CHAPTER IV

SERENADING THE SOUL WITH SONG

"In London Town there are always queer, unexpected things to be seen and heard. The other day my wife and I went out to lunch, and we were waiting in a queue. Suddenly above the noise of the busy street we heard a tin whistle being played. The tune was '_O Jesus, I have promised_'--and it was played very well, too. This was followed by ... '_Jerusalem the golden_.' I looked, but couldn't see the musician.

"The queue moved up, and I was afraid I wasn't going to see the tin whistle expert at all. But just as we got level with the door I did see him. He was now giving a spirited rendering of '_The Church's one foundation_'--and he was a grey-headed old Negro. He wore what had been a very smartly cut officer's tunic. The tune finished, the old fellow sat down on a doorstep.

"Where, I wondered, had he learned these hymn-tunes? And where had that Lascar seaman in the street in West Hartlepool learnt '_There's a Friend for Little Children_?'--for he was humming it as he passed me by." --_F. H. E. in "The Methodist Recorder," London._

Nothing is more beautiful than the sight of a company of Christians singing their hymns of praise. --_Roy L. Smith._

That Was Yesterday!

"Why, Samuel!" exclaimed the surprised wife of the beloved Bishop Samuel Fallows, one morning.

The story as related by Dr. Roy L. Smith referred to a night when the ageing bishop returned from a rather stormy meeting. Harsh things had been said, and he appeared thoroughly discouraged. Entering the home, his wife, with womanly instinct, sensed the situation. The bishop even went to bed without partaking of his usual cup of hot milk.

Full of understanding sympathy, his wife expected him to remain in bed a little later than usual, and possibly have breakfast taken to him. But when she quietly entered his room, he was pulling the "weights of his ancient exercise machine." Meanwhile he was singing:

"Come, Thou Fount of every blessing; Tune my heart to sing Thy grace, Streams of mercy, never ceasing, Call for songs of loudest praise."

All this was so unexpected that the good and anxious woman, in her astonishment, could only say, "Why, Samuel!"

"Why what?" questioned the bishop, without missing a beat in the rhythm of his morning exercise.

"Why that board meeting last night. I thought you would stay in bed this morning, and try to get a bit of rest."

"That board meeting, what about it?" he asked, as he came to a halt.

"Why it must have been terrible. You came home utterly spent and discouraged," was the reply.

Resuming his exercise, the bishop quietly remarked, "O that was yesterday."

The gentle man would not permit what happened yesterday to take from him his praiseful song.

Therefore as he continued to pull his exercise machine he resumed the singing of his hymn:

"Here I raise mine Ebenezer; Hither by Thy help I'm come; And I hope by Thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home."

Song of the Hidden Singer

A woman of culture was standing in a large London store waiting to be served. The customers were many, and some of them became impatient. Tired and irritated, occasionally someone would make an unpleasant remark.

Somewhere up toward the roof, a workman, invisible to the one who narrated the incident, was busy making structural alterations. Said Mrs. G. Elsie Harrison: "As he worked above us, like some ham-strung lark, he carolled." The notes that fluttered down to her were:

"Tell me the old, old story Of unseen things above, Of Jesus and His glory, Of Jesus and His love."

Old memories were revived by the song. Mrs. Harrison thus indicated her own experience: "In one moment the arrogant shoppers had vanished. I was at home again, and saw my mother at the piano, and heard the music which only she could make to sound so reverent. Her generation really meant it when they sang:

"'Tell me the story softly, With earnest tones and grave; Remember, I'm the sinner Whom Jesus came to save.'"

To them it was a real sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, and the music matched the mood.

Popular with older people, this hymn of Miss Katherine Hankey, an English lady, has also been a favorite with children. The tune to which it is mostly sung was composed by William H. Doane, an American musician.

The London singer was hidden, and singing just for himself. But the song brought back beautiful memories to at least one woman amid the crowd of shoppers.

Americans Sang with the Japanese Lady

A lady from Japan, Madame Yoshika Saitó, Tokyo, was one of the distinguished visitors to the historic Uniting Conference of The Methodist Church in Kansas City, May, 1939. She was introduced by Dr. James R. Houghton, Boston University, who had charge of the music; and Dr. Houghton announced that the visitor would sing "Alleluia" by Mozart.

Dr. Robert Bond, a former president of the Methodist Conference, England, was so impressed by the Japanese lady that he wrote back to one of the periodicals of his native England saying: "Madame Saitó, both by her personal charm and her exquisite voice, captured the Conference.

Madame Saitó, responsive to the purpose and the spiritual atmosphere of the Uniting Conference, then followed with the verse of a hymn, which she sang both in her native tongue and also in English:

"I need Thee every hour, Most gracious Lord; No tender voice like Thine Can peace afford."

Bishop Charles L. Mead, the presiding officer, suggested that the Uniting Conference would probably like to sing the verse and the chorus with the visitor. Soon the Japanese lady, the nine hundred delegates, and thousands of visitors were singing together:

"I need Thee, O I need Thee, Every hour I need Thee; O bless me now, my Saviour, I come to Thee!"

"It was one of those rare moments," said Dr. Bond to his English readers, "when a great tide of emotions sweeps over a big assembly and carries it out of itself."

Northfield's Festival of Sacred Music

The Northfield Festival of Sacred Music when introduced into the program of the Northfield General Conference in the decade preceding World War II proved to be a thrilling moving event. Coming on the closing Sunday of the many summer programs, it brought immense crowds to the annual gathering at East Northfield which D. L. Moody made so popular by the list of distinguished speakers that he enlisted from British and American pulpits and educational institutions.

The fact that the Westminster Choir Summer School was holding its sessions at Mount Hermon, just a short distance across the river, with Dr. John Finley Williamson at its head, made possible Northfield's festival of sacred music. Choirs from neighboring communities united with the group at the summer school, and for six weeks five hundred singers prepared for the memorable occasion.

Twice the writer was in attendance. Much alike each year, yet particular interest attached itself to 1937. This was the season of the D. L. Moody Centenary Celebration, and the fifty-eighth session of the Northfield General Conference. The Festival Choir was divided into a few different groups for various purposes. Yet when the hymns were sung these all participated, and the audience was invited to join them.

Within five minutes after the entrances were opened the great auditorium was filled. People also stood in a solid line near the walls. Newspapers reported that about two thousand additional people also stood outside in the hot sun during the rendering of the program, a part of which was broadcast.

The audience, inside and outside the building, had its first opportunity to sing when they united in Luther's soul-stirring hymn:

"A mighty fortress is our God, A bulwark never failing."

The singing company made the most of it. "The very walls shook," said my friend in the next seat.

The next hymn selection was that which came from Toplady. This the audience knew well, and sang with affectionate enthusiasm:

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee."

Happy was the surprise which came with the next hymn. Mrs. W. R. Moody, daughter-in-law of D. L. Moody, seated herself at the keyboard of a small instrument which, before it was opened up, looked like a big packing case. Really it was the small organ which accompanied Moody and Sankey during their nation-wide evangelistic campaigns; for the latter always wanted, if possible, to have his own instrument with him. Hence the little organ was made for this purpose. The instrument had been on display in the Moody exhibit at Moody's boyhood home during the special days of the Moody Centennial. Visitors could there sit in the spacious chair used by Moody himself, sign their names; and, by permission, play on Sankey's organ. Musicians loved to do so. The Westminster singers now rendered the beloved gospel song:

"There were ninety and nine that safely lay In the shelter of the fold, But one was out on the hills away, Far off from the gates of gold-- Away on the mountains wild and bare Away from the tender Shepherd's care."

Joy beamed on the countenance of Mrs. Moody as she led the singers on the historic little organ; and the song continued through the lines:

"But all through the mountains, thunder-riven, And up from the rocky steep, There arose a glad cry to the gate of heaven."

The conductor at this point gave a signal to the enraptured audience, and everybody joined the special singers in the triumphant lines:

"'Rejoice! I have found my sheep!' And the angels echoed around the throne, Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own."

This musical climax was dramatic. The great company had evidently coveted the privilege of singing with Sankey's organ, and particularly in joining in this song. Now it came, and they made the most of it. "Singing such as that I never expect to hear again this side of heaven," said a woman whose soul had caught a vision of the lost sheep which had, at last, been found.

Just one more hymn remained to be sung before the Choral Benediction of Peter Lutkin was rendered by the great chorus. This was the familiar hymn of Isaac Watts, which we sang to the tune of Hamburg:

"When I survey the wondrous cross, On which the Prince of Glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride."

"Both hymn and tune are universal favorites," affirmed Dr. Charles A. Boyd after he examined sixteen hymnals and found the hymn in each of them. In all but two it was set to Hamburg.

Three verses of the hymn were sung, as requested, very softly. Then the last verse was sung louder, until, in mighty volume, the long-remembered service closed with the lines of personal consecration:

"Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all."