Chapter XIII: Part IV: English Hymnody (3)

"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:

Meantime along the narrow rugged path
Thyself hast trod,
Lead, Saviour, lead me home in childlike faith,
Home to my God
To rest for ever after earthly strife
In the calm light of everlasting life.

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,

And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

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.

Faber wrote "Faith of our fathers" after his defection to the Church of Rome. In its original form the author expressed the hope that England would be brought back to the papal fold. The opening lines, as Faber wrote them, were:

Faith of our fathers! Mary's prayers
Shall win our country back to thee.

A Hymn Written in the Shadows

Abide with me! fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me!

I need Thy presence every passing hour:
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me!

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless:
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me!

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes,
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!

Henry Francis Lyte, 1847.

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:

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away.

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

Some simple strain, some spirit-moving lay,
Some sparklet of the soul that still might live
When I was passed to clay....

O Thou! whose touch can lend
Life to the dead, Thy quick'ning grace supply,
And grant me, swanlike, my last breath to spend
In song that may not die!

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:

Praise, my soul, the King of heaven;
To His feet thy tribute bring;
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Who like thee His praise should sing?
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise the everlasting King!

Praise Him for His grace and favor
To our fathers in distress;
Praise Him, still the same as ever,
Slow to chide, and swift to bless:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Glorious in His faithfulness!

A Woman's Gift to the Church

Nearer, my God, to Thee!
Nearer to Thee!
E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth me,
Still all my song shall be,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

Though, like the wanderer,
The sun gone down,
Darkness be over me,
My rest a stone,
Yet in my dreams I'd be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

There let my way appear
Steps unto heaven;
All that Thou sendest me
In mercy given;
Angels to beckon me
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

Then with my waking thoughts,
Bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs
Bethel I'll raise,
So by my woes to be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

Or if on joyful wing,
Cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot,
Upwards I fly;
Still all my song shall be,
Nearer, my God to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

Sarah Adams, 1840.

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:

E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth me.

"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:

Nearer, O God, to Thee!
Hear Thou our prayer;
E'en though a heavy cross
Fainting we bear.
Still all our prayer shall be
Nearer, O God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

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

Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!
Through Word and Sacrament
Thou com'st to me.
Thy grace is ever near,
Thy Spirit ever here
Drawing to Thee.

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."

That Sweet Story of Old

I think, when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
How He called little children as lambs to His fold,
I should like to have been with them then.

I wish that His hand had been placed on my head,
That His arm had been thrown around me,
And that I might have seen His kind look when He said,
"Let the little ones come unto Me."

Yet still to His footstool in prayer I may go,
And ask for a share in His love;
And if only I earnestly seek Him below,
I shall see Him and hear Him above.

In that beautiful place He has gone to prepare
For all who are washed and forgiven,
Full many dear children are gathering there,
"For of such is the kingdom of heaven"

But thousands and thousands who wander and fall
Never heard of that heavenly home:
I should like them to know there is room for them all,
And that Jesus has bid them to come.

And O how I long for that glorious time,
The sweetest and brightest and best,
When the dear little children of every clime
Shall crowd to His arms and be blest!

Jemima Luke, 1841.

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.

When an international convention of the Christian Endeavor society was held in Baltimore in 1904, Mrs. Luke sent the following message to the young people:

"Dear children, you will be men and women soon, and it is for you and the children of England to carry the message of a Saviour's love to every nation of this sin-stricken world. It is a blessed message to carry, and it is a happy work to do. The Lord make you ever faithful to Him, and unspeakably happy in His service! I came to Him at ten years of age, and at ninety-one can testify to His care and faithfulness."

She died in 1906 at the age of ninety-three years. Although she wrote a great deal of inspiring Christian literature, it is only her beautiful "Sweet Story of Old" that has come down to us.

Redemption's Story in a Hymn

There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified,
Who died to save us all.

We may not know, we cannot tell,
What pains He had to bear;
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.

He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might go at last to heaven,
Saved by His precious blood.

There was no other good enough
To pay the price of sin;
He only could unlock the gate
Of heaven, and let us in.

O dearly, dearly has He loved,
And we must love Him too,
And trust in His redeeming blood,
And try His works to do.

Cecil Frances Alexander, 1848.

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.

He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might go at last to heaven,
Saved by His precious blood.

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:

There was no other good enough
To pay the price of sin,
He only could unlock the gate
Of heaven, and let us in.

Archbishop Alexander mentioned two hymns by which his wife's name, and incidentally his own, would be remembered. He might have added several others, such as the challenging hymn, "Jesus calls us; o'er the tumult," or the two beautiful children's hymns, "Once in royal David's city" and "All things bright and beautiful." And among her splendid poems he might have mentioned the sublime verses entitled "The Burial of Moses." Her own spirit of confiding trust in God is reflected in the lines:

O lonely tomb in Moab's land!
O dark Beth-peor's hill!
Speak to these curious hearts of ours,
And teach them to be still;

God has His mysteries of grace,
Ways that we cannot tell;
He hides them deep, like the secret sleep
Of him He loved so well.

Mrs. Alexander died in 1895 at the age of seventy-two years. She was buried in Londonderry, Ireland. At Archbishop Alexander's funeral sixteen years later "The roseate hues of early dawn" was sung in Londonderry cathedral, and when the body was lowered into the grave the mourners sang, "There is a green hill far away."

During the years when Mrs. Alexander was penning her beautiful lyrics, three other women were giving hymns to the English people in another way. They were Catherine Winkworth and the sisters Jane Borthwick and Sarah Borthwick Findlater, all three of whom had conceived a deep love for the wonderful hymns of Germany and were translating them into their native tongue.

Miss Winkworth, who is the foremost translator of German hymns, was born in London, September 13, 1829. Her "Lyra Germanica," published in 1855, met with such favorable reception that a second series was issued in 1858. Her "Christian Singers of Germany" was published in 1869.

Miss Winkworth possessed a marvelous ability of preserving the spirit of the great German hymns while she clothed them in another language. It was she who gave us in English dress such magnificent hymns as Rinkart's "Now thank we all our God," Luther's "Out of the depths I cry to Thee," Decius' "All glory be to God on high," Neander's "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation," Schmolck's "Open now thy gates of beauty," and Gerhardt's "All my heart this night rejoices." Miss Winkworth, more than any other one person, is responsible for having aroused in England and America an appreciation of the treasure store of German hymnody. She died in 1869.

The two Borthwick sisters, Jane Laurie and Sarah, were born in Edinburgh, Scotland, the former in 1813 and the latter in 1823. They came from an old Scotch family. Sarah married a Rev. Eric Findlater and lived for a time in Perthshire.

The Borthwick sisters collaborated in the preparation of the translations entitled "Hymns from the Land of Luther." These appeared first in 1854 and continued in four series until 1862. Although it is difficult to distinguish the individual work of the sisters, Jane is generally credited with the translation of such noble hymns as Zinzendorf's "Jesus, still lead on," and Schmolck's "My Jesus, as Thou wilt," while Sarah is believed to be the translator of Tersteegen's "God calling yet," Spitta's "O happy home, where Thou art loved the dearest," Schmolck's "My God, I know that I must die," and a large number of other famous German hymns.

Jane Borthwick died in 1897, and her younger sister followed her ten years later.

The Voice of Jesus

I heard the voice of Jesus say:
"Come unto Me and rest;
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
Thy head upon My breast."
I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary, and worn, and sad;
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
"Behold, I freely give
The living water, thirsty one,
Stoop down, and drink, and live."
I came to Jesus and I drank
Of that life-giving stream;
My thirst was quenched, my soul revived,
And now I live in Him.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
"I am this dark world's Light;
Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise,
And all thy day be bright."
I looked to Jesus, and I found
In Him my Star, my Sun;
And in that Light of life I'll walk,
Till traveling days are done.

Horatius Bonar, 1846.

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:

I long to be like Jesus,
Meek, loving, lowly, mild;
I long to be like Jesus,
The Father's holy Child.
I long to be with Jesus,
Amid the heavenly throng,
To sing with saints His praises,
To learn the angels' song.

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:

Upon a Life I have not lived,
Upon a Death I did not die,
Another's Life; Another's Death:
I stake my whole eternity.

Not on the tears which I have shed;
Not on the sorrows I have known:
Another's tears; Another's griefs:
On them I rest, on them alone.

Jesus, O Son of God, I build
On what Thy cross has done for me;
There both my death and life I read;
My guilt, my pardon there I see.

Lord, I believe; O deal with me
As one who has Thy Word believed!
I take the gift, Lord, look on me
As one who has Thy gift received.

Bonar was born in Edinburgh, December 19, 1808. His father was a lawyer, but he came from a long line of eminent Scottish ministers. His mother was a gentle, pious woman, and it was largely through her influence that her three sons, John, Horatius and Andrew, entered the ministry of the Church of Scotland. Andrew became a noted Bible commentator.

After completing his course at the University of Edinburgh, Horatius began mission work in Leith, under Rev. James Lewis. In one of the most squalid parts of the city he conducted services and Sunday school in a hall. The children did not seem to enjoy singing the Psalm paraphrases, which were still exclusively used by the Church of Scotland at that late date, and therefore Bonar decided to write songs of his own. Like Luther, he chose happy tunes familiar to the children, and wrote words to fit them. His first two hymns were "I lay my sins on Jesus" and "The morning, the bright and beautiful morning." Still others were "I was a wandering sheep" and "A few more years shall roll." Needless to say, the children sang and enjoyed them.

At this time, also, he wrote his first hymn for adults, "Go, labor on! Spend and be spent!" It was intended to encourage those who were working with him among the poor of his district.

After four years Bonar was ordained as a minister of the Church of Scotland, assuming charge of a new church at Kelso. He was a man of prayer, and his first sermon to his people was an exhortation to prayer. It is said that a young servant in his home was converted by his prayers. Hearing his earnest supplications from his locked study, she thought: "If he needs to pray so much, what will become of me, if I do not pray!"

Many stories are related of his methods of dealing with seeking souls. A young man who was troubled by a grievous sin came to Bonar for help. The latter told him that God was willing to forgive and that the blood of Jesus His Son cleanseth from all sin. The despairing young man seemed unable to believe the gospel message, however, and continually reminded Bonar of the greatness of his transgression. Finally an inspiration came to the pastor. "Tell me," he demanded, "which is of greater weight in the eyes of God--your sin, black as it is, or the blood of Jesus, shed for sinners?" Light dawned on the soul of the troubled young man, and he cried joyfully, "Oh, I am sure the blood of Jesus weighs more heavily than even my sin!" And so he found peace.

Bonar was a man of boundless energy. When he was not preaching, he was writing hymns or tracts or books. One of his tracts, "Believe and Live," was printed in more than a million copies, and the late Queen Victoria of England was much blessed by it. His hymns number about 600, and the fact that at least 100 are in common use today is a testimonial to their worth. Dr. Bonar never used his hymns in his own church worship, but when, on a certain occasion near the close of his life, he broke the rule, two of his elders showed their emphatic disapproval by walking out of church.

Perhaps the finest hymn we have received from his pen, if we except "I lay my sins on Jesus," is "I heard the voice of Jesus say." Other familiar hymns are "Thy works, not mine, O Christ," "Not what my hands have done," "Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power," "All that I was, my sin, my guilt," "Thy way, not mine, O Lord," and "A few more years shall roll."

In 1843 Dr. Bonar married Miss Jane Lundie, and for forty years they shared joy and sorrow. She, too, was a gifted writer, and it is she who has given us the beautiful gem, "Fade, fade, each earthly joy."

Sorrow was one of the means used by the Lord to enrich and mellow the life of Bonar. Five of his children died in early years. It required much of divine grace in such experiences to write lines like these:

Spare not the stroke; do with us as Thou wilt;
Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred.
Complete Thy purpose, that we may become
Thy perfect image, O our God and Lord.

Bonar himself was sorely afflicted during the last two years of his life. He died in 1889, deeply mourned by all Scotland as well as by Christians throughout the world who had come to know him through his tracts and hymns. At his funeral one of his own hymns was sung. It was written on the theme of his family motto, "Heaven at Last."

What a city! what a glory!
Far beyond the brightest story
Of the ages old and hoary:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Christ Himself the living splendor,
Christ the sunlight mild and tender;
Praises to the Lamb we render:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Now, at length, the veil is rended,
Now the pilgrimage is ended,
And the saints their thrones ascended:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Broken death's dread bands that bound us,
Life and victory around us;
Christ, the King, Himself hath crowned us;
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

The Dayspring from on High

O very God of very God,
And very Light of Light,
Whose feet this earth's dark valley trod,
That so it might be bright!

Our hopes are weak, our foes are strong,
Thick darkness blinds our eyes;
Cold is the night, and O we long
For Thee, our Sun, to rise!

And even now, though dull and gray,
The east is brightening fast,
And kindling to the perfect day
That never shall be past.

O guide us till our path be done,
And we have reached the shore
Where Thou, our everlasting Sun,
Art shining evermore!

We wait in faith, and turn our face
To where the daylight springs,
Till Thou shalt come our gloom to chase,
With healing on Thy wings.

John Mason Neale, 1846.

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:

The day of resurrection!
Earth, tell it out abroad!
The Passover of gladness,
The Passover of God!
From death to Life eternal,
From earth unto the sky,
Our Christ hath brought us over,
With hymns of victory.

Another very famous translation from the Greek by Neale is the hymn:

Art thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distressed?
"Come to me," saith One, "and, coming,
Be at rest."

This hymn is often regarded as an original by Neale, but the author was St. Stephen the Sabaite, a monk who received his name from the monastery in which he spent his life, that of St. Sabas, near Bethlehem, overlooking the Dead Sea. St. Stephen, who was born in 725 A.D., had been placed in the monastery at the age of ten years by his uncle. He lived there more than half a century until his death in 794 A.D.

Neale was equally successful in the translation of ancient Latin hymns. Perhaps the most notable is his rendering of Bernard of Cluny's immortal hymn:

Jerusalem, the golden,
With milk and honey blest!
Beneath thy contemplation
Sink heart and voice oppressed:
I know not, O I know not,
What blissful joys are there,
What radiancy of glory,
What light beyond compare!

So facile was Neale in the art of writing either English or Latin verse, that he often astounded his friends. It is said that on one occasion John Keble, author of "The Christian Year," was visiting him. Absenting himself from the room for a few minutes, Neale returned shortly and exclaimed: "I thought, Keble, that all your poems in 'The Christian Year' were original; but one of them, at least, seems to be a translation." Thereupon he handed Keble, to the latter's amazement, a very fine Latin rendering of one of Keble's own poems. He had made the translation during his absence from the room.

But Neale did not confine himself to translations. He also wrote a large number of splendid original hymns. He was fond of writing hymns for holy days and festivals of the church year. The hymn printed in connection with this sketch is for Advent. "Oh Thou, who by a star didst guide," for Epiphany, and "Blessed Saviour, who hast taught me," for confirmation, are among his other original hymns.

Because of his "high church" tendencies, accentuated no doubt by the influence of the "Oxford Movement," Neale incurred the suspicion of some that he leaned toward the Church of Rome. However, there is nothing of Roman error to be found in his hymns. The evangelical note rings pure and clear, and for this reason they will no doubt continue to be loved and sung through centuries yet to come.

Neale died August 6, 1866, at the age of forty-eight years, trusting in the atoning blood of Christ, and with the glorious assurance expressed in his version of St. Stephen's hymn:

If I still hold closely to Him,
What hath He at last?
"Sorrow vanquished, labor ended,
Jordan passed."

If I ask Him to receive me,
Will He say me nay?
"Not till earth and not till heaven
Pass away."

Another Englishman who gained renown by translations of the old classical hymns of the Church was Edward Caswall. He was a contemporary of Neale, and, like the latter, came under the influence of the "Oxford Movement," which cost the Church of England some of its ablest men. While Neale, however, remained faithful to his own communion, Caswall resigned as a minister of the English Church and became a Romanist. He was made a priest in the Congregation of the Oratory, which Cardinal Newman had established in Birmingham, a position he continued to fill until his death in 1878.

Two of the most beautiful hymns in the English language--"Jesus, the very thought of Thee" and "O Jesus, King most wonderful"--were derived by Caswall from the famous Latin poem, _De Nomine Jesu_, by Bernard of Clairvaux. Of the former hymn Dr. Robinson has said: "One might call this poem the finest in the world and still be within the limits of all extravagance."

Among other fine translations from the Latin by Caswall are "Hark! a thrilling voice is sounding" and "Glory be to Jesus." He also has given us some hymns from the German, including the exquisite morning hymn, "When morning gilds the skies." This is such a free rendering, however, that it may rather be regarded as an original hymn by Caswall. Three of its stanzas read:

When morning gilds the skies,
My heart, awaking, cries,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
Alike at work and prayer,
To Jesus I repair;
May Jesus Christ be praised!

In heaven's eternal bliss
The loveliest strain is this,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
Let air, and sea, and sky
From depth to height reply,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

Be this, while life is mine,
My canticle divine,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
Be this the eternal song
Through all the ages on,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

A Great Marching Song

Onward, Christian soldiers,
Marching as to war,
With the cross of Jesus
Going on before.
Christ, the royal Master,
Leads against the foe;
Forward into battle,
See, His banners go!

At the sign of triumph
Satan's armies flee;
On, then, Christian soldiers,
On to victory!
Hell's foundations quiver
At the shout of praise;
Brothers, lift your voices,
Loud your anthems raise.

Crowns and thrones may perish,
Kingdoms rise and wane,
But the church of Jesus
Constant will remain;
Gates of hell can never
'Gainst that church prevail;
We have Christ's own promise,
And that cannot fail.

Onward, then, ye people!
Join our happy throng,
Blend with ours your voices
In the triumph-song;
Glory, laud, and honor
Unto Christ the King,
This through countless ages
Men and angels sing.

Sabine Baring-Gould, 1865.

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:

Must I be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize,
And sailed through bloody seas?

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.

A Rapturous Hymn of Adoration

O Saviour, precious Saviour,
Whom, yet unseen, we love;
O Name of might and favor,
All other names above:
We worship Thee, we bless Thee,
To Thee alone we sing;
We praise Thee and confess Thee,
Our holy Lord and King.

O Bringer of salvation,
Who wondrously hast wrought,
Thyself the revelation
Of love beyond our thought;
We worship Thee, we bless Thee,
To Thee alone we sing;
We praise Thee and confess Thee,
Our gracious Lord and King.