Part 17

The _Methodist Hymn-book_ contains contributions from several Methodist writers new to our authorized hymnal. Of those still living I will say nothing, but I cannot pass over the name of James Smetham (1821-89), whose tender, solemn lines, ‘While ebbing nature grieves,’ though they may rarely be sung in public, will be prized by many. Another of his hymns is in a different key. It is, perhaps, more suitable for congregational use—

Show me, Lord, that Thou art love In confirmed tranquillity, Like the silent sky above, Let my craving spirit be; Dwell in life as vast and still, In the sunlight of Thy will.

Thou who fillest all in all, Knowing that I wander here, Thou wilt hearken when I call, I will wait till Thou appear. Angels in Thy smile are blest; Smile, and Thou wilt give me rest.

See the lilies of the field! They are all endued by Thee: Thou their innocence wilt shield; But Thou carest more for me: For like summer verdure, I Live and grow, but cannot die.

Since on me Thou hast conferred This dread gift of endless life, Let my spirit walk prepared For its brief and mortal strife; Rushing then into Thy breast, Thou wilt smile, and I shall rest.

The weakness of this hymn lies in the word ‘rushing’ in the fourth verse, which breaks in upon the quietness and confidence of the poem.

Mark Guy Pearse has written several good hymns for children. They are, as Dr. Julian says, ‘of exceptional merit.’ Four are in the _Methodist Sunday School Book_. His Christmas carol, ‘The fierce wind howls about the hills,’ has a quaint, old-world simplicity and ruggedness that is both picturesque and affecting. His most carefully wrought hymn is a beautiful song of praise. The first two lines in each verse are its special charm. Many readers will be glad to see it here, though it is well known in Methodist Sunday schools.

Saviour, for Thy love we praise Thee, Love that brought Thee down to earth; Like the angels we would praise Thee, Singing welcome at Thy birth; Let Thy star, through all our gloom, Guide us to Thy manger home.

Saviour, for Thy life we praise Thee, Life that brings us from the dead; Like the children we would praise Thee: Lay Thine hands upon our head. Call us, as Thou didst of old, Little lambs into Thy fold.

Saviour, for Thy death we praise Thee, Death that is our hope of life; Like the ransomed we would praise Thee, Who have passed beyond the strife. Wash us in Thy cleansing blood, Make us kings and priests to God.

Saviour, for Thy love we praise Thee, Love that lifts us up to Thee; With the angels let us praise Thee, Joining in their minstrelsy; All our love for ever telling, And the mighty chorus swelling, Praise the Lord!

Benjamin Gough (1805-77) was a local preacher and a very minor poet, yet he is not the least of Methodist hymn-writers. He was an echo, not a voice, but won much wider acceptance than most of the later Methodist poets. Dr. Littledale included a number of his hymns in the _People’s Hymnal_, and he is represented in several good hymn-books both in this country and America. His best hymns are ‘Awake, awake, O Zion’ and ‘Uplift the blood-stained banner.’

Though the English Free Churches are poor in hymn-writers, the balance is amply redressed in Scotland. Horatius Bonar (1801-89) is one of the great singers of the century, and some of his hymns, e.g. ‘I heard the voice of Jesus say,’ are surely immortal. He rightly named his poems ‘hymns of faith and hope’; they look for and haste unto the coming of the Day of Christ. His Communion hymn, ‘Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face,’ and ‘A few more years shall roll,’ with some others, are in all great collections. Few modern books have less than ten of his hymns, and many have from twelve to twenty. He was also a successful translator, though his fame rests on his original hymns. If I quote few of his verses, it is only because they are so well known. The Second Advent filled a large place in his thought and teaching. The following lines, to which he prefixed a quotation from St. Augustine, ‘The world has grown old,’ are very characteristic—

Come, Lord, and tarry not, Bring the long-looked-for day; Oh, why these years of waiting here, These ages of delay?

Come, for Thy saints still wait, Daily ascends their sigh; The Spirit and the Bride say, Come: Dost Thou not hear the cry?

Come, for creation groans, Impatient of Thy stay, Worn out with these long years of ill, These ages of delay.

Come, for Thy foes are strong; With taunting lip they say, ‘Where is the promised advent now, And where the dreaded day?’

Come, for love waxes cold, Its steps are faint and slow; Faith now is lost in unbelief, Hope’s lamp burns dim and low.

Come, for the corn is ripe; Put in Thy sickle now, Reap the great harvest of the earth, Sower and reaper Thou!

Come, and make all things new, Build up this ruined earth; Restore our faded Paradise, Creation’s second birth.

Come, and begin Thy reign Of everlasting peace; Come, take the kingdom to Thyself, Great King of righteousness.[200]

Fewer and less easily adapted to congregational use are the sacred songs of Dr. George Matheson, whose best-known hymn is probably the most widely appreciated of any written in the last quarter of a century. It must be familiar to most readers, but as it is not found in the _Methodist Hymn-book_, I give it here—

O Love that wilt not let me go, I rest my weary soul on Thee; I give Thee back the life I owe, That in Thine ocean depths its flow May richer, fuller be.

O Light that followest all my way, I yield my flickering torch to Thee; My heart restores its borrowed ray, That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to Thee; I trace the rainbow through the rain, And feel the promise is not vain That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head, I dare not ask to fly from Thee; I lay in dust life’s glory dead, And from the ground there blossoms red Life that shall endless be.

Very different are his verses on Brotherhood, which are not on the ordinary lines of a hymn, but make an excellent song for a gathering of working-men, for a temperance meeting, or for ‘united’ gatherings of many kinds. It is at least thoroughly modern.

Come, let us raise the common song— Day’s beams are breaking; Shadows have parted hearts too long, Light in the east is waking.

Come, let us clasp united hands— Love’s rays are falling; Sea too long divides the lands, Kindred claims are calling.

Come, let us lift a common prayer— One hope combines us; We are made hard by selfish care, Mutual grief refines us.

Come, let us lift our brother’s load— Christ’s cross is o’er us; Ours shall fall upon the road When Heaven’s is seen before us.

Come, let us win our brother’s love; Love’s warm revealing Melts the ice that will not move By the frost’s congealing.

Come, let us lift our brother’s stain; Hope’s power shall cherish Dreams of daysprings not in vain Wherein the spot shall perish.

Dr. Walter C. Smith’s is not a familiar name in our hymn-books. Only editors who are willing to leave the beaten track will find his poems ‘true hymns.’ The _Baptist Church Hymnal_, which is perhaps the most catholic and the most literary of our modern books, gives six of his hymns, while the Presbyterian and the Methodist have none. But many of his poems are good hymns, though perhaps they appeal to a limited circle. His _Thoughts and Fancies for Sunday Evenings_ has long stood close to my study chair, and I do not think there is any book (except George Herbert) I have so often read after the day’s work is done. His hymns have the true patience and the happy trustfulness which are the strength and inspiration of Christian service. Here are three verses from the poem on Ps. cxviii. 1—

Why should I always pray, Although I always lack? Were ’t not a better way Some praise to render back? The earth that drinks the plenteous rain Returns the grateful cloud again.

We should not get the less That we remembered more The truth and righteousness Thou keep’st for us in store: In heaven they do not pray—they sing, And they have wealth of everything.

And it would be more meet To compass Thee with song, Than to have at Thy feet Only a begging throng, Who take Thy gifts and then forget Alike Thy goodness and their debt.

My next quotation is well worthy of a place beside Bishop Bickersteth’s ‘Come ye yourselves apart,’ and with the most impressive and consoling of hymns for Christian workers.

Oft, Lord, I weary in Thy work, But of Thy work I do not tire, Although I toil from dawn till dark, From matins of the early lark Until his even-song expire.

Ah! who that tends the altar fire, Or ministers the incense due, Or sings Thy praises in the choir, Or publishes good news, could tire Of that he loves so well to do?

Sweet is the recompense it brings— The work that with good-will is done; For all the heart with gladness sings, And all the fleeting hours have wings, And all the day is full of sun.

And if he labour not in vain, If souls are by his message stirred, If he can comfort grief and pain, Or bring repentant tears like rain By force of his entreating word,

The hand may weary at its task, And weary he may drag his feet; The weary frame may long to bask In needful rest; but do not ask The heart to weary of its beat.

To these quotations—and they are few compared with those I would like to make—I must add Dr. Smith’s singularly solemn and beautiful prayer, which in the _Baptist Church Hymnal_ is appointed for the close of the Communion Service. It is unique among sacramental hymns.

If any to the feast have come Who were not bidden, Lord, forgive; They were not of our Father’s home, Yet in Thy mercy let them live.

If any came in doubt or fear, O may they carry peace away; Let heaven to them be calm and clear, Still brightening to the perfect day.

And who in Zion mourning were, O give them songs of praise to Thee; And who were full of anxious care, O set them from their burden free.

All those who never sat before At this dear table of Thy grace, O may they love Thee more and more, And serve Thee in Thy Holy Place.

And they who ne’er again shall see The day of our communion dawn, Prepare them, Lord, to feast with Thee At tables which are never drawn.

Forgive us all our wandering thought, Our little love, our feeble faith; And may we meet, our battle fought, Beyond the realms of sin and death.

From these great Scotch hymn-writers I turn for a moment to the Unitarian contribution to the Church’s hymn-book. Here it must be said that the best comes to us from America, where the Unitarians claim Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell, Samuel Longfellow, and Samuel Johnson. In England we have Sir John Bowring (1792-1872); and Sarah Flower Adams (1805-48), whose ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee’ has a sure place among the best-loved hymns. Mrs. Adams also wrote two beautiful little hymns suited for the close of service, each beginning, ‘Part in peace,’ and was an important contributor to W. J. Fox’s _Hymns and Anthems_ for the use of the South Place Religious Society, one of the most curious of modern hymnals. Mr. Page Hopps has written some good hymns, which are widely used. His child’s prayer, ‘Father, lead me day by day,’ is beautiful in its strong simplicity. Dr. James Martineau wrote a few hymns which I cannot but think are included in evangelical hymn-books more out of respect for their author than for their actual devotional or poetic value. The best known is ‘Thy way is in the deep, O Lord.’ I quote one less often found—

‘Where is your God?’ they say: Answer them, Lord most holy! Reveal Thy secret way Of visiting the lowly: Not wrapped in moving cloud, Or nightly-resting fire; But veiled within the shroud Of silent high desire.

Come not in flashing storm, Or bursting frown of thunder: Come in the viewless form Of wakening love and wonder;— Of duty grown divine, The restless spirit, still; Of sorrows taught to shine As shadows of Thy will.

O God! the pure alone,— E’en in their deep confessing,— Can see Thee as their own, And find the perfect blessing: Yet to each waiting soul Speak in Thy still small voice, Till broken love’s made whole, And saddened hearts rejoice.

V Nineteenth-century Hymns

III.—Roman Catholic Hymns

English Romanism has shared in the revival of hymnody, and has been greatly enriched by the men who, to quote Mr. Moorsom’s delightful record of Faber, ‘left the Church of England for the Roman schism in England.’ From Austin to Faber, Romanism has hardly any English hymn-writers. Some of the Latin hymns by English writers have an alluring rhythm, the ideal tone of a Christmas carol. It is easy to understand how popular they might be in the vernacular. Here is a bright lilting verse from a thirteenth-century hymn:

Gabriel to Mary went, A mighty message bare he; Deep in awe the maiden bent To hear the first Hail Mary![201]

Richard Crashaw (d. 1650) was a poet, but scarcely a hymn-writer, though from his ‘Hymn of St. Thomas’ a good cento may be made.

With all the powers my poor heart hath Of humble love and loyal faith, Thus low, my hidden Life, I bow to Thee, Whom too much love hath bowed more low for me.

Faith is my force: Faith strength affords To keep pace with Thy powerful words, And words more sure, more sweet than they, Love could not think, Truth could not say.

Help, Lord, my faith, my hope increase, And fill my portion in Thy peace: Give love for life; nor let my days Grow but in new powers to Thy praise.

O dear memorial of that Death, Which lives still and allows us breath! Rich, royal food! Bountiful bread! Whose use denies us to the dead.

Come, Love! come, Lord! and that long day For which I languish, come away! When glory’s sun faith’s shades shall chase, And for Thy veil give me Thy face.[202]

Robert Southwell (d. 1595) did not write so good a hymn as this, but several of his very striking poems are included in the Arundel book—‘The Burning Babe,’ ‘New Prince, new Pomp,’ ‘A Child my choice.’

Early in the nineteenth century efforts were made to provide English hymn-books for Romanists. Father Haydock (1823) even adapted some of the hymns of Wesley, Watts, Montgomery, and other Protestants, but the effort does not seem to have been appreciated.[203]

Frederick William Faber (1814-63) did for English Romanists what Watts had done for Nonconformists more than a hundred years earlier. He is the Watts and Wesley of Romanism. Faber ‘went over’ in 1846, after a brief ministry in the Anglican Church. He lamented that Catholics had not ‘the means of influence which one school of Protestantism has in Wesley’s, Newton’s, and Cowper’s hymns, and another in the more refined and engaging works of Oxford writers.’ As ‘an English son of St. Philip’ Neri, he claimed to be following in the steps of that ‘right merry saint’ in his attempt to provide ‘English Catholic hymns fitted for singing.’ ‘St. Philip devised a changeful variety of spiritual exercises and recreations, which gathered round him the art and literature, as well as the piety of Rome, and was eminently qualified to meet the increased appetite for the word of God, for services in the vernacular, for hymn-singing and prayer-meetings.’ These last words have a fine Methodist flavour, and increase one’s sympathy with their writer. But it must be admitted that Faber was a thorough-going Romanist. He believed that ‘God raised up our dear and blessed Father, St. Philip ... just as the heresy of Protestantism was beginning to devastate the world.’[204] Faber’s hymns must not be judged simply by our Protestant versions, but we may be thankful that he gave a new and better tone to the hymn-singing of the Roman Church. His best hymns, with their exquisite yearning tenderness, are so dear to us that there is no need to speak of them; they speak the language of the Christian heart, and he who sings thus sings the Holy Spirit’s song.

It must be admitted, however, that we have taken the best of Faber into our hymnals, and the residue is not—from the Protestant standpoint—of great value. What one may call the lighter songs of Roman Catholic psalmody are so little known to us that I quote, as a favourable illustration of a class of hymn that bulks largely in Romanist books, two verses of Faber’s song for St. Patrick’s Day. One can readily imagine that such a hymn would be popular in Ireland, and serve to keep alive the legend of St. Patrick.

All praise to Saint Patrick who brought to our mountains The gift of God’s faith, the sweet light of His love! All praise to the shepherd who showed us the fountains That rise in the heart of the Saviour above! For hundreds of years, In smiles and in tears, Our saint hath been with us, our shield and our stay; All else may have gone, Saint Patrick alone, He hath been to us light when earth’s lights were all set, For the glories of faith they can never decay; And the best of our glories is bright with us yet, In the faith and the feast of Saint Patrick’s Day.

There is not a saint in the bright courts of Heaven More faithful than he to the land of his choice; Oh, well may the nation to whom he was given, In the feast of their sire and apostle rejoice! In glory above, True to his love, He keeps the false faith from his children away: The dark false faith, That is worse than death, Oh, he drives it far off from the green sunny shore, Like the reptiles which fled from his curse in dismay; And Erin, when error’s proud triumph is o’er, Will still be found keeping Saint Patrick’s Day.

Edward Caswall (1814-78), who resigned his Anglican living in 1847, was received into the Roman Church in 1850. He is a more successful translator than composer, his best original hymn being ‘Days and moments quickly flying.’ His translations from the Latin and German are in all our hymnals.

Romish hymnals contain many prayers for the reconversion of England. There is something pathetic in such lines as these in a hymn of Father Potter’s—

Oh! yet once more, o’er English fields, The glorious Cross shall wave; The solace of the broken heart, The standard of the brave.

Oh, isle of Saints! oh, Mary’s dower! How long ere this shall be? When wilt thou rise, throw off thy chains, And once again be free?

But if our Romish brethren sing thus, why should not we teach our children Mr. Gill’s stirring hymn, which includes the lines

Sing how He His England crownèd, When He loosed the yoke of Rome?

Have we not as good cause for praise as they for prayer?

One turns from the study of Romish hymn-books with a sense of having travelled in a far country, where yet there is much to remind one of the home-land. There is a great gulf, as we thankfully acknowledge, between even the High Anglican and the Romanist—a considerable portion of the Romish hymn-book is, and we trust ever will be, impossible to the bulk of English Christians. On the other hand, one can neglect the chaff and gather golden grain, for saintly Romanists have a genius for devotion. It is much to be wished that the readiness with which we have adopted hymns from Roman Catholic sources had been reciprocated. But almost all the great English hymns are missing from Catholic hymnals. The Arundel editors admit translations by Dr. Neale, and even Miss Winkworth, but no original hymns save those by writers of their own faith. Mr. Tozer, in his _Catholic Hymns_, includes Charlotte Elliott’s ‘Thy Will be done,’ and gives the author’s name, but I am afraid he did not know she was a Protestant—though I hope he did.

Naturally, Faber and Caswall are the chief contributors; and books that contain their hymns and those of Matthew Bridges, Adelaide Anne Procter, and J. H. Newman, cannot be without much spiritual wealth. The two collections I have named give a very hopeful impression concerning the future of Roman Catholic hymnody; though they are practically innocent of Protestant hymns, they contain many which are Catholic, and not Roman. Indirectly, the use of such books must prepare the way for a greater freedom in worship and a nearer approximation to the general company of believers.

I will close this slight sketch with two verses by Cardinal Manning:

Death has for me no fears; its bitter pains Shall never from my King my heart divide: Faithful to Him till death my will remains; I nothing fear, with Jesus at my side.

Jesus, my Lord! my only hope and shield; No powers of ill before Thee can abide; I trust in Thee upon the battlefield; I nothing fear, with Jesus at my side![205]

Here our study must perforce break off, for the limits assigned to my lecture have been already exceeded. Several important subjects must be omitted. American hymns take a comparatively inconspicuous place in our Church hymnals, but have a large space in collections of songs for mission services and undenominational gatherings.

Translations from the Greek, Latin, and German furnish many of our finest and most popular hymns. In regard to modern hymn-books, the German are the older, and indeed many of the Latin hymns are actually of a later date than those of Luther and even Paul Gerhardt. John Wesley’s intercourse with the Moravians introduced him to the German hymns, and his translations are almost as important a feature in our hymn-books as Charles Wesley’s original compositions. Miss Winkworth’s _Lyra Germanica_ is one of the great devotional works of the nineteenth century.

The Oxford Movement drew attention to the hymns of the Greek and Roman Churches, and _Hymns Ancient and Modern_ popularized many hymns suitable to the worship of all the Churches. Bishop Mant, Isaac Williams, Edward Caswall, and Dr. Neale led the way in translating these hymns into English verse, and they quickly secured a large place in hymn-books. Not only have they great historic interest, but they give us some of the sublimest and the sweetest of our hymns of penitence and praise, ranging from the solemn tones of the ‘Dies irae’ to the lovely lyrics of Bernard of Clairvaux, ‘Jesu, the very thought of Thee.’ No survey of the hymn-book of the modern Church can be complete without reference to them, but I am compelled to pass them by with only this brief mention.

CONCLUSION

Our study of English hymns has carried us through three centuries and a half—from the rough, halting lines of Coverdale to the smooth and easy rhythm of the hymn-writers of to-day.

From Sternhold and Hopkins to the modern hymn-book is a long and delightful journey. ‘I envy not in any mood’ the man who finds in devotional poetry only matter for criticism. If it be true that the heart makes the theologian, it is more true that the heart makes the hymnologist.