The Story of Our Hymns - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel The Story of Our Hymns Part 48 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
Bishop c.o.xe was not primarily a hymn-writer. His fame rests chiefly on his religious ballads. It was in 1840, when a young student of twenty-two, that he published his first volume, ent.i.tled "Christian Ballads." These are mostly moral poems, impressive and challenging in character, but not usually suitable as hymns. One of them, however, bearing the name of "Chelsea," has yielded the famous hymn, "O where are kings and empires now?"
An interesting story is told concerning this hymn. In 1873 the General Conference of the Evangelical Alliance was held in New York City. It was a period when many scientific objections had been raised regarding the value of prayer, and many anxious souls were fearful that the faith of the Church was being shaken to its foundations. President Woolsey of Yale University gave the opening address. After he had referred to the wave of skepticism that had swept over the world, particularly in regard to prayer, he looked out upon the a.s.sembly with a quiet, confident smile lighting his features, and then quoted the first stanza of Bishop c.o.xe's hymn:
O where are kings and empires now, Of old that went and came?
But, Lord, Thy church is praying yet, A thousand years the same.
"For a moment," writes an eye-witness, "there was silence. In another moment the full significance of the reference had flashed on every mind, and the response was instantaneous and universal. Shouts, waving of handkerchiefs, clapping of hands, stamping of feet--I never knew anything like it. Round after round continued, until the storm of applause ended in a burst of grateful tears. No one doubted that the Church still believed in prayer and that the tempest had pa.s.sed without the loss of a sail."
In the same volume of "Christian Ballads" there appears another little poem, most appealing in its simplicity:
In the silent midnight-watches, List--thy bosom door!
How it knocketh, knocketh, knocketh, Knocketh, evermore!
Say not 'tis thy pulse is beating: 'Tis thy heart of sin; 'Tis thy Saviour knocks, and crieth, "Rise, and let Me in!"
For a time c.o.xe gave promise of becoming the "John Keble of America," but after his election as a bishop in the Episcopal Church, pressing duties interfered with his literary work, and in later years he wrote few poems.
Bishop c.o.xe was the son of a noted Presbyterian minister, Rev. Samuel H.
c.o.x. He was born in Menham, N. J., in 1818. After his graduation from the University of the City of New York, he decided to leave the Presbyterian Church and to enter the Episcopalian fold. At the same time he added an "e" to the end of his name, much to his father's displeasure! He died in 1896 at the age of seventy-eight years.
The Hymn of a Consecrated Woman
More love to Thee, O Christ, More love to Thee; Hear Thou the prayer I make On bended knee; This is my earnest plea, More love, O Christ, to Thee, More love to Thee.
Once earthly joy I craved, Sought peace and rest; Now Thee alone I seek, Give what is best; This all my prayer shall be, More love, O Christ, to Thee, More love to Thee.
Then shall my latest breath Whisper Thy praise; This be the parting cry My heart shall raise; This still its prayer shall be, More love, O Christ, to Thee, More love to Thee.
Elizabeth Payson Prentiss, 1856.
A HYMN THAT GREW OUT OF SUFFERING
The fruits of a sanctified life are often seen long after the person who lived that life has ceased from earthly strivings. This was true in a very special sense of Elizabeth Payson Prentiss, author of "More love to Thee, O Christ." Although it is fifty years since Mrs. Prentiss went home to glory, her beautiful Christian life still radiates its spirit of trust and hope through her hymns and devotional writings.
As a child she was blessed with an unusual home. Her father, Edward Payson, was one of New England's most famous clergymen, revered and beloved by thousands because of his saintly life. It is said that after his death the name of "Edward Payson" was given in baptism to thousands of children whose parents had been blessed through his consecrated ministry.
The daughter, who was born in 1818, was much like her father. Spiritually minded from childhood, she possessed unusual gifts as a writer. When she was only sixteen years old she contributed verses and prose to "The Youth's Companion." Later she taught school at Portland, Me., her birthplace, and in Ipswich, Ma.s.s., and Richmond, Va., at each place being greatly beloved by her pupils.
In 1845 she became the bride of Rev. George L. Prentiss, who later was a professor in Union Theological Seminary, New York City.
Her home life was beautiful. Those who knew her best, described her as "a very bright-eyed little woman, with a keen sense of humor, who cared more to shine in her own happy household than in a wide circle of society."
But all the while she was carrying a heavy burden. Throughout life she was a sufferer, and scarcely knew what it meant to be well. Chronic insomnia added to her afflictions, but as her body languished under physical chastening her spirit rose above pain and tribulation, daily growing more radiant and beautiful. It was out of these trying experiences that she wrote her famous story, "Stepping Heavenward." The purpose of the book, as she herself explained, was "for strengthening and comforting other souls."
It met with instant success, more than 200,000 copies being sold. It also was translated into many foreign languages. Another story, "The Flower of the Family," likewise became very popular.
It was as poet and hymn-writer, however, that Mrs. Prentiss was destined to achieve fame. Her volume, "Religious Poems," numbering one hundred and twenty-three, breathes a spirit of fervent devotion to Christ. "To love Christ more," she said, "is the deepest need, the constant cry of my soul.... Out in the woods, and on my bed, and out driving, when I am happy and busy, and when I am sad and idle, the whisper keeps going up for more love, more love, more love!"
It is easy to understand how such a longing should finally find expression in her most famous hymn, "More love to Thee, O Christ." The hymn in reality was the prayer of her life. It was born in 1856 during a time of great physical suffering and spiritual anxiety. It was written in great haste, and the last stanza was left incompleted. Not until thirteen years later did Mrs. Prentiss show it to her husband. She then added a final line with a pencil and gave it to the printer, intending it only for private distribution. The following year, however, the "Great Revival" swept over America, and the hymn sprang into popularity everywhere.
When in August, 1878, the mortal remains of the sanctified singer were lowered into the grave, a company of intimate friends stood with bared heads and sang "More love to Thee, O Christ." The whole Christian world seemed to join in mourning her death. From far-off China came a message of sympathy to the bereaved husband in the form of a fan on which Christian Chinese had inscribed the famous hymn in native characters.
After her death the following verse was found written on the flyleaf of one of her favorite books:
One hour with Jesus! How its peace outweighs The ravishment of earthly love and praise; How dearer far, emptied of self to lie Low at His feet, and catch, perchance, His eye, Alike content when He may give or take, The sweet, the bitter, welcome for His sake.
A Hymn of the Sea
Jesus, Saviour, pilot me Over life's tempestuous sea; Unknown waves before me roll, Hiding rock and treacherous shoal; Chart and compa.s.s came from Thee: Jesus, Saviour, pilot me.
As a mother stills her child, Thou canst hush the ocean wild; Boisterous waves obey Thy will When Thou say'st to them, "Be still!"
Wondrous Sovereign of the sea, Jesus, Saviour, pilot me.
When at last I near the sh.o.r.e, And the fearful breakers roar 'Twixt me and the peaceful rest, Then, while leaning on Thy breast, May I hear Thee say to me, "Fear not, I will pilot thee."
Edward Hopper, 1871.
A FAMOUS HYMN WRITTEN FOR SAILORS
It does not surprise us that the writer of "Jesus, Saviour, pilot me" was the pastor of a sailors' church. Rev. Edward Hopper, who for many years was minister of the Church of Sea and Land in New York harbor, had in mind the daily life of the seamen attending his church when he wrote his famous lyric. A hymn on the theme of the stormy sea, picturing Jesus as the divine Pilot--this, he felt, would appeal to sailors and be a source of constant comfort and encouragement.
Perhaps Hopper got his idea from Charles Wesley. It was a common practice of the great English hymn-writer to compose hymns that were particularly adapted to the audiences he addressed. When he visited the men who worked in the Portland quarries in England, he wrote the hymn containing the lines:
Strike with the hammer of Thy Word, And break these hearts of stone.
In any event, Hopper's beautiful hymn at once sprang into popular use, not only with sailors, but with Christians everywhere. It appeared for the first time anonymously in "The Sailors' Magazine," but several hymn-books adopted it. It was not until 1880, nine years after it was published, however, that the author's name became known. In that year the anniversary of the Seamen's Friend Society was held in Broadway Tabernacle, New York City, and Hopper was asked to write a hymn for the occasion. He responded by producing "Jesus, Saviour, pilot me," and the secret was out.
Hopper wrote several other hymns, but only this one has lived. Like Edward Perronet, the author of "All hail the power of Jesus' Name," he was "a bird of a single song." We could have wished that the fires of inspired genius had continued to burn with both of these men. Here, however, apply the words: "Happy is the man who can produce one song which the world will keep on singing after its author shall have pa.s.sed away."
The author of "Jesus, Saviour, pilot me" was a child of the city. He was born in America's great metropolis, New York City, in the year 1818. His father was a merchant. His mother was a descendant of the Huguenots, the persecuted French Protestants. He was educated for the ministry, and, after serving several churches in other places, he returned to New York in 1870 to begin his work among the men who go down to the sea in ships.
He remained as pastor of the Church of Sea and Land until his death in 1888, and we scarcely need to add that his ministry was singularly successful.
The beautiful prayer in the third stanza of Hopper's hymn was answered in his own pa.s.sing. He was sitting in his study-chair, pencil in hand, when the final summons came. On the sheet before him were found some freshly written lines on "Heaven." Thus was fulfilled in his own death the beautiful prayer expressed in the final stanza of his hymn: