SPIRITUAL BLESSING RESULTING FROM HYMNS
Saved by the Mother's Hymn
In connection with the hymn "Jerusalem, my happy home," there is a beautiful story. In a farmhouse in New England, years ago, a mother was accustomed to rock her one little boy to sleep to the accompaniment of her favorite verses,
Jerusalem, my happy home,
Name ever dear to me.
Hers had been a sorrowful and laborious life, and at the end of the day the sweet lines brought rest and refreshment to her weary soul. Often as the boy grew older, and came home in the evening bringing the cows from pasture, he heard her singing,
Blest seats! through rude and stormy scenes
I onward press to you.
Later still the mother's voice grew weaker, and more often than any other verse she sang, in feeble tones,
Why should I shrink at pain or woe,
Or feel at death dismay?
I've Canaan's goodly land in view,
And realms of endless day.
Then the mother's voice was hushed forever, and the father, a hard man, soon made life unbearable for the motherless boy. One night he stole out with his little bundle, including his mother's Bible, and went to a great city, where, falling in with evil companions, he became a dissipated young man. Inheriting his mother's delicate constitution, his excesses told upon his health, until he eventually lay very ill in a common lodging-house. Here he was visited by a city missionary, who became very interested in him, but his ministrations seemed all in vain, and his appeals to him to seek the Savior appeared to fall on deaf ears. One day, discouraged by his repeated failures, the missionary turned away from the dying man, and, gazing out of the dingy window, he began softly to sing,
Jerusalem, my happy home,
Name ever dear to me.
But the first verse was interrupted by a voice from the bed, "Why, that's my mother's hymn" cried the young fellow, his eyes filled with tears. Back to him came his mother's voice, his mother's love, his mother's prayers. Oh, that hymn! “he cried," I have not thought of it for years! How many times it called me home again when I had gone out, angry with my father, and resolved never to go back!”
And now once more the mother's hymn did its work, and called back the erring, rebellious child to the loving arms of the Heavenly Father. Peace and joy became his in Jesus Christ. And when the end came, the good missionary whispered, as he gazed on the peaceful face, "That mother's hymn! It was the means, through Christ, of saving her wandering boy!”
The Sunday School Child's Wish
A very favorite hymn with children in America, and one which has been translated into several languages, is "I want to be an angel." It had a touching origin. Miss Sidney P. Gill (her curious Christian name being from a Welsh ancestress) was a teacher in the Infant Sunday School in Dr. Joel Parker's church in Philadelphia. She had been giving a lesson to the children on "Angels," when a lovely little girl in the class exclaimed, "Oh, I want to be an angel!" A few days later the little one was taken ill and died, a circumstance which so impressed Miss Gill that she wrote this hymn, based upon the child's expression of her wish. The first verse runs,
I want to be an angel, and with the angels stand,
A crown upon my forehead, a harp within my hand;
There right before my Savior, so glorious and so bright,
I'll wake the sweetest music, and praise Him day and night.
The Vanished Tears
The Rev. E. P. Hammond was conducting a children's meeting in America, and was explaining the love of Jesus Christ as shown by His death, when he noticed a girl burst into tears. She remained to the after-meeting, and was pointed to the Savior in Whose love she was soon happy and rejoicing. The next day she brought a letter to Mr. Hammond, from which the following is an extract:
“I think I have found the dear Jesus, and I do not see how I could have rejected Him so long. I think I can sing with the rest of those who have found Him, 'Jesus is mine.' The first time I came to the meetings, I cried; but now I feel like singing all the time.”
This last phrase fastened itself in Mr. Hammond's mind, and eventually prompted him to write the well-known hymn, the first verse of which epitomizes the child's letter:
I feel like singing all the time,
My tears are wiped away,
For Jesus is a Friend of mine,
I'll serve Him every day.
The Last Verse
One instance of the blessing which has accompanied the beautiful hymn of Dr. Bonar's, "Yet there is room," is of interest. It was during Messrs. Moody and Sankey's tour in Scotland that a worldly and careless young woman was asked by a friend to accompany her to one of the mission meetings. At first she refused, but, on being further pressed, consented and went. She was not in the least impressed by Mr. Moody's address, which to her seemed to have "nothing in it," and she wondered that there should be manifested such interest in what was obviously so commonplace.
After the address Mr. Sankey sang Dr. Bonar's composition as a solo, yet even these appealing words left the thoughtless heart of the girl untouched until Mr. Sankey reached the last verse:
Ere night that gate may close, and seal thy doom;
Then the last low long cry—No Room!
No Room! No Room!
Oh, woeful cry—No Room!
The words fell upon the careless soul like the thunder-roll of the Judgment Day. The meeting closed, but the terrible warning of that last verse, and its dread refrain, "No Room! No Room!" still rang on in her ears and heart. Nor could she rest until she turned to the Savior, and, kneeling at His feet, found pardon and peace through His redeeming Blood.
Far off From the Gates of Gold
A lady who had been much interested in the work of the two evangelists, Messrs. Moody and Sankey, took some of their hymn books with her on a visit to Paris, with a view to their distribution, and on the evening of her arrival placed one on the table in the reading-room of her hotel.
After dinner a young Englishman, just come over to Paris for a fortnight's dissipation, caught sight of the book among the papers. He was familiar with the names of Moody and Sankey, since his sister, an earnest Christian, had worked with them, and often urged him, but in vain, to attend their meetings. Carelessly he opened the book, and his eye fell on the two lines,
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold.
“I suppose Mary would say that's me," he said to himself, and, tossing the book aside, went out to attend the Opera. But he failed in all attempts to put those words out of his mind. Even in the Opera House, amid all the beautiful music and the gaiety of his surroundings, he seemed to hear over and over again the refrain,
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold.
He was glad to get back to his hotel and retire to bed, but with his first conscious moment the next morning the words returned as before, until at the end of a few days he was miserable.
At last it occurred to him to find the book again, and see what the rest of the hymn might be. The book was easily found on the reading-room table, but being unfamiliar with the opening words, it took him some time to find the hymn. At length he discovered it, and began to read.
There were ninety and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the fold.
“Ah! that's Mary," he said to himself; "she is safe in the fold.”
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold.
“And that's me," he murmured. It was no longer "Mary would say"; he himself knew it now. A day or two afterward, falling ill, he was attended by a doctor, also staying in the hotel, who was himself an earnest Christian. To him the young man opened his heart, and by the doctor's help he was led to yield himself to the Good Shepherd Who, in this strange way, had used the hymn to bring home the wandering sheep.
Outside the Door
Among the many souls blessed through the hymn known best by its refrain, "Take me as I am," was that of an infidel, in whom, during Messrs. Moody and Sankey's campaign in Plymouth, Professor Drummond, who was working with them, was much interested. The man lived twenty miles out of Plymouth, but had been to some of the services, and Drummond endeavored to win him for Christ, even visiting him in his home, but to no purpose.
Towards the close of the campaign the man came to Plymouth again, but on reaching the building in which the meetings were held he found the place full and the door closed. It was there, outside the building, that his conversion to God took place, and the means of it was the singing by the choir of "Take me as I am," which reached not only his ears but his heart, and led him into the Kingdom as he stood outside the door.
The Hymn That Changed the Sermon
Ira D. Sankey composed the music to Elizabeth Clephane's delightful hymn “Beneath the Cross of Jesus I fain would take my stand," in the house of the late Dr. Barnardo, so well known for his work among outcast children. The following morning, at eight o'clock, the usual Mission Service was held in the Bow Road Hall in East London, the preacher on that occasion being the Rev. W. Hay M. H. Aitken, the well-known missioner, who still, although over eighty years of age, conducts parochial missions. Mr. Moody, the usual speaker, was engaged elsewhere on that morning.
It was a glorious morning, and a very large congregation was present, despite the early hour. It was arranged that Mr. Sankey should sing a solo before the sermon, and he elected to sing "Beneath the Cross of Jesus," to the music composed the previous day. The effect was tremendous.
When the solo was finished, Mr. Aitken, his eyes filled with tears, told the deeply moved audience that he had intended to speak that morning on the subject of Christian work, but the new hymn had made such an impression not only on himself, but obviously upon his hearers, that he had decided to preach upon "The Cross of Jesus." The sermon that followed was most powerful, and was used of God in that early morning hour to bring many to the Savior.
The Last Refrain
Mr. Lewis Hartsough's favorite hymn, "I Hear Thy welcome Voice," of which he wrote both words and music, was first published in an American monthly magazine, called Guide to Holiness. A copy was sent to Mr. Sankey, who was Then with Mr. Moody in England, and he at once included it in his Sacred Songs and Solos, finding it most useful in their mission work. Not long after its publication it was being used in a church in Washington as an invitation hymn, the large congregation standing and singing it while those who desired to seek the Savior were invited to come forward and kneel at the altar rails.
It chanced that a merchant of the city, who had not entered a church for twenty years, was passing the building, and, hearing the singing, stopped to listen. As verse after verse was sung, the impression made upon him was so deep that he went into the church, and, passing up the aisle, joined the penitents at the rails. His conversion to God was very real and true, and the hymn that had been the means of bringing him to the Savior naturally became his favorite from that hour; he sang it wherever he went.
About a fortnight later, on a wintry morning, he left home for business as usual, and his wife, who stood for a moment at the door where he had wished her good-bye, heard him begin to sing his favorite refrain as he passed into the street:—
I am coming, Lord,
Coming now to Thee;
Wash me„ cleanse me in the Blood
That flowed on Calvary.
After listening for a moment, she closed the door, and re-entered the room. A few minutes later the door-bell rang, and she herself went to open it. There stood without a little group of men bearing her husband's dead body. Only a few yards down the street he had slipped upon the frozen pavement, and had been killed on the spot.
The refrain of the hymn which had led him to the feet of the Savior on earth were the last words on his lips as he passed to that Savior's Presence in Paradise:
I am coming, Lord,
Coming now to Thee.
Converted by a Hymn
In 1912, when I was compiling The Church Mission Hymn Book, in collaboration with Canon A. E. Barnes-Lawrence, I wished to set one of my own hymns to a tune by Mr. G. B. Blanchard, organist of a Wesleyan Church in Hull, and I therefore applied to Mr. Blanchard for permission.
No answer was received for a fortnight, and then Mr. Blanchard replied, relating the following interesting incident. He said that his tune had been specially written for a children's hymn from his own pen, and as he considered the tune was by wide use wedded to that hymn, he did not feel at all disposed to allow it to be set to another. But before he finally decided he thought he would try the effect of the suggested hymn, sung to his own tune, as a solo at a Sunday Evening Mission Service with which he was connected. "During the singing of the solo," wrote Mr. Blanchard, "a person in the audience yielded to the Savior. I cannot now refuse you the use of my tune." Readers of these pages may be interested, and perhaps some may be helped, by the printing of the hymn in full.
Hear the Voice of Jesus calling, soft and clear,—
For the Lord of Life and Glory standeth here:
"Come to Me, O souls distressed, by sin undone,
For I love you, and would save you every one.”
Now the wounded Feet are drawing to thy side;
Shall they pass beyond and leave thee, or abide?
Wilt thou bid thy loving Savior turn away?
Or within thy heart to enter and to stay?
See the pierced Hands outstretching now to thee,
Hands for love of thee outstretched on Calvary,
Hands of Him Who all thy debt of sin hath paid,
Hands that wait to feel thine own within them laid.
Look, the thorn-crowned Head is bending over thee,
And the patient Eyes are watching tenderly,—
Watching for thy heart to yield, thy lips to say
"Jesus, Master, take me, save me here to-day.”
And the Savior's Heart is yearning, in its love,
Here to save thee, and to keep thee,—then, above,
There to welcome thee, and set thee on His throne;
Wilt thou give thyself to Jesus for His own?
In the Church Aisle
The Rev. Canon Hay Aitken, the famous missioner, tells the story of a young lady, fashionable and worldly, who was persuaded to attend one of the services at a mission which he was conducting in the West End of London.
Apparently the preacher's earnest pleading and appeals did not move her in the least, and as soon as the sermon was ended she rose to leave the church before the after-meeting. But the church was full and the aisle crowded with people, so that her progress towards the door was very slow, and as she moved along she became very interested in the appealing hymn, "Lord, I hear of showers of blessing," with its constant refrain, "Even me! Even me!" Strangely enough, the hymn was new to her, and she followed the lines in her own book which was in her hand, until, just as she was approaching the church door, the choir reached the last verse of the hymn:
Pass me not! Thy lost one bringing,
Bind my heart, O Lord, to Thee!
While the streams of life are springing,
Blessing others, O bless me! Even me!
As the words were sung, the thought suddenly flashed into her mind, "I am that lost one" All along her homeward way the words rang on in her heart, "Pass me not! Thy lost one bringing." Presently she was alone in her bedroom, lying on her bed, sobbing out from the depths of her soul the pleading prayer, "Pass me not! Thy lost one bringing." Then came the remembrance of the Savior's words, that He "came to seek and to save that which was lost," and ere she slept that night her soul had found rest in that Savior's love, and her new life in Christ had begun.