Part 35

But as we went flying along under the lofty cliffs and around the short curving niches that were cut out of the solid rocks, sometimes at a height that made one feel giddy to look down, we thought how the strength of the everlasting hills is our Father's, and that his wings overshadowed us by the way. We felt no fear of harm.

His poem Good-by, Old Rockies, was written at this time. He arrived home February 16. With the portion of his report written after he had returned from his California tour we close this chapter.

Never in all our past journeyings did our soul seem so thankful and joyful before God for the privilege of greeting all the dearly beloved ones at home once more. Oh, bless the name of the Lord. We knew not how to thank God enough nor scarcely how to act for the great joy of our heart. Let all the dear saints help us bless the name of the Lord for his wonderful care over us during the travel of over ten thousand miles since our departure last July.

Our flying abroad has not been in vain. All along the line of our tour God has been with us and saved souls at every stopping-place, with perhaps two exceptions. Thank Heaven also for the blessing of good health! How wonderfully he strengthened us to preach his everlasting gospel, often twice a day and sometimes on Sabbath three times, putting in as much as eight hours swift talk in one day, added to which was the earnest altar service and the care for immortal souls! We feel especially thankful to God for the grace of our Lord and Savior that we find resting upon all the beloved family.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] Desiring to trace the earlier history of the Gospel Trumpet, I have permitted the preceding chapter to overlap this one a few years.

[13] She relates that her consecration occurred in the house of an Elder Walker, and that so great was the power and manifestation of God in Brother Warner while he was praying for her that Walker and his wife through fright fled into another room, where he was found squatted in a corner. In Brother Warner's report of this trip he speaks of a meeting near Lacey's Lake (in Eaton or Barry County) as follows: "Was happy at this place to meet a people who have come out of various denominations, ignoring human creeds and sects and endeavoring to walk in the oneness of the Spirit."

[14] This vision is very similar to the one recorded in the Shepherd of Hermas, in the second century. It was a remarkable coincidence that while Sister Fisher had never heard of the vision of the Shepherd of Hermas, she and her husband had ordered the set of books known as the Apostolic Fathers (in which the Shepherd of Hermas is included), and on the same day of her vision the books were received and unpacked, and on looking into them her husband opened right at the vision in the Shepherd of Hermas. They were astonished to find that her vision was there recorded and explained as the church.

[15] Once after her second marriage, while living in Cincinnati, she wrote a letter to her boy, Sidney, who was in the care of his father. Brother Warner had been to visit her twice since their separation, and he was constrained to go again. So he took the boy and went to the city address as given in her letter. She happened not to be at the house just then. So the two walked about leisurely until she should return. While on the opposite side of the street from her house they saw her returning. She reached the house first and entered the hall and stood waiting for them. When they reached the door she railed out in terrible abuse on her former husband. That was his only reception. He had on his former visits to her felt the Spirit dictating that there was no hope of a reconciliation; and likewise on this occasion, as his child clung the closer to him, the Spirit said, "It is enough; leave off thy fond pursuit."

[16] In reference to this apparent instance of a person's being in a justified state while at the same time in possession of evil spirits it can be said, without attempting an explanation of whether such might be possible, that Brother Warner was always very particular to insist on justification as an essential condition to sanctification, and that if we knew all the circumstances in this case (allowing that the account may not be full) there probably would be no question in our minds.

[17] Brother Leininger relates that at this meeting a Dunkard minister drew his fist to strike him. A daughter of this preacher was a hired helper in Brother Leininger's family. She had obtained the experience of sanctification, which angered her father. As Brother Leininger was going out of the meeting-house, this man stood at the door ready to do violence to him. He drew back his fist to strike, but it seems his blow was rather misdirected, as his thumb nail grazed his own nose and tore loose a bit of skin, so that he went home bleeding and discomfited.

[18] A man who lived in the neighborhood said in one of the meetings that he was going to kick Brother Warner. As the latter was among the last to pass out of the building, this man lingered at the door, while the crowd was waiting to see him do the deed. As Brother Warner passed out he raised his foot to kick, but he did not kick. He was asked why he did not. His reply was, "I was afraid the Lord would kick me". This man accepted the truth and became one of the permanent fixtures in the church in that place.

[19] On the second Sunday the meeting was held in the grove. After the people had assembled a very frightful storm threatened, and people began to leave. Brother Warner stopped in the midst of his preaching, and with his hand lifted to heaven prayed God to scatter the storm and not let it hinder the meeting. He assured the people that they need not leave, that it would not rain. Some had begun to depart but stopped to see whether his prayer would be answered. It did not rain. There were other instances of this kind in Brother Warner's career.

[20] An interesting episode in connection with this trip is related by Bro. D. Leininger, of Beaver Dam, whose mother, known as Mother Krause, was at this time not expected to live. Mother Krause had for some cause held a slight grievance against Brother Warner. Early in December, on the night before she died, she declared she must see Brother Warner and begged to have him sent for. She was told that Brother Warner was over in LaGrange County, quite a distance away, and that if the Lord wanted her to see him he would spare her life until she should have that opportunity. Scarcely had this been said when Brother Warner arrived, to the surprize of all.

Two days before, where he had been holding meetings, he expressed the conviction that the Spirit bade him go to Beaver Dam. Accordingly it was decided to go, and he resumed his writing, at which he had been engaged, until the time to start. Perceiving that no preparations were being made he dropped his pen and asked the cause. He was told that the weather was inclement and that traveling would be disagreeable. He said, "Never mind the weather; the Lord can take care of that. The Lord says, 'Go to Beaver Dam'." Thus it was that he and his company were prompted to make the trip. Landing at Bro. William Ballenger's, they stayed over night. In the latter part of the night Brother Warner awoke Brother Ballenger and said he must go to see Mother Krause immediately.

Mother Krause died the following evening, but not before she was comforted by the presence of Brother Warner.

[21] In addition to this a letter had been received in the community, from Carthage, Mo., written by an opposer who misrepresented the saints as believers in amalgamation with the colored people, the purpose of the letter being, of course, to stir up prejudice.

[22] These meetings in the vicinity of Spring Hill were almost the author's first experience in gospel work. I was asked to join the company to supply a missing part in song, Mother Smith having dropped out previously. After arriving at Meridian it was some time before I could locate Brother Warner.

[23] To one unaccustomed it was hard to realize that opposition to the truth would take the form of a mob. We were quartered at the house of a Brother Smith. When the mob first came, Brother Warner asked if I wished to join him in his escape from the house. I then accompanied him to the pine woods some distance from the dwelling, and we remained there until we could hear that the mob had left. Bro. B. E. Warren had found a hiding-place under the house. The first company of men that came proved to be only a detachment, and the mob afterward came in greater force. This second time I remained in the house with the women folks, while Brothers Warner and Warren took the hiding under the building. The men wanted Brother Warner and lingered at the gate for some time talking with Brother Smith, who would not allow them within the gate except to see for themselves that Brother Warner was not in the house. Finally, after learning that I was present, they asked to see me, whereupon I went out and talked with them from the porch. They asked a number of questions and then left.

[Music: Sing It Again.

D. S. WARNER. B. E. WARREN.

1. Let us sing the name of Jesus, oh, that name we love so dear! Sweetest anthem 2. Sing the love-ly name of Jesus, oh, the precious Lamb of God! Lo, he died our 3. Sing, oh, sing the name of Jesus, he is wor-thy, he a-lone, Glo-ry, hon-or, 4. We will sing the name of Jesus all a-long the path of life, We will sing it,

earth or heaven ever breathed on mortal ear; In that name we have salvation, oh, how souls to ran-som, he redeemed us by his blood; Let the joy-ful o-ver-flow-ing of our and salvation, chant with angels round the throne; Sing it soft-ly in the Spir-it, sing it hal-le-lu-jah, 'mid the battle and the strife; We will sing it all to-geth-er when we

pre-cious is the flow! Sing, oh, sing the name of Jesus, for it makes us white as snow. hearts so full of love, Sound aloud the name of Jesus with the might-y host a-bove. loud as thunders roll, Sing with rapture, hallelujah, to the Lamb that saved my soul. meet upon that shore, Oh, we'll sing the name of Jesus, blessed name forevermore.

CHORUS.

Sing it a-gain,... sing it a-gain,... Sweetest of all the names that The precious name, the precious name,

an-gels sing a-bove,... Jesus, thy name's a fountain of redeeming love.... ]

XVII

THE MINISTRY OF SONG

Scarcely a spiritual movement in the history of Christianity has been without its service of song. The emotions, whether of victory or of devotion or of interest in the salvation of the lost, naturally flow out in singing. Far back in Biblical history we find songs of victory attending the triumphs of the people of God.

The Wesleyan reformation, through its gifted hymn-writer, Charles Wesley, furnished many of the standard spiritual hymns that are in use today. Witness also the immortal gospel hymns that originated with the Moody and Sankey revivals of the last century. Likewise the holiness movement of forty and fifty years ago was characterized by its holiness songs. And so in these last times, when we have come to the full standard of truth and the full development of the church independent of human creeds, when the "ransomed of the Lord" are returning over the "highway" prepared, what wonder is it that they should "come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads" (Isa. 35:10)? In no respect was the inception of the present reformation more marked than in its ministry of holy song.

For the writing of spiritual hymns Brother Warner had a wonderful endowment. It seems that the development of this gift came, however, only with his entrance upon the special work of the reformation. In his earliest writings we find no examples of hymns or poems of any merit. A few verses in his diary betray a lack of familiarity with the principles of prosody, or hymn-writing. Considering the little time he had to devote to the study of those principles, it is marvelous that he produced so many useful, and we may say excellent, hymns during the few short years of his intensive ministerial labor.

His first effort appears to have been the adaptation of existing hymns either by rearrangement of the words or by composing new words to fit the tunes. Thus we have the Glory, Halleluiah song with new words appearing in an early copy of the Gospel Trumpet. The chorus is familiar to all and we omit it.

On the mountain top of vision what a glory we behold! Eighteen hundred years of victory are tinging earth with gold; For the saints are overcoming with their testimony bold, The truth is marching on.

For the glory of the Father Jesus taught in Galilee, And preached the great salvation that delivers you and me; And a million voices shout it, "Redemption's full and free," The truth is marching on.

From the cabin on the prairie, from the vaulted city dome, From the dark and briny ocean where our sailor brothers roam, We hear the glad rejoicing like a happy harvest-home, Salvation's rolling on.

Eighteen hundred years of marching, eighteen hundred years of song, The Conqueror advances, and the time will not be long, When he shall come in glory and overthrow the wrong, Our God is marching on.

Nahum's chariots are speeding as the lightning on their way, And their flying torches tell us 'tis the preparation day; For the bride is getting ready and the Lord will not delay. The marriage feast is near.

Precious knowledge is increasing, evening light begins to glow, With the trump of full salvation many running to and fro; And the song of glory echoes, Christ has washed us white as snow, All glory to his name!

The long dispersed remnant of Jehovah's chosen race Are flying from all nations to their ancient dwelling-place; And the sinful world is surely in its closing-day of grace, The Lord is just at hand.

In the valley of decision there's a battle drawing near, Sectish Gog and Magog powers round about the saints appear; But our God is our munition and our hearts shall never fear, The victory is sure.

On the blissful heights of glory we will shout the battle o'er, And in the golden city we will join the Conqueror, And when the war is over, with the saints forevermore And crown him with all praise.

On the subject of the church--a prominent subject with him--we have Brother Warner's arrangement of Frances Ridley Havergal's poem, Church of God. We give but two stanzas.

Church of God, thou spotless virgin, Church of Christ for whom he died, Thou hast known no human founder, Jesus bought thee for his bride. Sanctified by God the Father, Built by Jesus Christ the Son, Tempered by the Holy Spirit, Like the Holy Three in one.

God himself has set the members In his body all complete, Organized by Jesus only, Oh, the union pure and sweet! Church of God, the angels marvel, At the music of thy song; Earth and hell in terror tremble As thy army moves along.

Another of the class of adapted hymns was one on the exercise of faith for sanctification, sung to the tune of Beulah Land.

Why should a doubt or fear arise, As this poor little all of mine I lay a living sacrifice, All on the altar, Christ divine.

=Chorus=

I'm fully thine, yes, wholly thine, All on the altar, Christ divine. The word of Jesus I believe, The Sanctifier I receive; All on the altar I abide, And Jesus says I'm sanctified.

Ah, not a moment more I'll doubt, And not a moment longer wait; He shed his blood to sanctify, He suffered death without the gate.

By faith I venture on his Word, My doubts are o'er, the vict'ry won; He said the altar sanctifies, I just believe him, and 'tis done.

Through all my soul I feel his power, And in the precious cleansing wave I wash my garments white this hour, And prove his utmost power to save.

Still another was The Hand of God on the Wall, of which we quote but two verses.

See, the great king of Babel in these latter days of time Makes a feast that's universal, all the nations drink her wine; As they eat, drink, and revel in her lofty steepled hall, God proclaims her desolation by his hand upon the wall.

How the nations are drunken and are sporting in their shame! Even scoffing at our Savior and profane his holy name; Far more blind than Belshazzar, who so trembled with appal, They still riot on to judgment, with their doom upon the wall.

Brother Warner was not gifted in writing tunes. This necessary counterpart was supplied in J. C. Fisher and his wife, Allie R., also in H. R. Jeffrey, a brother who lived in northern Indiana. Fisher frequently wrote both words and music, as did also Jeffrey. One of the first hymns of which both words and music were original with this reformation was The All Cleansing Fountain, by J. C. Fisher. The first stanza and chorus are as follows:

There's a fountain opened in the house of God, Where the vilest of sinners may go And all test the power of that crimson flood, Of the blood that makes whiter than snow.

=Chorus=

Praise the Lord, I am washed In the all-cleansing blood of the Lamb, And my robes are whiter than the driven snow, I am washed in the blood of the Lamb.

Another early one was H. R. Jeffrey's Songs of Victory, of which the first stanza and chorus will also here suffice.

Songs of victory bringing Unto the Lord most high, Victory, victory singing, Let all the saints draw nigh; For there can be no failure While Jesus leads the van, And victory, victory, victory, Is heard on every hand.

=Chorus=

Vict'ry shall be the chorus, Vict'ry our watchword and song, Jesus is marching before us, Leading his army along.

A hymn that breathes a deep spirit of devotion was Brother Warner's I Ought to Love My Savior, music by Fisher. There were five stanzas in all. We give it with music at the beginning of Chapter IX of this book.

I ought to love my Savior, He loved me long ago, Looked on my soul with favor, When deep in guilt and woe; And though my sin had grieved him, His father's law had crossed, Love drew him down from heaven To seek and save the lost.

I ought to love my Savior, He bore my sin and shame; From glory to the manger, On wings of love he came. He trod this earth in sorrow, Endured the pains of hell, That I should not be banished, But in his glory dwell.

We shall refer, in what follows, only to Brother Warner's hymns. One that sung of the times as being prophetic was entitled Prophetic Truth, and is shown with music at the beginning of Chapter XIII.

'Twas sung by the poets, foreseen in the Spirit, A time of refreshing is near; When creeds and divisions would fall to demerit, And saints in sweet union appear.

=Chorus=

Oh, glory to Jesus! we hail the bright day, And high on our banner salvation display, The mists of confusion are passing away.

We stand in the glory that Jesus has given, The moon as the dayspring doth shine; The light of the sun is now equal to seven, So bright is the glory divine.

Now filled with the Spirit, and clad in the armor Of light and omnipotent truth, We'll testify ever and Jesus we'll honor, And stand from sin Babel aloof.

The prophet's keen vision, transpiercing the ages, Beheld us to Zion return; We'll sing of our freedom, though Babylon rages, We'll shout as her city doth burn.

The fig-tree is budding, the "evening" is shining, We welcome the wonderful light! We look for the Savior, for time is declining, Eternity's looming in sight.

As he saw the church of God emerge out of confusion into the brightness which should characterize the evening of time, he wrote the following, which is given with music at the beginning of Chapter I.

Brighter days are sweetly dawning, Oh the glory looms in sight! For the cloudy day is waning, And the evening shall be light.

Misty fogs, so long concealing All the hills of mingled night, Vanish, all their sin revealing, For the evening shall be light.

Lo, the ransomed are returning, Robed in shining crystal white, Leaping, shouting, home to Zion, Happy in the evening light.

Free from Babel, in the Spirit, Free to worship God aright, Joy and gladness we're receiving, Oh, how sweet this evening light!

Halleluiah! saints are singing, Vict'ry in Jehovah's might; Glory, glory, keep it ringing, We are saved in evening light.

Another hymn of the return, and also embodying Sister Fisher's vision of the stone tower, was the following:

We are coming, halleluiah! we are coming home to God; Jesus only we're beholding, who has washed us in his blood: We are marching back to Salem at the trumpet's joyful sound, And we're building God's own temple on it's ancient holy ground.

=Chorus=

We are coming, Oh, we're coming, with the glory in the soul! Grace we're shouting as we're bringing Christ, the headstone we extol; Though as captives long we've suffered, we do feel the royal blood, And we're rising to our freedom in the fulness of our God.

While we're working, we are fighting all the mighty foes around; Tho' in wrath they do oppose us we will not desert the ground. O my God, do thou remember all those wicked plotting crews, Hear them saying in derision, "Now what do these feeble Jews?"

Thou art coming, mighty Jesus, in the power of thy grace; Now our souls break forth in singing at the smiling of thy face: Fear of sect, a mount of terror, thou hast made an open plain, And the misty fogs of error all have vanished in thy name.

Our foundation strong is Jesus, he the topmost, crowning stone; Halleluiah! we adore him, king upon his living throne: And his crimson glory streaming through each crystal stone below Tints the whole ecstatic temple with the beauty of its glow.

Oh, the glory of this temple far exceeds the former one! All its stones are bound together in Love's dear eternal Son: In this building, what a wonder! there's a dwelling-place for me; Yes, thy beauty, O my Savior! I shall here forever see.

Many of his hymns, as is usually the case with hymn-writers, were prompted by some particular occasion or suggestion. Thus in connection with the terrific furnace trials at Bucyrus, Ohio, in 1883, he wrote:

Why should a mortal man complain At his trials in this wicked world? Nay, let us thank God's holy name For all his love o'er us unfurled.

=Chorus=

O Jesus, bear our souls above Each wave of trouble that we meet! Then in the furnace of thy love We'll sing thy praise with joy complete.

Oh, why should any one oppressed Forget the promise of our God! To thee each providence is blessed If in love thou bear the chastening rod.

Oh, who would cast away the gold We have gathered in the furnace flame! And who would wish again the dross Here purged in our Redeemer's name?