How shall I sing that Majesty
Which angels do admire?
Let dust in dust and silence lie:
Sing, sing, ye heavenly choir.
Thousands of thousands stand around
Thy throne, O God, most high:
Ten thousand times ten thousand sound
Thy praise; but who am I?
Thy brightness unto them appears,
Whilst I Thy footsteps trace:
A sound of God comes to my ears,
But they behold Thy face:
They sing because Thou art their Sun,
Lord, send a beam on me:
For where heaven is but once begun,
There Hallelujahs be.
Enlighten with faith’s light my heart,
Inflame it with love’s fire,
Then shall I sing and bear a part
With that celestial choir.
I shall, I fear, be dark and cold
With all my fire and light,
Yet when Thou dost accept their gold,
Lord, treasure up my mite.
How good art Thou whose goodness is
Our parent, nurse, and guide:
Whose streams do water Paradise
And all the earth beside!
Thine upper and Thy nether springs
Make both Thy worlds to thrive:
Under Thy warm and sheltering wings
Thou keep’st two broods alive.
Thy arm of might, most Mighty King,
Both rocks and hearts doth break;
My God, Thou canst do everything
But what would shew Thee weak.
Thou canst not cross Thyself, or be
Less than Thyself, or poor;
But whatsoever pleaseth Thee,
That canst Thou do, and more.
Who would not fear Thy searching eye,
Witness to all that’s true?
Dark hell and deep hypocrisy
Lie plain before its view.
Motions and thoughts, before they grow,
Thy knowledge doth espy;
What unborn ages are to do
Is done before Thine eye.
Thy wisdom which both makes and mends
We ever much admire;
Creation all our wit transcends,
Redemption rises higher.
Thy wisdom guides strayed sinners home,
’Twill make the dead world rise,
And bring those prisoners to their doom,
Its paths are mysteries.
Shepherd’s poems were called ‘Penitential Cries,’ and were published
with Mason’s Songs of Praise in 1693. His best-known hymn begins
Alas, my God, that we should be
Such strangers to each other!
O that as friends we might agree,
And walk, and talk together!
Most of his hymns have vigour and freshness, but there is generally
something which hinders them from becoming hymns of the first class.
The following verses are taken from a hymn entitled, ‘Lamenting the
Loss of First Love,’ and were probably known to Cowper—
O that my soul was now as fair
As it has sometimes been,
Devoid of that distracting care
Without, and guilt within.
There was a time when I could tread
No circle but of love;
That joyous morning now is fled,
How heavily I move!
Unhappy soul, that thou should’st force
Thy Saviour to depart,
When He was pleasèd with so coarse
A lodging in thy heart!
How sweetly I enjoyed my God!
With how divine a frame!
I thought, on every plant I trod
I read my Saviour’s name.
O might those days return again,
How welcome they should be!
Shall my petition be in vain,
Since grace is ever free?
Lord of my soul, return, return,
To chase away this night;
Let not Thine anger ever burn;
God once was my delight.
Other hymn-writers of this period are almost or entirely unknown to
modern hymnals. One or two names may, however, be mentioned. Matthew
Henry wrote a number of ‘family hymns’; Benjamin Keach (1640-1704) not
only wrote hymns by the hundred, but published a defence of
congregational singing under the title—_The Breach repaired in God’s
Worship_.
William Barton may be taken as a fair example of the poorer
hymn-writers of the time. There is little to choose between the best
and the worst of his _Six Centuries of Hymns_. The work was dedicated
to Sir Matthew Hale, who had spoken a good word for the hymns to the
Mayor and Aldermen of Leicester, in which town Barton had been
minister of St. Martin’s Church. Led by Dr. Julian’s statement that
these hymns ‘deserve more attention from compilers than they have
hitherto received,’ I have searched them diligently, but in vain. I am
most impressed that such dull productions could ever have been
popular.
There is, indeed, something very pathetic in the author’s evident
satisfaction with his work and in his son’s pride in his father’s
‘pious and laborious undertaking,’ which he was led to attempt,
‘finding that the ancient usage of our speech in Sternhold and
Hopkins’s translation was become obsoletely contemptuous to many
people of this age.’ This filial editor believed that the hymn-book
‘would sufficiently manifest its excellency in the perusal,’ a belief
which the extensive circulation of its many editions may be taken to
justify. Barton’s first book, his version of the Psalms, was published
in 1644, and the last edition was printed in 1768. During a great part
of that period it was probably the standard psalter of the
Nonconformist congregations. His hymns are usually brief, and he was
careful to use familiar metres, having a special weakness for
‘delicate and expeditious tunes.’ His psalms and hymns owed their long
life to the poverty of rivals, but one cannot be surprised that Enoch
Watts, in urging his brother ‘to oblige the world by showing it your
hymns in print,’ should say that ‘honest Barton chimes us asleep.’