_Hymns as Prayers_
When our feelings are deeply stirred by a crisis it is the most natural
thing to turn to God in prayer. Such an acknowledgment of the divine
resourcefulness in the face of human helplessness advertises the
inherent dignity of man, who finds that he is best able to overcome
difficulties by reliance upon God. Any person who is able to make such a
contact with the Source of Power through prayer is well equipped for the
tasks of life.
It is the filial spirit which inspires the tone and quality of prayer,
whereby we receive spiritual insight and moral strength for duty. It has
been well said that "prayer is the discipline of desire in the light of
the best consciousness of God that we can attain unto." We must recover
this practice of prayer for right living. It will reinforce us with
virtue and vitality to keep true to our best selves and fit us to meet
every demand. It is in actual experience and not by mere theorizing that
we find out the real efficacy of prayer.
Bishop Edwin H. Hughes, in _The Pastor Looks at His Work_,[28] reports
some of his experiences to show that
Hymns Are Prayers
"A little while ago I was in a service where a minister of no little
eminence was suddenly called on to pray. His response was simply the
repeating of the entire hymn, whose first stanza reads:
'My faith looks up to Thee,
Thou Lamb of Calvary,
Saviour Divine!
Now hear me while I pray,
Take all my guilt away,
Oh, let me from this day
Be wholly Thine!'
If one man's experience was typical, that individual hymn with its 'I'
and 'My' brought scores of people into a spiritual aggregate and made a
'common supplication.'
"Much of the same thing happened in the bishops' meeting not so long
ago. We were having a prayer service, only that, and it must have
continued for two and a half hours. One bishop's prayer that night was
simply a repeating of Whittier's hymn:
'Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our feverish ways;
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.'
As we were all on our knees we were led to treat that hymn as a public
prayer; and it was at once an inspiring and exalting thing. Our services
would be enriched beyond measure if only this spirit of prayer could be
more definitely attached to the songs of our corporate worship."
Here is a personal testimony from Fanny Crosby concerning
The Constant Companion of the Pilgrim Journey
"Toward the close of a day in the year 1874, I was sitting in my room
thinking of the nearness of God through Christ as the constant companion
of the pilgrim journey, when my heart burst out with the words:
'Thou my everlasting portion,
More than friend or life to me,
All along my pilgrim journey,
Saviour, let me walk with Thee.'"
How prayer is the inevitable opening for guidance is finely illustrated
in the circumstances which resulted in the writing of
"Lead, Kindly Light"
This well-known hymn was written by John Henry Newman when, as a young
clergyman of the Anglican Church, he lay sick and troubled in a vessel
which was becalmed in the Gulf of Palermo. He was restless to return to
England and perplexed concerning the future. His feelings were expressed
on the afternoon of June 16, 1833, in this prayer for guidance. The
well-known tune, "Lux Benigna," to which it is usually sung, was
composed in 1865 by Dr. J. B. Dykes as he walked through the crowded
Strand in London. It was done in ten minutes in what might seem to have
been an unfavorable place, and yet faith shows its power in overcoming
distractions and difficulties, as was done by this musician.
The author of this hymn later entered the Roman Catholic Church. He is
best known as Cardinal Newman but none of his writings, not even his
_Apologia Pro Vita Sua_, has exercised the influence of this prayer
hymn. To be sure, all who use it have not been guided as was the
cardinal. A friend recently remarked to me: "I was in the habit of
repeating these lines on board the ship which was bringing me a stranger
to the United States. The assurance that the Light still will lead me on
has remained with me during the years nor have I any reason to expect
that it will be different in the days to come."
Here is an experience about
An Eventide Prayer
A minister of long service and extensive travel went into the church of
a denomination other than that to which he belonged when away from home,
for evening worship. He was deeply impressed when the pastor offered as
the evening prayer some stanzas from a hymn:
"At even, ere the sun was set,
The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay;
O in what divers pain they met!
O with what joy they went away!
Once more 'tis eventide, and we,
Oppressed with various ills, draw near;
What if Thy form we cannot see?
We know and feel that Thou are here.
O Saviour Christ, our woes dispel;
For some are sick, and some are sad,
And some have never loved Thee well,
And some have lost the love they had.
. . . . . . . . .
Thy touch has still its ancient power,
No word from Thee can fruitless fall;
Hear in this solemn evening hour,
And in Thy mercy heal us all."
No words other than those of the hymn were spoken; but the visiting
minister affirmed that he never heard a more appropriate or appealing
prayer.
How calmness and poise are obtained are related in an experience
"Through the Long Night Watches"
A minister was once confined to bed by sickness. When Sunday came he
could hear the hymns which the congregation sang, for the parsonage
adjoined the church. Evening found him feverish and restless, but with
soothing effect came the closing hymn. Through the open window came the
prayerful lines:
"Now the day is over,
Night is drawing nigh;
Shadows of the evening
Steal across the sky;
Jesus, grant the weary
Calm and sweet repose;
With Thy tenderest blessing
May our eyelids close.
. . . . . . . . .
Through the long night watches
May Thine angels spread
Their white wings above me,
Watching round my bed."
The next Sunday morning the minister was back in his pulpit, and with a
spirit of gratitude announced the hymn:
"Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty!
Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;
Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty,
God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity."
How there was a change for the better during a sickness is revealed in
this account:
"Why, That's For Me"
A minister's wife with whom I am well acquainted has told of the time
when her only sister lay on a bed of pain in a hospital in one of the
suburbs of Chicago. Her father and mother, being sent for, reached the
bedside at nightfall. A brief interview was permitted. The father,
bending low above his girl, heard her faintly say, "Oh, Dad, I've lost
my grip." Great anxiety, therefore, was on his mind as he left the room.
Fearing the answer he might receive, yet hungering for news, the father
telephoned as early the next morning as he dared. "How is the girl
today?" was his agonized question.
"Holding her own. In fact, she has made slight progress through the
night," was the glad and astonishing answer. Father and mother,
therefore, soon hastened to the hospital. There they learned that the
daughter's recovery was now a possibility.
Later the parents learned the cause of the happy change. A window had
been opened by a nurse, and there came through it to the accompaniment
of a piano a clear baritone voice singing: "What a Friend we have in
Jesus!"
"Why, that's for me," whispered the sufferer, as she heard the words:
"Are we weak and heavy laden,
Cumbered with a load of care?
Precious Saviour, still our refuge,
Take it to the Lord in prayer."
Restful assurance was expressed in the closing lines:
"In His arms He'll take and shield thee,
Thou wilt find a solace there."
Making the words her prayer, by asking Christ to take and shield her,
she turned her face to the wall and the first natural sleep for weeks
followed. From that hour her recovery began.
Harriet Beecher Stowe awoke one morning to find herself famous as the
author of _Uncle Tom's Cabin_. The excellent reception given this book
was gratifying, but more than anything else was
The Satisfying Consciousness of God's Presence
She wrote her husband at this time, from the home of her brother, Henry
Ward Beecher, that she felt a wonderful consciousness of God's presence,
which above all else quieted and comforted and satisfied her soul. Then
she wrote out this experience in the beautiful hymn, "Still, still with
Thee," which first appeared in the Plymouth Hymnal. Set to Mendelssohn's
music, it is one of the richest recent additions to hymnology. This
hymn-prayer was the response of her soul and voiced a deep experience of
the peace that passeth all understanding. It tells most impressively
what are some of the benefits of prayer:
"Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,
When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee;
Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight,
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.
. . . . . . . . .
Still, still with Thee! As to each newborn morning
A fresh and solemn splendor still is given,
So does this blessed consciousness, awaking,
Breathe each day nearness unto Thee and heaven."
What the divine presence means is strikingly seen where a man in danger
was able to pray and to realize that he was
Not Alone
Seven men were buried beneath thousands of tons of rocks which fell
without a moment's warning in a Cornish tin mine early in the twentieth
century. Willing hands immediately began the work of rescue, though all
despaired of finding anyone alive. Their worst fears, however, were not
realized. One man was found a little distance from his comrades, and was
uninjured. The rocks had formed an arch over him.
Encouraged by finding this one miner, those who were engaged in the work
of rescue called loudly to ascertain if any others were alive and able
to speak. One man answered. He was an active Christian, and Sunday
School superintendent. "Are you alone?" he was asked. The questioner, of
course, was thinking of his fellow laborers. "No; Christ is with me,"
was the reply. "Are you injured?" was the next question. "Yes," answered
the imprisoned man, "my legs are held fast by something."
Those engaged in the conversation were then greatly surprised as they
heard this man, who often sang when descending to and ascending from his
daily task, now begin to sing in a feeble voice:
"Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens--Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me."
They heard no more from him. Two days later he was found with his legs
crushed by a huge rock which rested on them. Both his life and his last
words of song, however, gave the assurance that he had gone to be
"forever with the Lord."