,” “God that madest earth and heaven,” “O Thou, whose infant feet were found,” “When through the torn sail,” “Bread of the world in mercy broken,” and “By cool Siloam’s shady rill.”

Altogether Heber wrote fifty-seven hymns, all of which were published in a single collection after his death. It is said that every one of them is still in use, a rare tribute to the genius of this consecrated writer.

Heber’s life was closely paralleled in many respects by another great hymn-writer who lived in the same period. His name was Sir Robert Grant. He was born two years later than the gifted missionary bishop and, like Heber, died in India. Although he did not enter the service of the Church but engaged in secular pursuits, he was a deeply spiritual man and his hymns bear testimony of an earnest, confiding faith in Christ. Between his hymns and those of Heber there is a striking similarity. The language is chaste and exalted. The rhythm is faultless. The lines are chiseled as perfectly as a cameo. The imagery is almost startling in its grandeur. Take, for example, a stanza from his magnificent hymn, “O worship the King”:

There is something beautifully tender in that other hymn of Grant’s in which he reveals childlike trust in Christ:

AN INVALID WHO BLESSED THE WORLD

“Just as I am” will doubtlessly be sung to the end of time, and as often as Christians sing it they will praise God and bless the memory of the woman who wrote it—Charlotte Elliott.

This hymn will have a greater value, too, when we know something of the pain and effort that it cost the writer to produce it. Miss Elliott was one of those afflicted souls who scarcely know what surcease from suffering is. Though she lived to be eighty-two years old, she was never well, and often endured seasons of great physical distress. She could well understand the sacrifice made by one who

Of her own afflictions she once wrote: “He knows, and He alone, what it is, day after day, hour after hour, to fight against bodily feelings of almost overpowering weakness, languor and exhaustion, to resolve not to yield to slothfulness, depression and instability, such as the body causes me to long to indulge, but to rise every morning determined to take for my motto: ‘If a man will come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.’”

But God seemed to have had a purpose in placing a heavy cross upon her. Her very afflictions made her think of other sufferers like herself and made her the better fitted for the work that He had prepared for her—the ministry of comfort and consolation. How beautifully she resigned herself to the will of God may be seen in her words: “God sees, God guides, God guards me. His grace surrounds me, and His voice continually bids me to be happy and holy in His service, just where I am.”

“Just as I am” was written in 1836, and appeared for the first time in the second edition of “The Invalid’s Hymn Book,” which was published that year and to which Miss Elliott had contributed 115 pieces.

The great American evangelist, Dwight L. Moody, once said that this hymn had probably touched more hearts and brought more souls to Christ than any other ever written. Miss Elliott’s own brother, who was a minister in the Church of England, himself wrote:

“In the course of a long ministry, I hope to have been permitted to see some fruit of my labors; but I feel far more has been done by a single hymn of my sister’s.”

It is said that after the death of Miss Elliott, more than a thousand letters were found among her papers, in which the writers expressed their gratitude to her for the help the hymn had brought them.

The secret power of this marvelous hymn must be found in its true evangelical spirit. It sets forth in very simple but gripping words the all-important truth that we are not saved through any merit or worthiness in ourselves, but by the sovereign grace of God through faith in Jesus Christ. It also pictures the utter helplessness and wretchedness of the human soul, and its inability to rise above its own sins; but very lovingly it invites the soul to come to Him “whose blood can cleanse each spot.”

The hymn was born out of the author’s personal spiritual experiences. Though a daughter of the Church, brought up in a pious home, it seems that Miss Elliott had never found true peace with God. Like so many other seeking souls in all ages, she felt that men must do something themselves to win salvation, instead of coming to Christ as helpless sinners and finding complete redemption in Him.

When Dr. Caesar Malan, the noted Swiss preacher of Geneva, came to visit the Elliott home in Brighton, England, in 1822, he soon discovered the cause of her spiritual perplexity, and became a real evangelical guide and counsellor. “You have nothing of merit to bring to God,” he told her. “You must come just as you are, a sinner, to the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.”

Throughout the remainder of her life, Miss Elliott celebrated every year the day on which her friend had led her to Christ, for she considered it to be her spiritual birthday. Although it was fourteen years later that she wrote her immortal hymn, it is apparent that she never forgot the words of Dr. Malan, for they form the very core and essence of it. The inspiration for the hymn came one day when the frail invalid had been left alone at the home of her brother. She was lying on a couch and pondering on the words spoken by Dr. Malan many years before, when suddenly the whole glorious truth of salvation as the free gift of God flashed upon her soul. Then came the heavenly gift. Rising from her couch, she wrote:

Miss Elliott was the author of some 150 hymns. Perhaps her finest, aside from her great masterpiece, is “My God, my Father, while I stray.” By common consent, Miss Elliott is given first place among English women hymn-writers.

HOW HYMNS HELPED BUILD A CHURCH

Many of the classic hymns of the Christian Church have been derived from devotional poems that were never intended as hymns by their writers. This is true of the beautiful morning hymn, “New every morning is the love,” and the equally beautiful evening hymn, “Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear.” Both of these gems in the treasury of hymnody have been taken from one of the most famous devotional books ever written—John Keble’s “The Christian Year.”

Keble was born at Fairford, England, April 25, 1792, the son of a country vicar. The only elementary training he received was at the hands of his gifted father, but at the age of fifteen years he was ready to enter Oxford University. Here he distinguished himself as a brilliant scholar, and at the age of twenty-three he was ordained as a clergyman of the Church of England. He remained as a tutor at Oxford for a number of years, but when his mother died he returned to Fairford to assist his father. Although he received a number of tempting offers at this time, he preferred to labor in this obscure parish, where he might be of help and comfort to his father and his two sisters.

It was not until 1835, when his father died and the home was broken up, that Keble accepted the vicarage of Hursley, another humble and scattered parish, with a population of 1,500 people. He married in the same year, and here he and his devoted wife labored until 1866, when they passed away within six weeks of each other.

A FAMOUS HYMN BY A PROSELYTE OF ROME

When the children of Israel were about to resume the march from Mount Sinai and Moses had received the command to lead the people into the unknown wilderness, we are told in Exodus that Moses hesitated.

“See,” said the great leader, “Thou sayest unto me, ‘Bring up this people’: and Thou hast not let me know whom Thou wilt send with me.” And God answered, “My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest.”

It was this sublime thought of the guiding presence of God that gave to John Henry Newman the inspiration for “Lead, kindly Light.”

There was much of tragedy in the strange life of Newman. He was born in London, the son of a banker, February 21, 1801. It is said that he was extremely superstitious as a boy, and that he would cross himself, after the custom of Roman Catholics, whenever he entered a dark place. He also came to the conclusion that it was the will of God that he should never marry.

He graduated from Trinity College, Oxford, at the age of nineteen, and four years later was ordained as a minister of the Church of England. He soon began to be attracted by Roman Catholic teachings and to associate with leaders of that communion. In 1833 he was in poor health, and determined to go to Italy. This was the year of the famous “Oxford Movement,” which was destined to carry so many high Anglicans into the Roman communion. While in Rome he came still further under the influence of the Romanists, who lost no opportunity to take advantage of his perplexed state of mind. Leaving Rome, he went down to Sicily, where he was stricken with fever and was near death. After his recovery, his one thought was to return to his native shores. He writes:

“I was aching to get home; yet for want of a vessel was kept at Palermo for three weeks. At last I got an orange-boat bound for Marseilles. We were becalmed a whole week on the Mediterranean Sea. Then it was (June 16, 1833) that I wrote the lines: ‘Lead, kindly Light.’”

The hymn, therefore, may be said to be the work of a man who found himself in deep mental, physical, and spiritual distress. Newman was greatly dissatisfied with conditions within his own Church. In his perplexity he scarcely knew where to turn, but he had no intention at this time, as he himself states, to forsake the Church of England for the Roman Catholic communion. This step was not taken by him until twelve years later.

“Lead, kindly Light” was published for the first time in “The British Magazine,” in the month of March, 1834. It bore the title, “Faith—Heavenly Leadings.” Two years later he printed it with the title, “Light in the Darkness,” and the motto, “Unto the godly there ariseth up light in the darkness.” At a later date he published it under the title, “The Pillar of the Cloud.”

Newman ascribed its popularity as a hymn to the appealing tune written for it in 1865 by Dr. John B. Dykes. As to its poetic qualities there has been the widest divergence of opinion. While one critic has called it “one of the outstanding lyrics of the nineteenth century,” William T. Stead observes, caustically, that “It is somewhat hard for the staunch Protestant to wax enthusiastic over the invocation of a ‘Kindly Light’ which led the author straight into the arms of the Scarlet Woman of the Seven Hills.”

The hymn has often been attacked on the ground that it is not definitely Christian in character. In this respect it is similar to Mrs. Adams’ famous hymn, “Nearer, my God, to Thee.” When the Parliament of Religions convened in Chicago a few years ago, Newman’s hymn was the only one sung by representatives of all creeds from every part of the world. Bishop Bickersteth of England, feeling the need of the Christian note in the hymn, added the following stanza:

This was done, said Bishop Bickersteth, “from a deep conviction that the heart of the belated pilgrim can only find rest in the Light of Light.” The additional stanza, however, has not come into general use.

Many interpretations have been given to the closing lines,

Some have believed that Newman by “angel faces” had in mind loved ones lost through death. Yet others are convinced that the author had reference to the actual visions of angels which are said to have come to him in youth, and the loss of which greatly grieved him in later life. Newman himself, in a letter written January 18, 1879, refused to throw further light on the lines, pleading that he had forgotten the meaning that he had in mind when the hymn was written forty-six years before.

Rome honored its distinguished proselyte by making him a cardinal. It is said, however, that Newman was never again a happy man after having surrendered the faith of his fathers. He died at Birmingham, England, August 11, 1890, at the age of eighty-nine years.

A disciple of Newman’s, Frederick William Faber, may be mentioned in this connection, for the lives of the two men were strangely intertwined. Faber, who was the son of an English clergyman, was born at Yorkshire, June 28, 1814. He was graduated from Oxford in 1836, and became a minister of the English Church at Elton in 1843.

While at Oxford he came under the influence of the “Oxford Movement” and formed a deep attachment for Newman. It was inevitable, therefore, that he too should be carried into the Roman Church, which communion he joined in 1846. For some years he labored with Newman in the Catholic church of St. Philip Neri in London. He died in 1863 at the age of forty-nine years.

Faber wrote a large number of hymns, many of them before his desertion to the Church of Rome. Others, written after his defection, containing eulogies of Mary and petitions addressed to the saints, have been changed in order to make them suitable for Protestant hymn-books. His inordinate use of the word “sweet”, and his familiar manner of addressing Christ as “sweet Saviour” has called down harsh criticism on his hymns as sentimental and effeminate. However, such hymns as “There’s a wideness in God’s mercy,” “Hark, hark, my soul! angelic songs are swelling,” “O Saviour, bless us ere we go,” “O Paradise, O Paradise,” and “Faith of our fathers, living still” have probably found a permanent place in the hymn-books of the Church Universal, and will be loved and cherished both for their devotional spirit and their poetic beauty.

HENRY FRANCIS LYTE AND HIS SWAN SONG

Many a man who has labored in obscure places, practically unnoticed and unpraised by his own generation, has achieved a fame after his death that grows in magnitude with the passing years.

When Henry Francis Lyte died in 1847, he was little known beyond his humble seashore parish at Lower Brixham, England; but today, wherever his beautiful hymns are sung throughout the Christian world, he is gratefully remembered as the man who wrote “Abide with me.”

In response to a questionnaire sent to American readers recently by “The Etude,” a musical magazine, 7,500 out of nearly 32,000 persons who replied named “Abide with me” as their favorite hymn. It easily took first rank, displacing such older favorites as “Rock of Ages” and “Jesus, Lover of my soul.”

How often we have sung this hymn at the close of an evening service, and a settled peace has come into our hearts as we have realized the nearness of Him who said, “And lo! I am with you always.” Yet, this is not in reality an evening hymn. Its theme is the evening of life, and it was written when Lyte felt the shadows of death gathering about his own head. We catch his meaning in the second stanza:

Lyte was always frail in health. He was born in Scotland, June 1, 1793, and was early left an orphan. Nevertheless, despite the handicap of poverty, he struggled through college, and on three occasions won prizes with poems.

His first ambition was to become a physician, but during his college days he determined to enter the ministry. The death of a young friend, a brother clergyman, brought about a profound change in the spiritual life of Lyte. Called to the bedside of his friend to give him consolation, he discovered to his sorrow that both he and the dying man were blind guides who were still groping for light. Through a prayerful search of the Scriptures, however, they both came to a firm faith in Christ. Lyte wrote of his friend:

“He died happy under the belief that though he had deeply erred, there was One whose death and sufferings would atone for his delinquencies, and that he was forgiven and accepted for His sake.”

Concerning the change that came into his own life, he added: “I was greatly affected by the whole matter, and brought to look at life and its issue with a different eye than before; and I began to study my Bible and preach in another manner than I had previously done.”

For nearly twenty-five years after this incident Lyte labored among humble fisherfolk and sailors of the parish at Lower Brixham, and his deep spiritual zeal and fervor led him to overtax his physical powers. From time to time he was obliged to spend the winters in more friendly climes.

In the autumn of 1847 he wrote to a friend that the swallows were flying southward, and he observed, “They are inviting me to accompany them; and yet alas; while I am talking of flying, I am just able to crawl.”

The Sunday for his farewell service came. His family and friends admonished him not to preach a sermon, but the conscientious minister insisted. “It is better,” he said, “to wear out than to rust out.”

He did preach, and the hearts of his hearers were full that day, for they seemed to realize that it would probably be the last time they would hear him. The faithful pastor, too, seemed to have a premonition that it would be his last sermon. The service closed with the Lord’s Supper, administered by Lyte to his sorrowing flock.

“Though necessarily much exhausted by the exertion and excitement of this effort,” his daughter afterward wrote, “yet his friends had no reason to believe that it had been hurtful to him.”

This was September 4, 1847. That afternoon he walked out along the shore to watch the sun as it was setting in a glory of crimson and gold. It was a peaceful, beautiful Sabbath evening. Returning to his home, he shut himself up in his study for the brief space of an hour, and when he came out, he handed a near relative the manuscript containing the famous hymn, “Abide with me.” He also had composed a tune of his own for the words, but this never came into general use.

During the following week Lyte left his beloved England for Italy. However, he got no farther than Nice, in France, where he was obliged to discontinue his journey. Here he passed away November 20 of the same year. His last words were, “Joy! Peace!” and then he fell asleep.

A little cross marks his grave in the English cemetery at Nice, for he was buried there. Every year hundreds of pilgrims visit his grave and tell touching stories of how Lyte’s hymn brought them to faith in Christ Jesus.

It was Lyte’s life-long wish that he might leave behind him such a hymn as this. In an earlier poem he had voiced the longing that he might write

Lyte’s prayer was fulfilled. As long as men shall worship the crucified and risen Lord, so long will they continue to sing the sad and beautiful words of Lyte’s swan song.

In Lyte we have a hymn-writer of the first rank. Indeed, he is comparable to any of England’s greatest hymnists, not excepting Watts or Wesley. His hymns are real lyrics, Scriptural in language, rich in imagery, and exalted in poetic conception. “In no other author,” says an eminent authority, “is poetry and religion more exquisitely united.”

Aside from the sublime hymn we have mentioned, Lyte has given to the Church such noble lyrics as “Jesus, I my cross have taken,” “Pleasant are Thy courts above,” “Praise, my soul, the King of heaven,” “God of mercy, God of grace,” “My spirit on Thy care,” “As pants the hart for cooling streams,” and “O that the Lord’s salvation.” The latter hymn is one of the few ever written that voice a prayer for the salvation of Israel.

The poetic rapture to which Lyte’s poetry sometimes rises is most beautifully reflected in his hymn of adoration:

SARAH ADAMS AND THE RISE OF WOMEN HYMN-WRITERS

Nineteenth century hymnody was characterized by an extraordinary number of women hymn-writers. It is significant that this development came, as we have noted in a previous chapter, with the great spiritual revivals which aroused evangelical Europe and America from 1800 to 1875. It was also coincident with the general movement resulting in the enlargement of women’s influence and activity in all spheres of human endeavor. In the realm of hymnody women have become the chief exponents of church song.

Dr. Breed has pointed out that the large increase of women hymnists, as well as the preponderance of hymn translations, is indicative of a period of decadence in sacred song. While this is probably true of the latter half of the nineteenth century, which saw the rise of the so-called “Gospel song,” we must cheerfully recognize the fact that such women as Charlotte Elliott, Sarah Adams, Cecil Alexander and Frances Havergal in England and Mary Lathbury, Anna Warner, Catherine Esling, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Phoebe Gary, Elizabeth Prentiss and Fanny Crosby in America have contributed some of the most precious gems to the treasure-store of Christian hymns. Indeed, the hymnody of the Church would have been immeasurably poorer had these consecrated women failed to make use of their heaven-born talent.

And, although we must deplore the apparent fact that “original utterance in sacred song is departing from the Church,” we must be forever grateful to such gifted women as Catherine Winkworth and the Borthwick sisters, who, through their excellent translations, gave to the English-speaking world some of the choicest pearls of German hymnody.

Charlotte Elliott was the forerunner of the long line of women hymnists. Then came Sarah Flower Adams, the writer of “Nearer, my God, to Thee,” one of the greatest sacred lyrics ever given to the world, and probably the finest ever written by a woman.

Sarah Flower was born at Harlow, England, February 22, 1805, the daughter of Benjamin Flower, editor of the Cambridge “Intelligencer.” The mother died when Sarah was only five years old. A sister, Eliza, was a gifted musician, while Sarah early showed talent along literary lines. In later years Eliza wrote music for the hymns of her sister.

Sarah was fond of the stage. She believed that it could be made to teach great moral truths as well as the pulpit. Her dreams of becoming an actress, however, failed to materialize because of poor health. In 1834 she became the wife of John Bridges Adams, a civil engineer, after which she made her home in London. Her health was seriously impaired through caring for her sister, who died a consumptive in 1846, and she survived her less than two years.

Her great hymn was written in 1840. It was published the following year in a volume of hymns and anthems edited by her pastor, Rev. William Johnson Fox. This man was a Unitarian, and for this reason Mrs. Adams has also been classified with that sect. It is said, however, that she became a Baptist near the close of her life. Other hymns written by her indicate that she had arrived at a living faith in Christ. Perhaps the many trials she suffered proved in the end to be the means of bringing her to the Saviour. And thus was fulfilled in her own life the beautiful lines:

“Nearer, my God, to Thee” has probably aroused more discussion than any other hymn. Because it is based entirely on the story of Jacob at Bethel and omits reference to Christ, it has been called more Unitarian than Christian. Many efforts have been made, but without much success, to write a substitute hymn with a definite Christian note. In 1864 Bishop How of London wrote a hymn, the first stanza of which reads:

Prof. Henry Eyster Jacobs of Philadelphia, in 1887, also wrote a version:

The hymn was a favorite with William McKinley, the martyred president. When he was dying, his attending physician heard him murmur, “‘Nearer, my God, to Thee, E’en though it be a cross,’ has been my constant prayer.”

A HYMN WRITTEN IN A STAGE-COACH

Some one has said, “Let me write the songs of a nation, and I care not who may write its laws.”

It is a wise saying; for who can estimate the influence of the songs we sing, especially the songs of children? There is no better way to teach Christian truths to children than to have them sing those truths into their hearts and souls.

When Jemima Luke sat in an English stage-coach in 1841 composing the lines of a little poem that had been ringing in her mind, she could scarcely have known she was writing a hymn that would gladden the hearts of thousands of children in many years to come. But that is how she wrote “I think when I read that sweet story of old,” and that is the happy fate that was in store for her labor of love.

Her maiden name was Jemima Thompson. Her father was a missionary enthusiast, and she herself was filled with zeal for mission enterprises. Even as a child, at the age of thirteen, she was an anonymous contributor to “The Juvenile Magazine.” When she was twenty-eight years old she visited a school where the children had been singing a fine old melody as a marching song.

“What a lovely children’s hymn it would make,” she thought, “if only there were suitable religious words for it.”

She hunted through many books for the words she desired, but could find none that satisfied her. Some time later, as she was riding in a stage coach with nothing to occupy her, she thought of the tune again. Taking an old envelope from her pocket, she recorded on the back of it the words that have come to be loved on both sides of the Atlantic, and some day probably will be sung by the children of all the world.

When she returned home, she taught the words and the melody to her Sunday school class. Her father, who was superintendent of the school, chanced to hear them one day.

“Where did that hymn come from?” he asked.

“Jemima made it!” was the proud answer of the youngsters.

Without telling his daughter about it, the father sent a copy of the words to the “Sunday School Teachers’ Magazine,” and in a few weeks it appeared for the first time in print. Since that time it has continued to find a place year after year in almost every juvenile hymnal published in the English language.

The last stanza of the hymn, which begins with the words, “But thousands and thousands who wander and fall,” was added subsequently by the author, who desired to make it suitable for missionary gatherings. Her interest in foreign missions continued unabated throughout her life. At one time she was accepted as a missionary to the women of India, but poor health prevented her from carrying out her purpose. However, she edited “The Missionary Repository,” the first missionary magazine for children, and numbered among her contributors such famous missionaries as David Livingstone, Robert Moffatt and James Montgomery.

In 1843 she married a minister, Rev. Samuel Luke. After his death in 1868 she devoted much of her time to promoting the erection of parsonages in parishes that were too poor to provide them for their pastors.

AN ARCHBISHOP’S WIFE WHO WROTE HYMNS

Shortly before the death in 1911 of Archbishop William Alexander, primate of the Anglican Church in Ireland, he remarked that he would be remembered as the husband of the woman who wrote “The roseate hues of early dawn” and “There is a green hill far away.”

The humble prelate was right. Although he occupied an exalted position in the Church less than two decades ago, few people today recall his name. But who has not heard the name of Cecil Frances Humphreys Alexander, who, in spite of multitudinous duties as wife and mother, found time to be a parish worker among the poor and to write hymns that shall never die?

When Cecil Frances was only a little girl, she began to reveal poetic talent. Because her father was an officer in the Royal Marines and rather a stern man, she was not sure that he would be pleased with her efforts and therefore she hid her poems under a carpet! When he finally discovered what his nine-year-old daughter was busying herself with, he set aside a certain hour every Saturday evening, at which time he read aloud to the family the poems she had written.

The family numbered among its friends none other than John Keble, writer of the famous collection of devotional poems known as “The Christian Year,” and he, too, gave encouragement to the youthful poet.

In 1848, at the age of twenty-five, she published a volume of hymns for little children that probably has never been excelled by a similar collection. Two years later she became the bride of Rev. William Alexander, afterwards Bishop of Derry and Raphoe, and later Archbishop of Armaugh. He was rector of a country parish in the county of Tyrone at the time, and there was much poverty among his people. Among these needy folk the young minister’s wife moved about like a ministering angel. A beautiful tribute to her memory from the pen of her husband reads: “From one poor home to another, from one bed of sickness to another, from one sorrow to another, she went. Christ was ever with her, and in her, and all felt her influence.”

But the poetic spark within her was not permitted to languish. Even when children began to bless this unusual household and the cares of the mother increased, her harp was tuned anew and sweeter songs than ever began to well up from her joyous, thankful heart.

Practically all of the four hundred hymns and poems written by Mrs. Alexander were intended for children, and for this reason their language is very simple. At the same time she succeeds in teaching some of the most profound truths of the Christian faith. Witness, for example, the simple language of “There is a green hill far away.” A child has no difficulty in comprehending it, and yet this precious hymn sets forth in a most touching way the whole story of the Atonement.

Again, the infinite value of the sacrifice which Christ made when He, the Sinless One, died for sinners is expressed in these simple, appealing words:

BONAR, THE SWEET SINGER OF SCOTLAND

One of Scotland’s most earnest soul-winners was also its greatest hymnist. He was Horatius Bonar, a name that will be forever cherished by all who are filled with a fervent love for the Saviour and who find that love so beautifully expressed in the spiritual songs of the noble Scotchman.

Like the hymns of Mrs. Alexander, Dr. Bonar wrote his songs for children; but they are so profound and intensely spiritual in their very simplicity they will always satisfy the most mature Christian mind. No matter how old we become, our hearts will ever be stirred as we sing the tender words:

The subjective, emotional element is strongly present in the hymns of Bonar. In this respect there is a striking resemblance to the hymns of the great German writer, Benjamin Schmolck. Both use the name “Jesus” freely, and both become daringly intimate, yet the hymns of neither are weak or sentimental.

In Bonar we behold the strange anomaly of a man with a strong physique and powerful intellect combined with the gentle, sympathetic nature of a woman and the simple, confiding faith of a child. The warmth and sincerity of his personal faith in Christ may be seen reflected in all his hymns. “I try to fill my hymns with the love and light of Christ,” he once said, and certainly he has drawn many souls to the Saviour by the tenderness of their appeal.

Bonar is ever pointing in his hymns to Christ as an all-sufficient Saviour, dwelling in simple language on the blessings of the Atonement and the willingness of God to accept all who come to Him through Christ. In these days of modernistic teachings when practically all stress is placed on “living the Christ-life” while the meritorious work of Christ on behalf of the sinner is largely ignored and forgotten, it would be salutary for the Church to listen anew to such words as these:

TWO FAMOUS TRANSLATORS OF ANCIENT HYMNS

Little more than a century ago—in the year 1818, to be exact—there was born in the great city of London a child who was destined to become an unusual scholar. He was christened John Mason Neale, a name that may be found today throughout the pages of the world’s best hymn-books.

When he was only five years old, his father died, and, like so many other men who have achieved fame, he received the greater part of his elementary training from a gifted mother.

At Cambridge University, which he entered at an early age, he became a brilliant student, leading his classes and winning numerous prizes. After his graduation he was ordained as a minister in the Church of England.

His interest in the ancient hymns of the Christian Church led him to spend much time in the morning lands of history, particularly in Greece. To him, more than any one else, we owe some of the most successful translations from the classical languages. By his sojourn in eastern lands, he seems to have been enabled to catch the spirit of the Greek hymns to such a degree that his translations read almost like original poems. For instance, in order to do justice to the famous Easter hymn of John of Damascus, written some time during the eighth century, Neale celebrated Easter in Athens and heard the “glorious old hymn of victory,” as he called it, sung by a great throng of worshipers at midnight. The result is his sublime translation:

BARING-GOULD AND HIS NOTED HYMN

When Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould, on Whitsunday, 1865, sat up a greater portion of the night to compose a hymn, he did not realize he was writing words that would be sung through the centuries; but that no doubt will be the result of his zeal. The hymn he wrote was “Onward, Christian soldiers.”

The story is an interesting one. At that time Baring-Gould was minister of the Established Church at Lew-Trenchard, England. On Whitmonday the children of his village were to march to an adjoining village for a Sunday school rally.

“If only there was something they could sing as they marched,” the pastor thought, “the way would not seem so long.” He searched diligently for something suitable but failed to find what he wanted. Finally he decided to write a marching song. It took the greater part of the night to do it, but the next morning the children’s pilgrimage was made the lighter and happier by “Onward, Christian soldiers.”

Commenting on the hymn some thirty years later, the author said: “It was written in great haste, and I am afraid some of the rhymes are faulty. Certainly, nothing has surprised me more than its popularity.”

In this instance, as in many others that might be mentioned, the tune to which it is inseparably wedded, has no doubt contributed much to make it popular. Sir Arthur Seymour Sullivan, the great English organist who wrote “The Lost Chord,” in 1872 composed the stirring music now used for Baring-Gould’s hymn.

Objection has sometimes been voiced against the hymn because of its martial spirit. However, it should be noted that this hymn gives not the slightest hint of warfare with carnal weapons. The allusion is to spiritual warfare, and the warrior is the Christian soldier.

We are reminded throughout this hymn of Paul’s martial imagery in the sixth chapter of Ephesians, where he tells us that “our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places,” and admonishes us to put on “the whole armor of God.” We also recall the same apostle’s exhortation to Timothy to “war the good warfare,” and to “fight the good fight of faith.”

It is salutary to be reminded by such a hymn as this of the heroic character of the Christian life. The follower of Jesus is not to sit with folded hands and sing his way into Paradise. A sickly, sentimental religion has no more place in the Christian Church today than it had in those early days when apostles and martyrs sealed their faith with their life-blood. Baring-Gould’s hymn seems almost an exultant answer to Isaac Watts’ challenging stanza:

We sometimes hear it said that the Church of Christ has fallen on evil days, and more than one faithful soul fears for the future. Baring-Gould has reminded us here of Christ’s “own promise” that, though kingdoms may rise and fall, His kingdom shall ever remain, for the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

During a desperate battle between the French and Austrians in the Napoleonic wars, a French officer rushed to his commander and exclaimed, “The battle is lost!” Quietly the general answered, “One battle is lost, but there is time to win another.” Inspired by the commander’s unconquerable optimism, the French army renewed the struggle and snatched victory out of the jaws of defeat. That has ever been the history of the Church of Christ.

Baring-Gould was one of England’s most versatile ministers. In addition to his hymn-writing, he was a novelist of considerable reputation. For many years he regularly produced a novel every year. His “Lives of the Saints” in fifteen volumes, his “Curious Myths of the Middle Ages” and his “Legends of the Old Testament” are all notable works. It is said that he did all his writing in long hand without the aid of a secretary. He once declared that he often did his best work when he felt least inclined to apply himself to his task. He never waited for an “inspiration,” but plunged into his work and then stuck to it until it was finished.

The beautiful evening hymn, “Now the day is over,” is also from Baring-Gould’s pen, and, to show his versatility, he also composed the tune for it. He was also the translator of Bernhardt Severin Ingemann’s famous Danish hymn, “Through the night of doubt and sorrow.”

Despite his arduous and unceasing labors, Baring-Gould lived to the ripe old age of ninety years. He died in 1924, but his hymn goes marching on.

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL, THE CONSECRATION POET

The beauty of a consecrated Christian life has probably never been more perfectly revealed than in the life of Frances Ridley Havergal. To read the story of her life is not only an inspiration, but it discloses at once the secret of her beautiful hymns. She lived her hymns before she wrote them.

This sweetest of all English singers was born at Astley, Worcestershire, December 14, 1836. She was such a bright, happy and vivacious child that her father, who was a minister of the Church of England and himself a hymn-writer of no mean ability, called her “Little Quicksilver.” Her father was also a gifted musician, and this quality too was inherited by the daughter, who became a brilliant pianist and passionately fond of singing. However, because she looked upon her talents as gifts from God to be used only in His service, she would sing nothing but sacred songs.

Her sunshiny nature became even more radiant following a deep religious experience at the age of fourteen. Of this she afterwards wrote:

“I committed my soul to the Saviour, and earth and heaven seemed brighter from that moment.”

At the age of eighteen she was confirmed. It is evident that she looked upon her confirmation as one of the most blessed experiences of her life, for when she returned home she wrote in her manuscript book of poems:

A UNITARIAN WHO GLORIED IN THE CROSS

Among the great hymns of the cross, Sir John Bowring’s classic, “In the cross of Christ I glory,” occupies a foremost place. This is all the more remarkable when we are reminded that Bowring was known as a Unitarian, a communion which not only denies the deity of Christ, but ignores the true significance of the cross. And yet he has given us a hymn that every evangelical Christian rejoices to sing, for it is a hymn that magnifies the cross and makes it the very center of the Christian religion.

In justice to Bowring it ought to be stated that he himself was “a devoted and evangelical believer,” and that his connection with the Unitarian Church was merely accidental and nominal. When he died, in 1872, the opening line of his famous hymn was inscribed in bold letters upon his tombstone:

In the Cross of Christ I Glory

Knowing these things, every true Christian will cherish an inner conviction that the man who wrote so beautiful a tribute to Christ and the cross did not really die but only fell asleep, trusting in the atoning death of a Saviour who is God.

Bowring was a learned man, especially famed as a linguist. He is said to have been able to speak twenty-two languages fluently, and was able to converse in at least one hundred different tongues. He found special delight in translating poems from other languages. His published works contain translations from Bohemian, Slavonic, Russian, Servian, Polish, Slovakian, Illyrian, Teutonic, Esthonian, Dutch, Frisian, Lettish, Finnish, Hungarian, Biscayan, French, Provencal, Gascon, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Catalonian and Galician sources.

Sir John was particularly fond of the study of hymns. Even at the age of eighty years he was said to begin the day with some new song of thanksgiving.

In addition to all his other accomplishments, Bowring had a very distinguished career in English politics. He was twice a member of the British parliament. Later he became consul general for the English government at Hong Kong, China. During this period he chanced to sail down the Chinese coast to Macao, where nearly 400 years earlier the Portuguese explorer, Vasco da Gama, had built an imposing cathedral. The structure had been wrecked by a typhoon, but the tower still remained, and surmounting it a great bronze cross, sharply outlined against the sky. Far above the wreckage surrounding it, the cross seemed to Bowring to be a symbol of Christ’s Kingdom, glorious and eternal, living through the centuries while other kingdoms have come and gone. So inspired was he by the sight, the words of the hymn seemed to suggest themselves to him at once, and in a short while a famous poem had been written.

The plan of the hymn is interesting. The first stanza declares the cross of Christ to be the central fact in divine revelation and the one theme in which the Christian never ceases to glory. The second stanza pictures the cross as the Christian’s refuge and comfort in time of affliction, while the third tells how it also adds luster to the days of joy and sunshine. The final stanza summarizes these two ideas, and the hymn closes by telling of the eternal character of the peace and joy that flow from the cross.

A MODEL HYMN BY A MODEL MINISTER

It is a significant fact that many of the greatest hymns of the Church have been written by pastors who have been noted for their zeal in winning souls. Their hymns have been a part of their spiritual stratagem to draw the wayward and erring into the gospel net. Bishop William Walsham How, one of the more recent hymnists of England, is a shining example of true devotion in a Christian shepherd.

Bishop How once gave a striking description of the characteristics which he believed should be found in an ideal minister of the gospel. “Such a minister,” he said, “should be a man pure, holy, and spotless in his life; a man of much prayer; in character meek, lowly, and infinitely compassionate; of tenderest love to all; full of sympathy for every pain and sorrow, and devoting his days and nights to lightening the burdens of humanity; utterly patient of insult and enmity; utterly fearless in speaking the truth and rebuking sin; ever ready to answer every call, to go wherever bidden, in order to do good; wholly without thought of self; making himself the servant of all; patient, gentle, and untiring in dealing with the souls he would save; bearing with ignorance, wilfulness, slowness, cowardice, in those of whom he expects most; sacrificing all, even life itself, if need be, to save some.”

Those who knew How best said it was almost a perfect description of his own life and character.

When Queen Victoria, in 1879, made him Bishop of Bedford, with East London as his diocese, he was tireless in his efforts to alleviate conditions in that poverty-stricken district. When he first began his work in the slums, people would point to him and say, “There goes a bishop.” But as they came to know him better, they said, “There goes the bishop.” And finally, when they learned to love him, they exclaimed, “There goes our bishop.”

Bishop How’s most celebrated hymn is “O Jesus, Thou art standing.” It is based on the impressive words of the Saviour in the Book of Revelation, “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.”

Though the language of the hymn is commonplace, there are striking expressions here, as in How’s other hymns, that arrest the attention of the worshiper. In the first stanza we are reminded that there are many nominal Christians bearing “His Name and sign” who yet are keeping the waiting, patient Saviour outside a “fast-closed door.” In the succeeding verse we are told that it is sin that bars the gate. Then there is the concluding stanza with its gripping appeal, picturing the surrender of the human heart to the pleading Christ.

The imagery in the hymn was, no doubt, suggested by Holman Hunt’s celebrated painting, “The Light of the World.” This was executed by Hunt in 1855, while the hymn by How was written twelve years later. Those who are familiar with the Hunt masterpiece will remember how it pictures the Saviour standing patiently and knocking earnestly at a fast-closed door. The high weeds, the tangled growth of vines, as well as the unpicked fruit lying on the ground before the door, suggest that it has not been opened for a long time. A bat is hovering in the vines overhead.

MATHESON AND HIS SONG IN THE NIGHT

The most recent of English hymn-writers to gain recognition in the standard hymn-books of the Church is George Matheson. The fame of this man will probably rest on a single hymn, “O Love that wilt not let me go,” written on a summer evening in 1882.

A deeper appreciation and understanding will be felt for this hymn when we know that it is truly a “song in the night,” for Matheson was blind when he wrote it.

Born in Glasgow, Scotland, March 27, 1842, Matheson enjoyed partial vision as a boy. However, after he entered Glasgow University at the age of fifteen, his sight began to fail and he became totally blind. Nevertheless, in spite of this handicap, he was a brilliant scholar and graduated with honor in 1861. Having decided to enter the ministry, he remained four additional years for theological studies.

It was while he was parish minister at Innellan, a seaport summer resort in Scotland, that the famous hymn was written. He tells the story in his own words:

“It was written in the manse of my former parish (Innellan) one summer evening in 1882. It was composed with extreme rapidity; it seemed to me that its construction occupied only a few minutes, and I felt myself rather in the position of one who was being dictated to than an original artist. I was suffering from extreme mental distress, and the hymn was the fruit of pain.”