SONGS OF CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH
"One Sunday evening a farmer was teaching his little girl the hymn, 'A
charge to keep I have.' When they came to the verse:
"'To serve the present age,
My calling to fulfill;
Oh, may it all my powers engage
To do my Master's will!'
the godly father told his daughter that the Creator had brought her
into the world that she might fulfill that verse. The child believed
it. And because that verse took possession of that little girl and
started her on a great career, Frances E. Willard stands in perpetual
marble in Statuary Hall in the Capitol at Washington, the one woman in
the nation's Hall of Fame."--_The Homiletic Review._
A little lad, according to the story related by Bishop William Burt,
loved to sing. He had a particular fondness for one hymn, and hence he
often sang around the home the hymn which he had learned in Sunday
School:
"Jesus, Lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly."
The parents, naturally, were delighted to have their growing boy
displaying his gift of song; but he sometimes sang at what appeared to
them to be inopportune moments. For instance, one night the family were
going to a party, and the little fellow was warned not to sing on that
occasion.
During the evening, however, the boy was in a corner of the room, and,
being alone, began to sing his beloved hymn in a clear, sweet voice.
Those present were delighted at the pleasing incident. When, however,
the boy observed his parents look at him, somewhat reprovingly, he said
to them, "I didn't mean to do it, but it sang itself."
Song of the Child in the Shelter
"Mummie, do you think they would listen if I sang for them?"
"Oh, no, of course not," was the mother's reply. "You can't sing here,"
she added.
Mother and her little girl were in an English air raid shelter and the
wartime experience was a new one for the perplexed child. England was
being terribly bombed in the spring of 1941, and on this occasion more
than a hundred people, highly nervous, were trying to meet their fears
with loud conversation, shouting, laughter, and some kind of singing.
The scene of commotion distressed the little girl, and she wished the
people were less noisy. A British writer told us what happened.
The conversation of mother and daughter was overheard by a woman who was
sitting near by. Turning to the mother the woman said, "And why should
she not sing?" Immediately, therefore, she stood up, called for order,
and invited the little girl to sing.
The child, very shyly, advanced to the middle of the shelter, and
clasped her hands, as though in prayer. Lifting her sweet childish voice
she sang:
"Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me;
Bless Thy little lamb tonight;
Through the darkness be Thou near me;
Keep me safe till morning light.
"All this day Thy hand has led me,
And I thank Thee for Thy care;
Thou hast clothed me, warmed and fed me;
Listen to my evening prayer.
"Let my sins be all forgiven;
Bless the friends I love so well;
Take me when I die to heaven,
Happy there with Thee to dwell."
Silence immediately prevailed. Hearts which were unmoved by the
confusion of the earlier noises were touched by the song of the child.
Their spirits became responsive, for a little child had led them in a
song which was both a prayer of thanksgiving and reverent petition. Mary
Lundie Duncan, who was the daughter of one minister and the wife of
another, wrote this hymn, as she did others, for her own children. "In
every word it breathes the childlike spirit." Dr. James Moffatt,
speaking perhaps more for his native country than for America (though
the hymn is found in the section for children in some of our American
hymnals), said that this is "the first evening prayer that thousands of
little children learn."
What the Scouts Sang
Sea Scouts accompanied Boy Scouts to a morning service of worship on a
February Sunday, 1947, and thus "gave modern color to the old-world
dignity" of a very beautiful Presbyterian Church in an American city. It
was also the first Sunday in his new pastorate of a man who had served
during World War II with anti-aircraft units in the Southwest Pacific.
Thus everything combined to make the occasion memorable. Said the
minister to the Scouts: "In my work as chaplain I found it was boys with
Scout background who stepped forward and offered to be of service. And a
marked proportion of distinguished service medals were awarded to former
scouts."
But the "sermon found its devotional climax," we were told, "in the hymn
of consecration" selected to be sung. This was written by a great lover
of youth, the Rev. Charles A. Dickinson, D.D. Born in Vermont, July 4,
1849, he graduated from Harvard University. In the latter part of his
life he established his residence in California. The hymn sung was:
"Blessed Master, I have promised,
Hear my solemn vow;
Take this pledge of mine and seal it
Here and now."
"The outstanding characteristic of this hymn is the absolute finality of
the solemn dedication to Christ. It is 'here and now' that the
irrevocable decision is made," commented Covert and Laufer. But the hymn
closes with a prayer for strength to keep the pledge made:
"Let no worldly cares or pleasures
Call my heart away;
Save me, Lord, and keep me faithful
Day by day."
"Hearts have been deeply stirred by the use of this hymn at the monthly
consecration service of Christian Endeavor societies, for which it was
evidently designed," we are told. It was a good hymn for the Scouts to
sing on that winter morning.
"Jesus Bids Us Shine"
This large family lived about equi-distant from four towns on a quiet
inaccessible rented farm along the river. It was while I was visiting
the country school that I first got acquainted with some of the
children. They told me about their youngest sister, who had had
infantile paralysis. After getting rather minute directions from the
older brother, I finally found the isolated farm home.
Alice was five years old and as bright and as ardent a little child as I
ever knew. She was very easy to make friends with and I soon began to
teach her the first verse of the children's song, "Jesus Bids Us Shine."
When I came to the line, "You in your small corner, and I in mine," I
would point first at her and then at myself. She got a great "kick" out
of this and set herself to learn the words and the tune. I visited with
the older folks a while, went out to the barn with the farmer to look at
his stock, ate dinner with the family, but in between times I kept
trying to teach little Alice the first verse of that song. Finally she
could sing it with the assistance of her older sister.
About a year later I went out to the Anderson home but found that Alice
had been taken for treatment to the children's hospital at the
University. I went back a year later, and this time I found that an
ambulance had come after her that very morning. Perhaps six months
later, I was again slowly taking the deeply-rutted road. She came
limping toward me as fast as she could, which was not very fast.
Hobbling down the lane on her one good leg with the aid of a
considerably improved other leg, she called out to me with ardent pride,
"I can sing that song. _I can sing that song!_"
And she could:
"Jesus bids us shine, with a clear pure light,
Like a little candle burning in the night;
In this world of darkness, we must shine,
You in your small corner, and I in mine."
And she didn't forget to point at me either!
--_Otis Moore in Zion's Herald._
Men Loved the Kiddies' Hymn
"I have seen an officer in mid-years almost break down in tears because
I casually quoted the ... hymn:
"'Now the day is over,
Night is drawing nigh;
Shadows of the evening
Steal across the sky.'"
Such was the testimony of Chaplain Thomas Tiplady, who was with the
British forces in France during World War I. He gives the reason for
this when he says that the man's mother had for several years repeated
the hymn to him every evening.
But most of the soldiers liked this hymn. Particularly impressive is the
account given of the time when the men assembled for worship in a little
church at Achicourt, about a mile out of Arras. There the men often
gathered, even though the building had been badly shattered. A final
service was held, and the benediction had been pronounced. Then the
chaplain said: "Before we part and before we leave Achicourt which has
meant so much to us of joy and sorrow, let us sing a kiddies' hymn." It
was not in their books, but the leader read it verse by verse, and the
men sang. One may easily imagine their deep feelings as they united in
the words:
"Grant to little children
Visions bright of Thee;
Guard the sailors tossing
On the deep blue sea."
The testimony of the chaplain to the effects produced by that hymn is as
follows: "I have witnessed many moving sights in my time and heard much
deep and thrilling music but I have never been so deeply moved by
anything as by the deep, rich voices of these gallant men and boys who,
after winning the Battle of Arras, had come into this ruined church and
were singing this beautiful kiddies' hymn as their last farewell."