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."