Part 36

Once when a new printing-press was installed in the Office (he always rejoiced when there was an increase of printing equipment), he wrote the following in anticipation of the Trumpet's being raised to louder blasts. See the music at the beginning of Chapter XIV.

Onward moves the great eternal In the order of his plan; Louder, nearer rolls the thunder Of his awful word to man.

Since by sin this earth was blighted God has whispered of his love. Dreams and visions by his prophets Breathed of mercy from above.

Louder speaks his love in Jesus, Heaven sweetly chants his fame; Earth receives its glorious Savior, Halleluiah to his name!

Yet the world is wrapped in slumber; Louder raise the Trumpet's blast; Oh, in mercy let it thunder, Ere the day of mercy's past!

In the cages of deception Souls are pining to be free; Quickly sound the proclamation Of the glorious jubilee.

The hymn, Perishing Souls at Stake, was one of the early productions. We quote this hymn and its history as it appeared in the Trumpet of Dec. 15, 1885. The music will be found at the head of Chapter XVI.

Perishing souls at stake today! Says the banner of Christ unfurled; Pleading in love for help to save Blood-bought sinners o'er all the world.

Perishing souls at stake we see, Yet the Savior has died for all; Go and invite them earnestly, Some will surely obey the call.

Perishing souls at stake today, There's a famine in all the land; Many are dying for the bread Freely given by Jesus' hand.

Perishing souls at stake, go tell What the Savior has done for you, How he redeemed your soul from hell, And is able to save them, too.

Perishing souls at stake we know, Oh, do pity the sinner's fate! Brother and sister, will you go, Give them warning before too late.

Perishing souls at stake today, Can you tarry for earthly dross? Fly to the rescue, don't delay, Bring the needy to Jesus' cross.

The foregoing song was suggested to our mind by a solemn vision given to Bro. C. Ogan, of Latty, Ohio, on the night previous to September 19. He saw Christ displaying a banner upon which was written these words: "Perishing Souls at Stake." That day we had a very solemn meeting at Jerry City, Ohio. The Spirit of God was present, making imperative calls for workers in the vineyard. Our soul was burdened with an awful sense of perishing souls at stake. All hearts were melted before the Lord. A number acknowledged the solemn commission. Dear Brother Ogan was one of them, relating this solemn and beautiful vision.

We pray that all who that day confessed the call of God may go forward, lest that "woe is me" be upon them, and perishing souls be lost for whom the blessed Savior died. In about all the meetings this fall the same great burden has come upon our soul for men and women of God to go forth and hold up the light of his saving truth. O ye that have the real fire of God in your souls, can you tarry at home to watch a few earthly effects, when there is such a sore famine in all the land! And you who have found the true salvation of Christ Jesus are the only ones that can bring the living bread to others. College bread will not do. 'Dumb dogs can not bark'; Babylon priests are full of darkness, and souls are dying all around. Oh! if you have any gratitude in your hearts for what Christ has done for you, go and tell others, and some will surely receive the joyful tidings. Oh, how sad this world with no gospel but the wretched stuff given by Babylon priests! And most everywhere there are at least one or two honest souls who long for the light. Can you stay at home for the sordid dust of earth and let them perish? Oh, fly to the rescue, don't delay; bring the needy to Jesus Christ!

After a few years both Fisher and Jeffrey dropped out of the ranks and ceased to contribute their melodies to Brother Warner's hymns. In their place God provided Brother B. E. Warren. No sooner did this young brother become a part of Brother Warner's company than he began to display a marvelous gift for writing melodies. In the years that followed he filled a large place as a writer of music, and he also learned to write the words as well.

When the company were on their Western trip in the autumn of 1887, Brother Warner wrote the hymn Sowing the Seed, in anticipation of their having to brave the chilling blasts of the winter which was before them.

Unheeding winter's cruel blast, We venture heaven's seed to cast; Both late and early plant the truth In aged hearts and tender youth.

Shall we be found with only leaves When Jesus comes to gather sheaves? Nay, sowing daily o'er the land, We'll come with joyful sheaves in hand.

Nor is the precious labor hard, Its glory is its own reward; We plant in hearts of grim despair A life that blooms as Eden fair.

Oh, were this life the utmost span, The closing destiny of man. No toil could half so blessed prove As sowing seeds of peace and love.

But heaven's bright eternal years Have bottled up our sowing tears; There we shall greet in holy bliss The souls we turned to righteousness.

Then sow the seed in every field, And grace will bring the golden yield; We soon shall sing the joyful song, And shout the blessed harvest-home.

The song Who Will Suffer With Jesus? had its origin while the company were in the South in the winter of 1890-91. It was written at the time a mob assaulted the house in which Brother Warner was preaching and a sharp, flying missile struck him on the side of the face, causing it to bleed.

Who will suffer with the Savior, Take the little that remains Of the cup of tribulation Jesus drank in dying pains?

Who will offer soul and body On the altar of our God; Leaving self and worldly mammon, Take the path that Jesus trod?

Who will suffer for the gospel, Follow Christ without the gate; Take the martyrs for example, With them glory at the stake?

Oh, for consecrated service 'Mid the din of Babel strife! Who will dare the truth to herald At the peril of his life?

Soon the conflict will be over, Crowns await the firm and pure; Forward, brethren, work and suffer, Faithful to the end endure.

Lord, we fellowship thy passion, Gladly suffer shame and loss; With thy blessing pain is pleasure, We will glory in thy cross.

One of the prominent features of the reformation was the sweet, heavenly singing of the saints. Wherever Brother Warner's company went the people were attracted by the singing. They were not what the world would call "trained singers"; they were not even adept at reading music. But God blessed the singing, so that the songs, sung in the element of the Spirit, were simply heavenly. At the time the company held the first meeting at Walkerton, Ind. a theatrical troupe came to the town. So many people had flocked to Brother Warner's meetings that the house was packed and there were not many left to attend the theatrical concert. The troupe, not having a sufficient audience, came to the place of meeting and gave some instrumental music just outside in order to attract the people. Of course it interfered with the preaching. Brother Warner said, "Sing a song." Sister Nannie Kigar, who was the soprano of the company and always ready with a suitable selection, started a song. The people decided to remain. Many and powerful were the effects of these heaven-inspired songs.

Mention has been made already of the instance where the cattle listened and gazed with wonder when Brother Warner's company were singing at a place where they had stopped in the edge of the woods for dinner. Brother Warren says that once when they were traveling on the road and singing they were passing a field where there were cattle, horses, and other live stock, and that all of these followed along inside the fence until they reached the corner of the field, seeming to be attracted by the wonderful charm of the singing.

At the time the company visited St. James, Mo., on the second Western tour, Brother Warner wrote the hymn Sing it Again, at a place where they were stopping in the country. Brother Warren then composed the music, and they began singing it. When the time came for them to be taken to the train to leave that part of the country, it was decided that they should be conveyed to Jefferson City in order to afford a little country ride for a change. They camped out the first night, and reached Jefferson City the second day, early in the afternoon. They decided to visit the State prison, and as the weather was warm they left their wraps in the baggage-room of the railroad-station until they should return. When they came back the baggage-room was locked, and the temperature was falling and becoming just a little chilly. Everything was quiet around; not a sound could be heard except the clicking of the telegraph instrument in the office. The train they were to take would not be due until in the night, and as the waiting-room was open they gathered a little fuel and built a fire. When this was done Brother Warner gave a little jump (he always seemed happy enough to jump at any time) and said, "Let us have a song." Naturally enough they sang the new song, Sing it Again. Soon the door opened and in came the operator, and then shortly, almost before they were aware of it, a number of others had gathered and were listening intently. When the song was ended, the operator said, "This reminds me of my childhood days; won't you sing that song again?" They sang it again, and then Brother Warner, as his manner frequently was, took out his Bible and said, "Perhaps you would not object to a little of the Word of God." The operator had to attend to his office duties, but the others listened. Next testimonies were proposed. And so they had a precious little meeting in the waiting-room of the railroad-station, and the new song had already begun to be useful. We here reproduce the words. The music is given at the head of Chapter XVII.

Let us sing the name of Jesus, oh, that name we love so dear! Sweetest anthem earth or heaven ever breathed on mortal ear; In that name we have salvation, oh, how precious is the flow! Sing, oh, sing the name of Jesus, for it makes us white as snow!

Sing the lovely name of Jesus, oh, the precious Lamb of God! Lo, he died our souls to ransom, he redeemed us by his blood: Let the joyful overflowing of our hearts so full of love Sound aloud the name of Jesus with the mighty host above.

Sing, oh, sing the name of Jesus, he is worthy, he alone, Glory, honor, and salvation chant with angels round the throne; Sing it softly in the Spirit, sing it loud as thunders roll, Sing with rapture, halleluiah, to the Lamb that saved my soul.

Yes, we'll sing the name of Jesus, 'tis the only name that's giv'n That can save a guilty sinner, and no other under heav'n. Oh, we love the name of Jesus, his salvation we adore! Blessed be the name of Jesus, we will sing it more and more.

We will sing the name of Jesus all along the path of life, We will sing it, halleluiah, mid the battle and the strife; We will sing it all together when we meet upon that shore, Oh, we'll sing the name of Jesus, blessed name forevermore!

I shall never forget the time when Brother Warner and his company first came to my father's home in northwestern Illinois. I have always considered it the brightest event in my life's career. Today, as memory carries me back to that time, and I imagine myself in that same situation, I have indescribable feelings. They arrived on a Saturday afternoon in the spring of 1888. My father and I had gone to engage a schoolhouse for the meetings when the company arrived. My sister had been converted the previous year; but during her attendance at school through the winter she had become somewhat cold spiritually and so had no particular pleasure in anticipating the coming of "Warner's band," as she had heard them called. When the company arrived in the house, wearied with much travel, they seemed particularly to enjoy the sense of home, and they sang the hymn,

Home, home, brightest and fairest, Hope, hope, sweetest and best.

My sister simply melted. That song introduction was enough. Then they had prayer, and their hearts welled up in thankfulness to God for his blessings and care over them. If there ever were men who could pray, Brother Warner was one of them.

After my father and I returned home, my sister and mother wanted me to hear the company sing, and of course another song was requested. They sang this time, The All-cleansing Fountain, and it seemed to be the sweetest singing I had ever heard. During their stay in our home Brother Warren did some composing at the organ, and this seemed wonderful to me. I had never seen such people, whose countenances were aglow with the victory of salvation and who were so filled with praise and song.

While the company were at our home we decided to give them a little outing by taking them across the Mississippi to the city of Clinton, Iowa, then remarkable for its lumber trade, and for having eight large sawmills, one of them the largest sawmill in the world. As we were driving along the road and singing The All-cleansing Fountain, a neighbor who was working in a field near by but who on account of an intervening ridge could not see us, heard the song. Not knowing from whence the sound came he concluded it was angel music, and when he went to his house he declared to his wife that he had heard the angels sing.

A large class of songs that were used were such as expressed victory and worship. Another large class were those of invitation and warning to sinners. In the later books, about all topics that are useful in Christian work were represented.

Songs of Victory was the name of the first book published. It was issued in 1885. This was followed in 1888 by Anthems from the Throne. The third book was Echoes from Glory, published in 1893. Following these a new book of songs has been issued about every four to six years.

XVIII

POETIC INSPIRATIONS

To reflect on Brother Warner's career is to marvel at the accomplishment that was crowded into a few short years. He was active in several callings at one time. As a minister with the heavy burden of the gospel upon him he labored hard, preaching often and being everywhere in demand. On occasions he preached for three and even four hours in one discourse, the audience as well as the preacher forgetful of the passing time. Though in physical endurance he was weak, yet there were perhaps few speakers who could wear so well in the labor of the pulpit. His private work of instructing seekers, and his ministrations for the sick, requiring the exercise of prayer and faith, absorbed his strength and occupied much time. As editor of the paper, to which he contributed articles, many of them doctrinal and requiring study, and for which he had to edit articles written by others, it was necessary that he spend much time with the pen. His correspondence also was considerable, and as stenographers were not so available then as now he had to do his writing with his own hand. Where would he get time for study and prayer, and for writing hymns or poetry? And yet he accomplished all of these.

In the latter years of his life he apparently was declining to some extent in ministerial vigor; but as a writer his productions seemed only to grow richer with his years. Had his life been prolonged to the full period of what is commonly expected of man, he would have given to the world some of the finest poetical productions. His poems are not at all inferior, though written during a strenuous career.

In 1890, he collected and published his poems in a book entitled Poems of Grace and Truth. It contained 343 pages. With the exception of a small book entitled Bible Readings, and the limp-cover binding of a song-book, this book of poems was the first cloth-bound book ever made at the Gospel Trumpet publishing office. The press-work is imperfect owing to the poor stereotyped plates from which it was printed. A number of beautiful poems were written since the publication of this book and therefore were not included in it.

His longest poem was his Meditations on the Prairie. It occupies eighty-four pages of the book mentioned and is written in ten-syllable iambic verse. It touchingly describes with beautiful imagery the author's acquaintance with and his subsequent marriage to Sarah A. Keller, and the circumstances that led to her deception and separation from him. His own description of its origin, as given in the preface to the poem, is as follows:

In the summer of 1873, the author took a mission-field in Nebraska, much of which had just been settled the previous year. My companion had died one year previously. Just before going West a correspondence was arranged with Sister Sarah A. Keller, which soon kindled into a glowing flame of love. A year later I returned and we were happily joined in marriage. With her precious company I came again to this blooming plain, where one year was sweetened with the most transporting conjugal bliss. In 1875 we returned to Ohio, where life and labors flowed on in uninterrupted happiness, until in 1884 the dear object of our love was deceived by the wily foe and torn from our soul, a crisis that threatened our frail life, and which we survived only by the grace of God.

In the fall of 1887, while on an extensive Western tour, we came into a new part of the great prairie, which strikingly reminded us of our travels on the new plains twelve and thirteen years before. There the Spirit touched our mind with vivid recollections of that cherished one, who made for us this prairie a blissful Eden. An inspired imagination also portrayed what dire wreck of our own life might have ensued from the crisis of broken love had not the grace of God averted the sad issue. This cast us on the sod beneath a load of gratitude, where the poem was inspired as our heart's humble tribute for Heaven's pity and sustaining arm.

A quotation from this poem appears in Chapter XV of this book.

Brother Warner was a great admirer of nature as the handiwork of God, and several of his poems are on nature subjects. What we give here are in most cases but selections from the poems named, the omissions being indicated by stars.

AUTUMN

Gone is the spring with all its flowers, And gone the summer's verdant show; Now strewn beneath the autumn bowers, The yellow leaves await the snow.

Behold, this earth so cold and gray An emblem of our life appears; Its blooming robes sink to decay, To rise again in round of years.

Earth cheers its winter sleep with dreams Of springtime's warmth and gentle rain, When she shall wake to murmuring streams And songs of merry birds again.

So we come forth like springtime flowers, Soon into manhood's summer go, Then, like the leaves of autumn bowers, Lie down beneath the winter's snow.

And there our bodies slumb'ring wait Till time's short winter day has fled, And Christ, our Lord and Advocate, Shall come again to wake the dead.

Then winter's storm and summer's heat Shall end in everlasting spring, And all immortal we shall meet, And round the throne of glory sing.

NEW YEAR'S GREETING

January 1, 1890

Another year has come and gone So swiftly flows unceasing time. Forever on and on and on, With sorrow's groan and merry chime. Commingled in its surging tide, Time bears along upon its flood Poor human wrecks by sin destroyed; Yet o'er its stream, the hand of God Still bends his bow of hope divine; Its hues of love in beauty shine.

Another year of hope and fear Has swept around its dial-plate, And with it thousands disappear To higher bliss or awful fate. God grant to us who yet survive A heart of fervent gratitude, And grace that we may wholly live To glorify the Source of good; Then, should this be our final year, We'll sink to rest without a fear.

Another year hath brought its store In rich profusion at our feet, That we should, heart and soul, adore Our Maker's love so broad and deep. And have you cast your bread upon The waters of the passing year, In hope that what your hands have done Will in much future good appear? Then as thy faith so shall it be; In coming days thine eyes shall see.

* * * * *

The poem To the Alien, is addressed to his wife, Sarah, who, early in the year 1884, through the influence of a spiritual deceiver, as already stated, left her husband.

TO THE ALIEN

Three years have fled since billows wild Wrecked our domestic bark, And chilled your love for husband, child, Mid waters cold and dark.

"How wonderful the mystery," Astonished men exclaim, "That hearts so knit in unity Could ever part in twain!"

* * * * *

We suffered some adversities, A portion all must find, When compassed round by devotees Whose creeds we'd left behind.

When pressing to the harvest-field Of everlasting truth, And just before the golden yield, Alas! you turned aloof.

Oh, how I wish that you could share In these ecstatic days, Enjoy the light of God so pure, And help to sing his praise!

My soul had longed for more of God, More glory in the cross; But never dreamed that it must come Through such a bitter loss.

I can not chide his providence, But count it all the best; For in each storm of violence I sink to sweeter rest.

* * * * *

'Twas not a rival filled thine eyes With colored fancies rare; But Satan came in deep disguise, And wrought the dread affair.

* * * * *

We still are joined in Eden's bond Of matrimony true; While life endures, yet undissolved It binds my heart to you.

No court of man nor Satan's power Can disannul the tie; Though spirits rent, in evil hour, "One flesh" are you and I.

No face so fair, no heart so warm, Upon this verdant sod, Shall alienate with rival charm The wife received of God.

So I will walk with God alone, And bless his holy name, Till he shall bring the alien home To dwell in love again.

In vision of the night I saw-- And woke to joyful praise-- True nature reimprint her law That ruled thy former days.

From nature's pure affections then Grace led to love divine; Then heaven's bliss alone can bound Our mutual joy sublime.

God grant that this may real prove Through coming years of time, And in his shining courts above, An endless crown be thine.

The hand of God alone can take The broken chords of love And knit them in a union sweet As love's pure reign above.

Here I will close my present rhyme; But ever pray for you, That God may give you back again The heart of woman true.

Then touched by sweet seraphic strains, With all the heavenly throng, I'll shout aloud my Savior's praise, And sing another song.

TO MY DEAR SIDNEY

The heart that feels a father's love And swells with love's return, Will kindly bear this overflow Toward my only son.

Yes, Sidney's love so blent with mine, A poem shall employ-- A token left to coming time That father loved his boy.