The Story of the Hymns and Tunes Part 74

This sweet hymn for mourners, known to us here in Jane Borthwick's translation, was written by Benjamin Schmolke (or Schmolk) late in the 17th century. He was born at Brauchitzchdorf, in Silesia, Dec. 21, 1672, and received his education at the Labau Gymnasium and Leipsic University. A sermon preached while a youth, for his father, a Lutheran pastor, showed such remarkable promise that a wealthy man paid the expenses of his education for the ministry. He was ordained and settled as pastor of the Free Church at Schweidnitz, Silesia, in which charge he continued from 1701 till his death.

Schmolke was the most popular hymn-writer of his time, author of some nine hundred church pieces, besides many for special occasions. Withal he was a man of exalted piety and a pastor of rare wisdom and influence.

His death, of paralysis, occurred on the anniversary of his wedding, Feb. 12, 1737.

My Jesus, as Thou wilt, Oh may Thy will be mine!

Into Thy hand of love I would my all resign.

Thro' sorrow or thro' joy Conduct me as Thine own, And help me still to say, My Lord, Thy will be done.

The last line is the refrain of the hymn of four eight-line stanzas.

_THE TUNE._

"Suss.e.x," by Joseph Barnby, a plain-song with a fine harmony, is good congregational music for the hymn.

But "Jewett," one of Carl Maria Von Weber's exquisite flights of song, is like no other in its intimate interpretation of the prayerful words.

We hear Luther's "bird in the heart" singing softly in every inflection of the tender melody as it glides on. The tune, arranged by Joseph Holbrook, is from an opera--the overture to Weber's Der Freischutz--but one feels that the gentle musician when he wrote it must have caught an inspiration of divine trust and peace. The wish among the last words he uttered when dying in London of slow disease was, "Let me go back to my own (home), and then G.o.d's will be done." That wish and the sentiment of Schmolke's hymn belong to each other, for they end in the same way.

My Jesus, as Thou wilt: All shall be well for me; Each changing future scene I gladly trust with Thee.

Straight to my home above I travel calmly on, And sing in life or death My Lord, Thy will be done.

"I CANNOT ALWAYS TRACE THE WAY."

In later years, when funeral music is desired, the employment of a male quartette has become a favorite custom. Of the selections sung in this manner few are more suitable or more generally welcomed than the tender and trustful hymn of Sir John Bowring, rendered sometimes in Dr. d.y.k.es'

"Almsgiving," but better in the less-known but more flexible tune composed by Howard M. Dow--

I cannot always trace the way Where Thou, Almighty One, dost move, But I can always, always say That G.o.d is love.

When fear her chilling mantle flings O'er earth, my soul to heaven above As to her native home upsprings, For G.o.d is love.

When mystery clouds my darkened path, I'll check my dread, my doubts reprove; In this my soul sweet comfort hath That G.o.d is love.

Yes, G.o.d is love. A thought like this Can every gloomy thought remove, And turn all tears, all woes to bliss For G.o.d is love.

The first line of the hymn was originally, "'Tis seldom I can trace the way."

Howard M. Dow has been many years a resident of Boston, and organist of the Grand Lodge of Freemasons at the Tremont St. (Masonic) Temple.

_WEDDING._

Time was when hymns were sung at weddings, though in America the practice was never universal. Marriage, among Protestants, is not one of the sacraments, and no ma.s.ses are chanted for it by ecclesiastical ordinance. The question of music at private marriages depends on convenience, vocal or instrumental equipment, and the general drift of the occasion. At public weddings the organ's duty is the "Wedding March."

To revive a fashion of singing at home marriages would be considered an oddity--and, where civil marriages are legal, a superfluity--but in the religious ceremony, just after the prayer that follows the completion of the nuptial formula, it will occur to some that a hymn would "tide over"

a proverbially awkward moment. Even good, quaint old John Berridge's lines would happily relieve the embarra.s.sment--besides reminding the more thoughtless that a wedding is not a mere piece of social fun--

Since Jesus truly did appear To grace a marriage feast O Lord, we ask Thy presence here To make a wedding guest.

Upon the bridal pair look down Who now have plighted hands; Their union with Thy favor crown And bless the nuptial bands

In purest love these souls unite That they with Christian care May make domestic burdens light By taking each a share.

Tune, "Lanesboro," Mason.

A wedding hymn of more poetic beauty is the one written by Miss Dorothy Bloomfield (now Mrs. Gurney), born 1858, for her sister's marriage in 1883.

O perfect Love, all human thought transcending, Lowly we kneel in prayer before Thy throne That their's may be a love which knows no ending Whom Thou forevermore dost join in one.

O perfect Life, be Thou their first a.s.surance Of tender charity and steadfast faith, Of patient hope and quiet, brave endurance, With childlike trust that fears nor pain nor death.

Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow, Grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife, And to their day the glorious unknown morrow That dawns upon eternal love and life.

Tune by Joseph Barnby, "O Perfect Love."

_FRUITION DAY._

"LO! HE COMES WITH CLOUDS DESCENDING."

Thomas Olivers begins one of his hymns with this line. The hymn is a Judgment-day lyric of rude strength and once in current use, but now rarely printed. The "Lo He Comes," here specially noted, is the production of John Cennick, the Moravian.

Lo! He comes with clouds descending Once for favored sinners slain, Thousand thousand saints attending Swell the triumph of His train.

Hallelujah!

G.o.d appears on earth to reign.

Yea, amen; let all adore Thee High on Thy eternal throne.

Saviour, take the power and glory, Claim the kingdom for thine own; O come quickly; Hallelujah! Come, Lord, come.

_THE TUNES._

Various composers have written music to this universal hymn, but none has given it a choral that it can claim as peculiarly its own. "Brest,"

Lowell Mason's plain-song, has a limited range, and runs low on the staff, but its solemn chords are musical and commanding. As much can be said of the tunes of Dr. d.y.k.es and Samuel Webbe, which have more variety. Those who feel that the hymn calls for a more ornate melody will prefer Madan's "Helmsley."

"LO! WHAT A GLORIOUS SIGHT APPEARS."

The great Southampton bard who wrote "Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood" was quick to kindle at every reminder of Fruition Day.

Lo! what a glorious sight appears To our believing eyes!