The Christ, the well-beloved Son, NEARER TO THEE. SARAH FULLER FLOWER was born in Cambridge, England, Feb. 22, 1805, her father being editor of the Cambridge Intelligencer, and married, in 1834. William Bridges Adams, a distinguished engineer She died of pulmonary complaint, Aug 13, 1849. The depth of her religious earnestness is expressed in the two hymns by which she is represented in this volume, which were originally contributed to a volume of hymns and anthems, published in 1841. Her uncle emigrated to Illinois, and it has by some been thought that Mrs. Adams was an American. Dr. Putnam gives the following information: "Mrs. Adams was a worshipper at the Chapel of Rev. W. J. Fox, in London, and contributed these hymns to a collection that was made for the use of her own minister's congregation. A copy of this collection was given to Dr. Clarke by his friend Mr. Bakewell, in Pittsburg, Pa., and from it Nearer, my God. to Thee' found its way at once into the 'Service Book' Thence it was taken for the Plymouth Collection,' and soon afterwards was adopted by other compilers, and at length was known throughout the country. Perhaps no hymn of modern date has had a more wonderful history. Equally acceptable to all sects and denominations, it has already been translated into numerous languages, and is sung to the tune of Bethany,' not alone in the churches of America and England, but in the countries of Europe, and even in the distant missionary establishments of the East. In the recent Temperance Crusade in our own land it was especially this hymn that burst from the hearts and lips of the multitudes, and voiced their deepest sentiments and highest aspirations." Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee! Though like the wanderer, There let the way appear All that thou send'st to me Then, with my waking thoughts Out of my stony griefs So by my woes to be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee! Or if on joyful wing Cleaving the sky, Sun, moon, and stars forgot, Still all my song shall be, SARAH FLOWER ADAMS THE POET'S TRUSTING HEART, SPINNING. Of these lines, often printed with other titles and attributed to other authors, it has been said that "no finer symbolic picture of human life has ever been framed." LUTHER'S HYMN. "Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott " This hymn, called by Heine the Marseillaise of the Reformation, is the most famous of all that Luther wrote. It is founded on the Forty-sixth Psalm, and is supposed to have been composed at Coburg, in 1530, before the Diet of Augsburg. Mr. Carlyle refers it to "the time of blackest threatenings," when Luther had been summoned to the Diet of Worms, from the coincidence of the third verse with Luther's answer to Spalatin, who tried to dissuade him from the journey: "If there were as many devils in Worms as there are tiles on the roofs, I would go, and would not be afraid. If Huss was burnt to ashes, the truth was not burnt with him." Some, however, think that it was composed at the close of the Second Diet of Spires, that in 1529, which revoked the religious liberty granted in the previous one of 1526. Dr. Merle d'Aubigné assigns it to the year 1530, and it was sung by Luther at the time of the Diet of Augsburg, in that year; but Kübler says that it was in Joseph Klug's Hymnbook in 1529. Mr. Longfellow supports the theory that it was written at Wartburg Castle, in 1521. See page 138, and for another version of this hymn, page 384. There are sev. eral other English versions. THOMAS CARLYLE, the translator of the version below, was one of the most eminent writers of English of his day. He was a Scot, and had the sterling traits of his countrymen. He was born in Dumfries-shire, in 1795, and long lived in London, where he died, February 5, 1881. A SAFE Stronghold our God is still, A trusty shield and weapon; The ancient Prince of hell Hath risen with purpose fell; Strong mail of craft and power He weareth in this hour; On earth is not his fellow. With force of arms we nothing can, Full soon were we down-ridden; But for us fights the proper Man, Whom God himself hath bidden. Ask ye, who is this same? Christ Jesus is his name, The Lord Zebaoth's Son, He and no other one Shall conquer in the battle. And were this world all devils o'er, And watching to devour us, We lay it not to heart so sore, Not they can overpower us. And let the Prince of ill Look grim as e'er he will, He harms us not a whit: For why? His doom is writ, One little word shall slay him. That word, for all their craft and force, One moment will not linger, its course, But, spite of hell, shall hav And though they take our life, Goods, honor, children, wife, Yet is their profit small; These things shall vanish all, The city of God remaineth. MARTIN LUTHER, 1530 Translated by THOMAS CARLYLE, 1831. THE TRUSTING HEART. "Befiell du deine Wege." Scarcely had GERHARDT attained his twelfth year, when the Thirty Years' War broke out. Forced to quit his native land, he was appointed, in 1631, preacher at the Nicolaj Church at Berlin, where he remained ten years, honored and respected. But as his religious opinions differed from those of the Elector, he was ordered to quit the country. Utterly destitute, he and his wife directed their steps towards his native land, performing the journey on foot. When evening arrived, they sought repose at a little village inn, when his wife gave way to a burst of natural emotion. Gerhardt reminded her of the text beginning" Commit thy way unto the Lord," and retiring to an arbor in the garden, he composed the hymn "Befiehl du deine Wege," for which of all his productions he is most celebrated. When they were about to retire to rest, two gentlemen entered the parlor in which they were seated. One of them, in conversing with the poet, told him they were on their way to Berlin, in search of the deposed clergyman, Paul Gerhardt, by order of Duke Christian of Merseberg. Gerhardt's wife turned pale, but he calmly declared he was the person they were seeking. Great was the astonishment of both husband and wife when one of the strangers delivered to Gerhardt a letter from the duke, informing him that he had settled a considerable pension on him, as a compensation for the injustice of which he had been a victim. Then Gerhardt turned to his wife, and gave her the hymn he had composed, with the words, "See how God provides! Did I not bid you to trust in God, and all would be well?" This story, though related by Miss Cox, is not completely authenticated. To God thy way commending, Trust him whose arm of might, The heavenly circles bending, Guides every star aright: The winds, and clouds, and lightning Trust God, his time awaiting, If thou wilt have success, Work, his work contemplating, That he thy work may bless: Whate'er is worth thy getting By prayer thou shalt obtain, And not by anxious fretting, Or self-inflicted pain. Thy love, O Father, gloweth To human flesh and blood: And, through thy strong right hand, And whatsoe'er thou will'st Thou dost, O King of kings; What thy unerring wisdom chose, Thy power to being brings. Thou everywhere hast sway, And all things serve thy might; Thy every act pure blessing is, Thy path unsullied light. When thou arisest, Lord, Who shall thy work withstand? When all thy children want thou giv'st, Who, who shall stay thy hand? Give to the winds thy fears; Hope, and be undismayed; God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears, God shall lift up thy head. Through waves and clouds and storms Wait thou his time; so shall this night Still heavy is thy heart? Still sink thy spirits down? Cast off the weight, let fear depart, And every care be gone. What though thou rulest not? Yet heaven and earth and hell Proclaim, God sitteth on the throne, And ruleth all things well! Leave to his sovereign sway So shalt thou wondering own, his way Far, far above thy thought When fully he the work hath wrought Thou seest our weakness, Lord! Our hearts are known to thee: Oh, lift thou up the sinking hand, Confirm the feeble knee! Let us, in life, in death, And publish, with our latest breath, PAUL GERHARDT. Translated by HERE IS MY HEART. "Hier ist mein Herz, mein Gott, ich geb' es dir." EHRENFRIED LIEBICH was born at Probstbahn, June 13, 1713, and died Dec. 23, 1780. HERE is my heart! my God, I give it thee; I heard thee call and say, "Not to the world, my child, but unto me,” – I heard, and will obey. Here is love's offering to my King, Here is my heart. |