~H S~t-.
Page 139. 
~~ffiTh~
i~~~'\~;~ 
Page 129.
i
i
i
i
i
i
i
I
i
I
oe.  
SONG VICTORIES
"THE BLISS AND SANKEY HYMNS,"
BEING A COLLECTION OF ONE IUNDRED INCI  DENTS IN REGARD TO THE ORIGIN AND
POWER OF THE HYMNS CONTAINED
IN "GOSPEL HYMNS AND
SACRED SONGS."
WITH AN INTRODUCTORY LETTER
BY REV. GEO. F. PENTECOST, D.D.
AND AN APPENDIX
CONTAINING BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF
MRi  IRA D. SANKEY AND MR.  P. P. BLISS.
9blislAed  by!..ofAro~ &  eo.
!over, /V. H.: G. T.  Oay & Co.
.'i.I
OF 
Copyright by
D. LOTHROP & CO.
1877. 
TO
TTEE SINr IN G EA2  GE  L IS TS,
THIS LITTLE BOOK
IS DEDICATED, WITH THE PRAYER THAT
IT MAY LEAD OTHERS TO
SING THE GOSPEL.
,_ (, Il  — I-,  )
-'T
rl)  
CONTENTS.
GBE
7
INTRODUCTORY LETTER.
[What a Pastor has Felt and Seen of the Power of Sacred Song
THE POWER OF SONG UPON CHILDHOOD..
POWER OF SONG IN YOUNG MANHIOOD...
SONG AS A DELIVERER.........
SONG AS A HELP TO CONSECRATION..
SONG AS A MEANS OF CONVERSION..
EYMNS Iw PUBLIC WORSHIP....
HYMNS IN THE PRAYEIMEETING...
THE POWER OF SONG IN THE REVIVAL WORK OF
MOODY AND SANKEY..........
HYMNT INCIDENTS,...........
CONSECRATED VO1CES..........................
APPENDIx..............
Biographical Sketch of Mr. I. D. Sankey..
'Dora,,hi,a,,.,7Sk.,tch of M. P. P.  7Blss.. 
3
8
(t-)
11
15
17
19
20
21
31
I25
129
129
139 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX
OF
HYMN INCIDENTS.
PAGE
..  115
*    *.   91
..  118
.   48
..   46
*    *.  119
..  108
.... 112
..  112
.         106
..    47
.          51
..   31
Almost persuaded,.......
All hail the power of Jesus' name,.
Arise, my soul, arise,.....
Brightly beams our Father's mercy,.
Come home! come home!....
Come thou Fount of every blessing,.
Depths of mercyl can there be,..
Free from the law, oh happy condition,
Guide me, O thou Great Jehovah,.
Have you on the Lord believed?..
Hold the fort,....
I am coming to the cross,...
I am so glad that our Father in heaven,
4 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX.
PAGE
.   60
.    43
.   55
*.   62
.  120
.    50
.   57
. 102
.  100
.   98
o.   51
.  122
. 53
.   86
.   58
.   37
.  119
.   93
.   43
I gave my life for thee,.......
I hear the Saviour say,.......
In the Christian's home in glory,....
Jesus, lover of my soul,......
Just as I am without one plea,...
Light in the darkness, sailor,...
Lord, I hear of showers of blessing,..
My faith looks up to Thee,.....
Nearer, my God, to Thee,.....
O for a thousand tongues to sing,...
Only an armor-bearer,.......
Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,.
Ring the bells of heaven,.....
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,.....
Safe in the arms of Jesus,......
Sowing the seed by the daylight fair,..
Stand up, stand up for Jesus,...
There is a fountain filled with blood,..
There is a gate that stands ajar,...
5 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX.
PAGE
There is a land of pure delight,........ 116
There were ninety and nine,..........          107
To-day the Saviour calls,..........            60
What means this eager, anxious throng?...  40
Yet there is room! the Lamb's bright hall of song,.   45
6 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER.
"SING ye praises with the understanding."
"Our days of praise shall ne'er be past
While life and thought and being last,
Or immortality endures."
I have fancied sometimes the Bethel-bent beam
That trembled to earth in the Patriarch's dream,
Was a ladder of song in that wilderness rest
From the pillow of stone to the blue of the Blest,
And the angels descending to dwell with us here,
"Old Hundred," and " Corinth," and "China," and "Meat."
WHAT A PASTOR HAS FELT AND SEEN OF THE
POWER OF SACRED SONG.
BY REV. GEO. F. PENTECOST, OF BOSTON.
My Dear Brother:
You ask me to give you, from my own
personal experience and observation, any facts
7 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
in relation to the use and power of sacred song
in connection with the work of the Holy
Spirit for the conversion and sanctification of
sinners; and I most gladly bear my testimony.
I presume my experience is not different
in kind from that of all other Christians who
have submitted themselves to God under this
wonderful instrument of the Spirit.
THE POWER OF SONG UPON CHILDHOOD.
Some of my earliest religious  awakenings
were in connection with the hymns for children that were just beginning to be sung in
the Sabbath-schools when I was yet a little
boy. I mention one beginning:
"I think when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
How He called little children like lambs to His fold:
I should like to have been with them then."
That little hymn would always  quiet me
and beget within my heart seriousness and
longing.  When as a child I used to hear or
sing it, I would wonder if there was any blessing that I might have from Jesus that would
correspond to His calling little children to Him,
8 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
and laying His gentle, loving hands on their
heads and blessing them. And in after years,
when I had grown to be a young man, away
from  home,  and far from  God  by  wicked
works,  that  little  hymn  of  my  childhood
would often come to my memory; and more
than once I have sung it with choking voice
and  tearful  eye, and with motions of real
penitence in my heart. It is true that these
effects were transient, but they were real and
mighty; and I doubt not that God used that
child's hymn and the sweet echoes of many
others- now forgotten - to keep my heart
from becoming perfectly hardened against His
"gentle voice."
POWER OF SONG IN YOUNG MANHOOD.
To-day, on looking back over the fourteen
years that have passed since I gave my life to
Jesus,  among  the  precious  recollections  of
those happy days I recall a few dear old hymns
that sung themselves into my heart, and taught
me truths of God that otherwise I might not
have learned, and led me to the sources of
joy and delight which otherwise I might not
9 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
have found. I can hear those voices now, that
used to lead the singing in that blessed revival
time. Some of them, it is true, were poor and
cracked and  discordant-it was a congregation     of "common people"- and would have
utterly spoiled and ruined any songs other than
those of the sanctuary, that were sung in
those hours of the Spirit's presence and power,
with hearts making melody to the Lord. I
think it was the singing of that simple old
hymn and chorus- which I now quote-  that
awakened in me the desire to be a Christian,
by setting before me its promise of "sweetest
pleasure" and "solid comfort" in strong contrast with the unsatisfying portions I was getting from worldly pleasures, and the fear and
dread   of death that was so constantly before
me:    -
"'Tis religion that can give,
In the light, in the light,
Sweetest pleasure while we live;
In the light of God.
'Tis religion must supply,
In the light, in the light,
Solid comfort when we die,
In the light of God.
10 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Let us walk in the light,
In the light, in the light,
Let us walk in the light,
In the light of God."
Eternity only will reveal the power that
hymn had over me, both in bringing me to
God, and in strengthening and encouraging
me in the first days of trial and temptation
that came to me as a young Christian.
Time would fail me to speak at length
of my experimental relations to those old
classics,
"There is a fountain filled with blood,"
"Rock of ages, cleft for me,"
"Jesus, lover of my soul," &c.
SONG AS A DELIVERER.
I am profoundly sure that among the divinely ordained instrumentalities for the conversion and sanctification of the soul, God
has not given a greater, beside the preaching
of the gospel, than the singing of  "psalms
and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs."   I  have
known a hymn to do God's work in a soul
when every other instrumentality has failed.
I could not enumerate the times God has
11 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
rescued and saved my soul from darkness,
discouragement, and weariness, by the singing of a hymn, generally by bringing one to
my own heart and causing me to sing it to
myself.
A  year or two after I entered the ministry, I passed through an experience that on
the dark side of it culminated in leading me
to believe not only that I had been mistaken
in supposing that God had called me to the
work of the ministry, but also that I was
even mistaken in supposing that I was a
Christian at all. Oh! the blackness and darkness of those hours!  I cannot portray the
dense gloom that gathered about my soul,
and was fairly pressing me down to hell.
In this fearful state of mind, having almost
yielded up to despair, I was returning to my
home from a neighboring town where I had
been assisting(?) a "ministering brother" in
a  "protracted meeting."   I got aboard the
train, flung myself into a seat next a window of the car, and made another desperate
effort to recover myself, my faith, my hope,
my confidence in God. I prayed in Spirit,
12 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
I even called aloud on God, unmindful of
the people around me; I went over the
promises; and searched my memory  through
for some word of the Lord that would bring
me help.'But God's Word was a silent and
sealed book for me, and my heart seemed to
be turning into stone. In the midst of this
wretchedness I was looking out of the car
window up into the star-lit heavens, and wondering if there was a God, if there was any
Jesus, any Christ, if there was any hereafter.
While thus gazing into the dimly lighted
darkness without, from out of the midnight
darkness within, with only the numb sense
of my own wretchedness, as a man might
feel who knows he is freezing to death without power to help himself, and, indeed, not
caring to any longer, because it seems easier
to die, I heard the low voice of singing in
my          heart, I say I heard the voice of singing
within nie, and harkening I caught the words
of  it, and with my own lips in low, tremulous tones began to sing,        "Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee:
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my all shall be."
13 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
I wondered at myself and at the song —I found
my  heart softening -I knew that tears were
in my eyes- I felt them running down my
cheeks-I was away back with Jesus on the
cross-I heard his cry, "My God! My God!
why hast thou forsaken me?" and in that
same moment the Holy Ghost gave me fellowship with my Saviour, and I knew that cry
from him was not for himself alone, but for
me. I sang on through the hymn with still
melting heart, with returning faith, hope and
confidence, until in a perfect ecstacy of peace
I reached the lines,
"Oh,'tis not in griefs to harm me,
While Thy love is left to me;
Oh!'twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmixed with Thee."
And then, like a comforted child, I fairly laid
my weary heart against His dear loving heart,
knowing in my soul that He loved me, that
He died and rose again for me, that He lived
for me and that as never before we were united
to each other. Thus that precious hymn was
God's hand reached out to save me when I
was sinking; thus He was pleased to manifest
14 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Himself to me in a sweeter, surer, and stronger
way than I had  yet known him.   He had
chosen to do this by and in a hymn, ratherF
than by prayer, or meditation, or promise. As
the cake baked on the coals and the cruse
of water at his head were to Elijah, so was
that hymn to me; at least it was the hand
of the angel that touched me and pointed me
to the "true bread" and the "living water"
in the strength of which, having eaten and
drank, I went many days, yea, and am still
even now walking.
SONG AS A HELP TO CONSECRATION.
Years after when I was passing through consecration into deeper fellowship with the Lord,
it pleased him to use that same hymn again;
this time not so much for immediate comfort
as for searchiny.   By  inward  teaching  the
Spirit was making me to know something of
the meaning of the Master when he said, "If
any man will come after me let him deny
himself, and take up his cross daily and follow
me."  Whilst I was learning somewhat painfully this lesson, I was one day suddenly
]5 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
checked  in  the singing of  this, one of  my
favorite' hymns, with the distinct question,
"'can  you truly sing,'Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Th7zee?"'
I say I found myself checked in the singing
of it for a long time; until, in my deepest
heart and purpose, I had truly denied myself
into   his hands, to be "armed with the same
mind." But now,." thanks be unto God who
always giveth us the victory," after having
been searched by it, as I was never searched
before, I can joyfully and honestly sing that
doubly dear old hymn "in the Spirit and with
the        understanding also."   The  Lord  always
makes it a great comfort and power to my
soul. And as a response to that hymn, now,
always come those lines of Charles Wesley's
great psalm,         "Thou, 0 Christ, art all I want,
More than all in Thee I find."
I might magnify the grace of God ministered
to me,  by reference  to  many  more  hymns,
but as the above may serve for illustrations
of the use God has made of hymns in deal
16 
TROPIIIES OF SONG.
ing with my own soul, I pass to record, in,
a similar manner, the power of song as I
have witnessed it in others, coming under
my own pastoral care.
SONG AS A MEANS OF CONVERSION.
I said above that I have known a hymn
to be used of God for the conversion of a
soul where every other means had failed to
bring light into the darkened and troubled
heart.   Once I was  detained after prayermeeting with a few others, to converse and
pray with a young woman who was under
deep conviction, and who refused to go away
from the place of prayer until she had found
Jesus. It seemed to be all in vain that I
talked with her, explaining the atonement,
quoting the simplest and strongest promises
of the gospel, and urging her to an immediate  and simple faith;  it was all in vain
that       I prayed with and for her.   At last,
because- as it seemed- I could do nothing
else, I began to sing that little hymn, the
last verse of which goes,
"Oh! bear my longing heart to Him
Who bled and died for me;
17 
.. TROPHEI S OF SONG.
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin,
And gives me victory."
We had sung the whole hymn through, and
were hushed into silence by the Spirit. During the singing of the last stanza, our friend
had lifted her weeping face toward mine,
and was looking intently and eagerly at me,
as though she would fain drink in the words
and power of the song. And now in the
hush that was upon us, reaching out both
her hands to me, she said, in a plaintive
kind of whisper,  "Please sing that last verse again."
And again we sang, softly and tenderly,        "Oh! bear my longing soul to Him
Who bled and died for me;
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin,
And gives me victory."
As the words and melody died away, the
expression of her face changed; the darkness
was overpast, and the light and gladness of
His peace had come in the place of it; and
with a cry of joy she turned and flung herself into the arms of her sister, who was
standing near, exclaiming,  "I am saved!  I
am saved!! Oh! blessed Jesus," &c.
18 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Incidents of this kind might be multiplied,
but this  one  may  suffice  to  illustrate  the
power of song in the conversion of souls to
God.
HYMNS IN PUBLIC WORSHIP.
It would be easy to fill many pages with
interesting facts in connection with the use
of hymns in the public worship of the house
of God.  I have seen vast audiences melted
and swayed by a simple hymn when they
have been unmoved  by a powerful presentation of the gospel from  then pulpit.   From
close  and  repeated  observation,  I  am  persuaded  that  Mr.  Spurgeon, the great  metropolitan preacher  of England, places great
reliance on the use of his hymns  in public
worship. By them he prepares his vast audiences for the service that is to follow; and
fastens his discourse with a hymn, which he
always reads with great power, and which is
sung by that vast choir of 7500 people with
an effect that is indescribable.   Indeed,  the
use of hymns in the service of the sanctuary,
when in the hands of a pastor or leader who
understands and feels the'inspiration of them,
0
19 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
cannot  be  too  highly  estimated.   It is a
great pity that the power of "psalms and
hymns and spiritual songs" has been so sadly
weakened, if not utterly destroyed by the
introduction of "fancy quartettes," who sing
neither with the "spirit nor with the understanding," and who practically forbid any one
else to sing. L]ord, hasten the day when the
service of song shall be restored to the people.
IN THE PRAYER-MEETING
Hymns are simply indispensable. A pastor
skilled in the use of them holds the prayermeeting almost absolutely in his power.  An
unfortunate or ill-timed address or exhortation
may be coyered by a hymn, and the people's
hearts and minds brought back to God. A
pungent address, a ringing testimony, or a prevaling prayer may be strongly supplemented and
reinforced by a well chosen hymn  -promptly
and sweetly sung, which, without giving out
page or number, shall have sprung spontaneously from the lips of the pastor or any brother
or sister in the congregation who has spiritual
discernment. For nfyself I should feel utterly
4
20 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
lost, and without. "sword " or "trowel" for the
building and defence of the wvalls of Zion, if I
were withliout the "armory" and "kit" of hymns
which God has given the church "to profit
withal."
THE POWER OF SONG IN THE REVIVAL WORK
OF MOODY AND SANKEY.
I shall close this letter by giving  a brief
account of the triumph of song  as seen in
connection with the great revival of the last
few years on both sides of the Atlantic. All
know the story of the "two" simple-hearted and
"unlearned" men -Moody and Sankey- who
went only a few years ago, "led of the spirit,"
to the British Isles, to preach and sing the gospel "there also."  Moody withl his open Bible,
Sankey with his budget of stirring hymns, and
his sweet God-given and sanctified voice.  It
is exceedingly doubtful fromn all the testimony
I could gather which had the most to do
in the awakening and stirring which Scotland and Ireland have received at their hands.
Whether most is to be ascribed to Moody's
preaching, or a Sankey's singing - one with sim
21
.i 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
ple words of truth, the other with sweetest
song -represent a two-edged instrument which
the Holy Spirit has been pleased to use in the
accomplishment of this mighty work.   But
certain it is that whoever visits Scotland for
years to come will know that Sankey has been
there,  for he  has  sung  a  hundred  sweet
songs into the hearts and spiritual lives of
more than twenty thousand converts to Jesus,
and has filled the whole land, Highlands and
Lowlands, with their sacred echoes.
Eminent Scotch clergymen told me, while
in conversation with them on this subject, that
it was Sankey's singing that melted the hearts
of the  people  and  made  an open door for
Moody with his Bible lessons, for such they
were rather than sermons. Of course this is
not mentioned to disparage the preaching of
the gospel- God  forbid-but only to show
the relation of song to the spoken word. This
service of song in Scotland was not a passing
gift- it is a permanent legacy. None mav
reproduce Moody's matchless Bible expositions,
but all Scotland for years to come will sing
Sankey's songs.
22
an4 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
It,vas in the Barkley church in Edinburgh
where these apostles of the Word and song began their work, having been invited thither
by  th e noble pastor, Rev. James Wilson, who
was            an advanced advocate of "hymns  and
spiritual      songs," as well as "psalms."  I was
in that church, the guest of the pastor, during
a crowded Thursday evening prayer-meeting.
In deference to the time-honored custom of
the Scotch, Mr. Wilson gave out a paraphrase
of one of David's psalms. The congregation
did bravely and well, considering the meter
and the  melody (?).   But after the meeting
was formally opened, the book of Paraphrases
was quietly tucked under the pulpit and one
of our little American hymns announced: -
'I hear thy gentle voice,
That calls me, Lord, to thee;
For cleansing in the precious blood
That flowed on Calvary."
In a twinkling every one present whipped out
of pocket a little penny -copy of "Sankey's
Hymns;" every face was radiant, and every
voice was  vocal.  The  house seemed  filled
with the Spirit, and every heart seemed to be
23 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
pouring out its faith and hope to God in the
hymn that had in all probability led many
of those present to Christ, and had quickened the faith and hope of all. I hope the
Paraphrases will not be given up, and I am
sure they will not; but they will be improved,
some of them, and sung all the better for the
baptism that they are being baptized with -
how are they straitened until it be accomplished. I witnessed the same effect in Dr.
Wallace's great congregation in Glasgow, the
same in Dr. Bonar's church, the same in the
great noonday meetings in Assembly Hall, and
in other places that I visited. Indeed, Scotland is ringing with songs and gladness to-day.
Riding once from Ayr to Glasgow on a thirdclass train crowded with the  " common  people," who had been.'off on some excursion,
my ears were filled all the way with the melody of those' revival hymns, which rose ever
-and anon above the noise of the rushing train,
and rang out clear and beautiful when we
stopped for a few moments at the stations along
the line. It seemed as though we were on
board the very car of salvation, being speeded
24 
TROPHBIES OF SONG.
along by bands of singing angels come to convoy us.
..  Again,  one  Sunday  evening  I  left  my
hotel in Glasgow  to  go  to  Dr.  Andrew
Bonar's church, some two miles distant. On
my way I was treated to a novel spectacle,
and one which was repeated every few hundred   yards until I reached  the  church.   I
will describe it: I had gone but a little
way from the hotel when my ears were
greeted with the familiar strains: -
"Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast,
There by His love o'ershaded,
Sweetly my soul shall rest."
Looking ahead of me I saw a crowd, from
whence  came  the  singing.   Pressing  up  I
joined the multitude of men, women and
children' gathered about a little band of
brothers and sisters in the Lord, who were
holding a service of song on the street corner.  This little company could  not  preach,
in the technical sense of that word, but they
could singy the glad gospel out on the evening  air, and thus say  to all,  " come!"   I
25 
TROPIHIES OF SONG.
was very deeply impressed with their simple
service, for they were evidently engaging in
it as a matter that was to be done unto
the Lord. As they passed from the singing
of one hymn to another, sometimes slipping
in a brief prayer between, I noted the effect
upon the crowd.   Though  made  up  mostly
of the street rabble, such as is seen only in
the large cities of Great Britain, it was
hushed into quiet, and even eager attention
to the singing.   My  attention was called to
some faces grown serious and thoughtful as
they hearkened to words  of love  and hope,
and more than once I saw the tears stealing
down the grim cheek of some sinner unused
to weep.   Thus was  God  at work in those
neglected hearts, and doubtless His dear love
crept into many  a soul through those songs.
As I have already said, these singing bands
with their attendant crowds were stationed
all the way down the long street to the
church, at intervals of a few hundred yards,
and doubtless  other of  the principal streets
of the city were similarly occupied.   In no
other way, it seems to me, could the gospel
26
0
t 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
have been so effectually preached to that
class of people.
At Dr: Bonar's church, which I reached at
last, I found the same programme, only a
little extended.  There was no preacher - it
was vacation time-but a few earnest brethren
were occupying the platform, who in turn
would speak a few words, perhaps relate some
incident connected with the great revival, or
rehearse the story of some remarkable con version, and then a hymn would be announced
-for instance: -
"I hear the Saviour say,
Thy strength indeed is small,"
and then the whole congregation worshiping
God would fill the church with the sound
of their song.
These incidents, as those of the other classes
given above, might be multiplied, but perhaps
enough has been said.
In concluding this letter, will it be out of
place to express the hope  and  venture  the
prediction that this revival of sacred song is
the forerunner or first fruits of a general
27 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
revival of religion in the church of God? I
believe it, and hail it as one who, watching
for the morning, hails the gray dawn and roseate
light in the East.  "Even so, come Lord Jesus,
come quickly."
28
I 
INCIDENTS ASSOCIATED
WITH OUR
POPULAR HYMNS.
When Haydn was asked why his music was
so cheerful, he  replied, "I can't make  any
other. I write as I feel. When I think on
God my heart is so full of joy that the notes
dance and leap from my pen."
29 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
" We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs,
High as the heavens our voices raise."
"Lord, teach our songs to rise;
Thy love can animate the strain,
And bid it reach the skies."
"Learning here, by faith and love,
Songs of praise to sing above."
"The great salvation lozd proclaim,
And shout forjoy the Saviour's name."
"With calmly reverential joy,
Oh, let us all our lives employ
In setting forth thy love;
And raise in death our triumph higher,
And sing with all the heavenly choir,
The endless song above."
St. Augustine thus describes the effect which the music had upon
him as he entered the church at Milan the first time after he was
converted to Christianity: "The voices floated in at my ears, the
truth was distilled at mny heart, and the affection of piety overflowed in the sweet tears of joy."
30 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
HYMN INCIDENTS.
" I AM SO GLAD THAT OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN
TELLS OF HIS LOVE IN THE BOOK HE HAS GIVENX."
THIS popular song, which was the rallying cry
of the great revival in Scotland and also of many
i n    Ame     rica, was suggested to Mr. Bliss by hearing v     ery frequently the chorus,
"0 how I love Jesus!"
He said to himself, "I have sung long enough of
my  poor love for Chtrist, and now I will sing of
1lis love for me."  He sat down and wrote the
delightful and inspiring song of which the first
verse is,-  
"I am so glad that our Father in heaven
Tells of his love in the Book he has given;
Wonderful things in the Bible I see,
This is the dearest that Jesus loves me."
ONE Sunday a mfan came  into our Sunda3yschool  at  tle  Boston  North  End   Mission,
drawn by the sweetness of tihe chlildren's singing.  He remainii ed until the  close, a)d c.llme
31
I 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
again that evening to our prayer-meeting.
When the customary invitation to seek the
Saviour was given, he came forward and found
"peace in believing." To a few of us who
had remained to pray with the penitent seekers he said, "My friends, I feel that I'm a
saved man, and I owe it to your children's sinyingy' Jesus loves mne,' this afternoon. I couldn't
realize it, I've been such a miserable sinner;
but after I went away I thought it over,' Jesus loves me;' and then I thought of the
next line,'For the Bible tells me so,' and I
tried to believe it, and I came here this evening
to get you to pray for me." He became a
regular attendant at the Mission, and while
with us gave the clearest evidence of a genuine change of heart.
This is but one of very many similar instances of almost weekly occurrence at this
Mission. This same man soon after felt called
by the Holy Spirit to prepare himself for the
Christian ministry, and at present he is regularly occupying a pulpit in  Massachusetts,
spending much of his time during the week
in lecturing upon the evils of intemperance.
E. Tourje'e.
32 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
AT one of the revival meetings at Edinburgh
a        gay, giddy girl attended.  She went late and
was unable to get a seat, so she wandered about
i n the     hall outside.  Inside the church they
were        singing, led by Mr. Sankey: —
"Oh, I am so glad
That Jesus loves me,
Jesus loves me,
Jesus loves me."
The words went to her heart and her conscience,
and she said, "I cannot sing that."  When that
meeting broke up she went to the meeting for
anxious inquiries, and is now a rejoicing Christian.
A  MISSIONARY  of  the' American  SundaySchool Union in Missouri, after hie had organized
a Sunday-scbool recently,  sang  to them  Mr.
Bliss' delightful sonlg,          "I am so glad that Jesus loves me,"
and followed it with the question, "Are you
glad? If not, why? " He had hardly finished
when a young man rose, and rushing up to him,
threw his arms around his neck,_sobbing, "Oh,
33 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
sir, you must not leave here till I'm a Christian!"
Prayer was offered for him, and he was saved.
Thell he exclaimed, " Oh, that song!  I could
not get away from it and it has saved me.".
A YOUNG woman in England went to a meeting       where she heard Mr. Sankey singing this
same  hymn,
"I am so glad that Jesus loves me,"
and while the hymn was being sung, began to
feel for the first time in her life that she was a
sinner. All her sins came up in -array before
her; and so numerous and aggravated did her
sins appear, that she imagined she never could
be saved.  She said in her heart," Jesus cannot
love me.  He could not love suich a sinner as I."
She went home in a state of extreme mental
anguish, and did not sleep that night. Every
opportunity of obtaining more light was eagerly
seized.  She took her place in the "Enquiry
Room."  There she found to her astonishment
and joy that Jesus could, DID, DOES love sinners.
She saw in God's opened Word that it was for
34 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
sinners Jesus died, and for none others. When
she realized thlis she too began to sing:
"I am so glad that Jesus loves me,
Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me, even me."
IN a praise meeting, during the recent revival
services in Chicago, Mr. Sankey spoke as follows
in regard to the power of this and other hymns:
"What I have to thank God especially for is
the wonderful way Ile has used the power of
song. I remember about five years ago coming
to yonder depot one morning early. It was my
first visit to this great city, and I knew none
here save one man. I went along Madison
Street, up State Street, to the North Side, and
met my dear brother Moody.  I had met him
one year before in a distant State, while he wasengaged in the work of the Master. As I went
along those streets I recollect how I wondered if
God had a work here for me in my coming to
this city, or whether I had come on my own volition, and how while thinkling in this way I sent
up a prayer to God to bless me in the service in
which I was about to engage. With thankful
85 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
ness I remember the very first day I spent in
this city.  Somewhere  down  here we  came
among the sick and lowly, and went from one
house to another singing and praying with the
people; and what a blessing we received!
"God led us into other fields. I remember
when the Tabernacle was rebuilt how I used to
enjoy gathering the little people in, and teaching them those sweet songs that are already encircling the globe. Yes, encircling the globe,
for but a few days ago I received a copy of these
Gospel hymns printed in the Chinese language.
They are sung in Africa and Asia, and are heard
in France and Germany, England and America.
I remember what peace and pleasure I had as I
first taught these little hymns on the North Side.
One day a lady called on me when I first had
those classes, and said,'There is a little singing
girl belonging to one of your classes who is dying. She wants you to go and see her.' I went
to her home -a little frame cottage, - and
there I found a little maid dying - one whom I
had known so well in the Thursday evening
meetings.  I said,' My dear child, how is it with
you?''Will you pray for  my  father and
a8 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
mother as you pray for us?" was the reply.
' 3ut how is it with yourself?' I again asked.
',Oh, sir,' shle answered,'they tell me I am about
to die, but I have found the Lord Jesus Christ.'
'When did you become a Christian?"' I inquired.
'Don't you remember one Thursday when you
were teaching me to sing -
"' "I am so glad that Jesus loves me,
Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me;"
and don't you remember how you told us that if
we only gave our hearts to Him, He would love
us?- and I gave it to Him.'
"What that little dying girl said to me helped
to cheer me on more than anything I had heard
before, because she was my first convert. Thank
God, there have been many since."
" SOWING THE SEED BY THE DAYLIGHT FAIR."
IN one of the temperance meetings connected
with Mr. Moody's revival labors in Chicago, a
very intelligent reformed drunkard attributed
his reform to the influence of this hlymn.
He confessed that it was difficult to speak
about past experiences, especially when a man
37 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
had been a heavy drinker, as he had been for
sixteen years.  He began sixteen years before
by t'aking his first bottle of ale in the back room
of a country store, and thlen, entering the army,
hlie had plunged into dissipation, from which he
thought at first he could free himself; but, as
the years went by, he found the habit had become so strong that he couldn't control it, for it
controlled him.  He had stood at the mouth of
the cannon, in front of the fixed bayponet, -with
the muzzle of a pistol right before him, and yet
never had felt there such heart-sinking as he experienced when he began to realize what a man
was, fettered by this vice.   ie came to this city
some little time agto, and spent most of his days
and nights in drinking and in playing cards,
sometimes drinking thirty or forty drinks a day.
While in this condition one night he came to the
Tabernacle out of curiosity, to hear what was
being said, and to see what was being done. He
sat in the gallery, and was shielded by one of the
long wooden pillars that upheld the roof. He
saw the crowds enter with happy faces, and apparently light hearts, and nice clothes, and it
hardened his heart, for he felt that he could
88 
TROPHIES OF, SONG.
never be like them. Then he heard Mr. Sankey
sing the hymn " What Shlall the Harvest Be?",
It struck him w-hen he heard the first verse:
"Sowing the seed by the daylight fair,
Sowing the seed by the noonday glare,
Sowing the seed by the fading light,
Sowing the seed in the solemn night.
Oh, what shall the harvest be?
Oh, what shall the harvest be?"
And then, said he, Mr. Sankey sang the third
verse, a verse that entered my heart. It roused
me from my stupor. It brought me to feel what
miy own condition was, and these words entered
my soul:\
" Sowing the seed of a lingering pain,
Sowing the seed of a maddened brain,
Sowing the seed of a tarnished name,
Sowing the seed of eternal shame.
Oh, what shall the harvest be?
Oh, what shall my harvest be?"
During the recital of these lines, the speaker's
voice trembled, his whole frame was agitated,
his words and manner were impressed on his auditors, many of whom were moved to tears, and
sobbing was audible in many parts of the great
hall.  He then went on to say that that night he
39 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
had listened to this hymn, describing his own
experience, he founiid no rest; the words seemed
to m    eet him wherever he went,
"What shall the harvest be?"
They were written on the walls of the room in
the hotel where he boarded. They haunted him
wherever he went. He tried to drown the voice
by drinking heavier, but he couldn't remove
the m.   There they were wherever he turned,
"What shall the harvest be?"
He left the Taberinacle saying to himself he
would never return; but finally, such was his
unrest, he went  into the  inquiry-room,' and
talked with Mr. Farwell and Mr. Brewster, and
after a great struggle he gave himself to Christ.
IHe trusted in the salvation wrought out for him,
and, though he had lost position, home, family
by the accursed cup, he rejoiced that God had
looked down on him and saved hiim.
"WIHAT MEANS THIS EAGER, ANXIOUS THRONG?"
-Rev. E. P. ffammond.
PERHAPS no hymn has been oftener sung during the last ten years in evangelistic meetings
40
I 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
than the one with the above heading. It will
be interesting to many to learn the circumstances whlichi suggested it.  It was originally written as a description of the powerful revival of
religion in Newark, N. J., in 1864, when hlundreds were led by the Holy Spirit to find peace
and joy in believing in Jesus.
It was on a Saturday afternoon, whlen one of
the largest churches was crowded with children
and adults, that R. G. Pardee, that dear man
who has done so much for Sunday-schools in
America, made some very impressive remarks on
the answer given to blind Bartimeus in Luke
xviii. 37: "They told him that Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."
MIiss Campbell was present, and shortly after
wrote those words which have been sung by
thousands and tens of thousands the world over.
It struck me that they might be set to music,
and I found they went very well to the tune,
"Sweet Hour of Prayer." There were originally nine verses, if I remember rightly, but I
only printed seven in the New Praises of Jesus.
It has always been popular in evangelistic meetings, and multitudes by it have been awakened,
41 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
and led to cry out, as did the blind man, "Jesus,
thou son of David, have mercy on me."
I remember that a gambler came into a morn ing meeting, which crowded a Congregational
church in Locklport, N. Y., while we were singing that hymn, and at the close of it, though it
was the first meeting hle had attended, hle arose,
and with tears streaming down his cheeks,
begged the Christians to pray for him.  Earnest
prayer at once ascended in his behalf, and it was
answered. A few nights after, in relating his
experience before a great audience in Dr. Wisner's church, he referred to this hymn as having
been the means of awakening him, and added:
"As I went out of the church that day, and
over the canal, I threw the' Devil's Testament,'
with its fifty-two leaves into it."
I am sure he never played a card afterwards
He lived a consistent Christian life, and has since
died a happy death. I might fill pages relating
similar instances to illustrate the good this hymn
has accomplished.  Night after night during the
past winter, not only in Great Britain, under the
leadership of Brother Sankey, but also in California and Orergon, it has been sung by thou
42 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
sands who will remnember it to all eternity.  The
verses together are a sermon in themselves.
Prof. Theo. E. Perkins has written some very
appropriate music for this hymn, which is a favorite with Mr. Sanlkey, and is often heard at
Brother Moody's revival meetings.
It is my earnest prayer that multitudes more
may be led by this hymn so earnestly to call
upon thle Saviour, that they, too, may receive
their sigrht, and hear Him  saying,: "Thy faith
hath saved thlee."
" I HEAR THE SAVIOUR SAY,  AND " THEIRE IS A
GATE THAT STANDS AJAR."
Maggie Lindsay, a girl of seventeen, who
had been for some time a pupil-teacher in the
Free  Chuich  Normal  Seminary, Edinburgh,
found the Saviour in the Free Assembly Hall, on
the last night of 1873. On the 27th of January
following she was journeying by train to Aberdeen, when a terrible accident took place at
Manuel, near Linlithgow.  She was  amongst
those who were most seriously injured, both legs
being brolkenl, and a rib, with other wounds of a
43' 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
painful character.  Hfer sufferings were acute,
but she     bore up under them with "gentle Christian heroism," as an eye-witness testifies; such
as  d    rew forth the  admiration of all around.
When the terrible crash on the railroad happened,     she had been reading Mr. Sankey's hymnbook,        and there was the mnark of a turned-down
leaf at  her favorite hymni, " The Gates Ajar,"
with     its touching refrain,
"' Oh, depths of mercy I can it be
That gate was left ajar for me?"
During her last hours it was affecting to hear
her, amidst so great suffering, sing softly to her.
self,
" For me, for me?"
Another hymnn-bookl, "Phillips' Hallowed Songs,"
was recovered from the debris, "its pages stained
with her own blood." "At one time," writes
the minister who attended her during the last
moments of life, "when  we  thought she had
falleln into a sleep, eagerly wished and prayed
for by us, we moved away out of sight.  But in
a few minutes  we heard her, in low, gentle
tones, singingc to herself the words, —
44 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
'Nothing, either great or small,
Remains for me to do;
Jesus died, and paid it all,
All the debt I owe.'
Shortly afterwards she fell asleep in Jesus.
' Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.'"
" YET THERE IS ROOM! THIIE LAMB'S BRIGHT HALL
OF SONG."
A GAY, thoughtless young woman, in Scotland,
was one day invited by an acquaintance to accollmpany her to a Moody and Sankey meeting.  She
declined to go, saying she did not care to hear
Moody and Sankey. On being further pressed,
she consented and went. She was not impressed
by anything she heard in the course of the meeting.  Indeed, she thought there was "nothing
in it," and wondered why people should make
so much ado about what seemed so commonplace.  The last lhymn, " Yet there is Room "
was being sung by Mr. Sanlkey alone.  He had
reached the last stanza
"Ere night that gate may close, and seal thy doom,
Then the last, low, long cry,' No room, no room!'
No room, no room; oh, woful cry,'No room!' "
45 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
These last words of Dr. Bonar's hymn fell upon
the ear of the young womanl like a sudden thunder-clap. She left the meeting, but the words
went with her.  "No room, no room!"  still
rang in her ears.   conscience awoke  at the
sound of this warning bell.  Nor could she rest,
until, as she trusts, she found rest in the great
Redeemer.
"COME HOME! COME HOME!"
IN Victoria lHall, Sunderland, England, Mr.
Moody one evening closed his sermon with the
story of a prodigal son, who was reconciled to
his          father-  as hle stood by the bed of his dyi'ng
mother. Then Mr. Sankey sang,
"Oh, prodigal child, come home."
When the audience had been dismissed, there
came into the enquiry meeting a young man
who had long played the part of the prodigal
son, to the great grief of his godly parents.
With a face marked with deepest penitence he
came up to his father and mothler, and throwing
his arms about them, with many tears asked
their forgiveness and also the pardon of God for
46 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
his sins. The prodigal child had a double welcome from God and man.
"Come home! come home!
You are weary at heart,
For the way has been dark,
And so lonely and wild,
0 prodigal child!
Come home, oh come home!
" HOLD THE FORT.?)
WHEN General Sherman was marching "from
Atlanta to the Sea," he left a detachment of
troops at a certain fort in his rear. By some
means the enemy got behind him, attacked the
fort and drove its defenders from the outer to
the inner intrenchments.   The  commnanding
officer was about to run up the white flag, when
he saw on a distant hill the signal, "Hold the
fort: I am coming, Sherman." This incident
gave to Mr. Bliss the idea of his well known
hymn, " Hold the fort."
WHILE Mr. Moody was in Dublin, the Royal
Circus was much less attended than usual, and
47 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
so, a month or two afterward, the clowns made
a plan  to ridicule the evangelists.  At one of
their  entertainments, in the presence of a large
concourse, one clown said to the other, "I'm
rather Moody to-night; how do you feel?"
The other replied, " I feel rather Sankey-monius,
myself." The fun did not work, at least, not
as the clowns expected. The audience hissed
them out of the ring and struck up,           "Hold the fort, for I am coming,"
in which all the people joined, and thus ended
the effort to make sport of the evangelists.
"Ho! my comrades, see the signal
Waving in the sky!
Reinforcements now appearing,
Victory is nigh! "
Chorus.
"' Hold the fort, for I am coming,"
Jesus signals still,
Wave the answer back to Heaven,
'By thy grace we will."'
"BRIGHTLY BEAMS OUR FATHER'S M]ERCY."
ON a dark stormy night, when the waves
rolled like mountains, and not a star was to be
48 
TROPIHIES OF SONG.
seen, a boat, rocking and plunging, near the
Cleveland harbor.
"Are you sure this'is Cleveland?" asked the
Captain, seeing only one light from the lighthouse.
Quite sure, sir," replied the pilot.
"Where are the lower lights?"
"Gone out, sir."
"Can you make the harbor? "
We must, or perish, sir!"
And with a strong hand and a brave heart the
old pilot turned the wheel. But, alas, in the
darkness he missed the channel, and with a
crash upon the rocks the boat was shivered,
and many a life lost in a watery grave.  Brethren, the Master will take care of the great
light-house; let us keep the lower lights burning!
"Mr. Bliss, hearing  this story from  Mr.
Moody wrought out its moral in his well-known
song,- 
"Let the lower lights be burning!
Send a gleam across the wave!
Some poor fanting, struggling seaman,
You may rescue, you may save."
49 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS, SAILOR."
TIs song is founded on the following incident:
"We watched the wreck with great anxiety.
The life-boat had been out some hours, but could
not reach the vessel through the great breakers
that raged and foamed on the sand-bank.  The
boat appeared to be leaving the crew to perish.
But in a few minutes the captain and sixteen
sailors were taken off, and the vessel went
down.
"When the life-boat came to you, did you
expect it had brought some tools to repair your
old ship?' I said.
"' 1Oh, no; she was a total wreck.  Two of
her masts were gone, and if we had stayed
mending her only a few minutes, we must have
gone down, sir.'
"',When once off the old wreck and safe in
the life-boat what remained for you to do?'
"' Nothing, sir, but just to pull for the shore.'"
"Light in the darkness, sailor, day is at hand!
See o'er the foaming billows fair Haven's land,
Drear was the voyage, sailor, now almost o'er,
Safe within the life-boat, sailor, pull for the shore."
50 
TROPHIIES OF SONG.
"ONLY AN ARMOR-BEARER."
THIS sopg was suggested by the familiar incident of Jonathan and his armor-bearer:
"Now it came to pass upon a day, that Jonathan, the son of Saul, said unto the young man
that bare his armor, Come and let us go over to
the Philistines' garrison, that is on the other
side: it may be that the Lord will work for us:
for there is no restraint to the Lord to save by
many or by few. And his armor-bearer said unto
him, "Do all that is ini thine heart; turn thee:
behold I am with thee according to thy heart.
And Jonathan climbed up upon his hands and
upon his feet, and his armor-bearer after him:
and they fell before Jonathan; and his armorbearer slew after him.
"i So the Lord saved Israel that day: and the
battle passed over to Beth-aven."
"Only an armor-bearer, proudly I stand,
Waiting to follow at the King's command;
Marching if'onward' shall the order be,
Standing by my Captain, serving faithfully."
"I AM COMING- TO THE CROSS."
AT Glasgow, one evening  at eight o'clock,
there was a vast assembly, of men only, in the
51 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
City Ifall. They were packed into every corner; and outside were nearly as many in vain
seeking entrance.  It was a memorable  time.
Mr. Moody's subject was, "Whosoever," -  salvation absolutely free, all gift; nothing between
a sinner and eternal life but an unbroken will.
The mass of men listened with intense interest;
now and then you could see a tear, or the head
benet in deep emotion. When Mr. Sankey sang
the hy   mn, "I am Coming to the Cross," nothing
could   exceed the rapt, silent attention.  When
he came to the verse,
"In the promises I trust,
Now I feel the blood applied:
I am prostrate in the dust,
I with Christ am crucified,"
not a head in the vast multitude moved, every
face expressed deep feeling.  This verse was repeated amid still deeper silence and emotion. At
the close, when an invitation was given to those
who minded to remain for twenty minutes simply for prayer, above a thousand remained, and
thereafter a large number waited for conversation, although the hour was late.
52 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
" RING THE BELLS OF HEAVEN."
AN English writer gives a touching incident
connected with this hymn from the dying hours
of a Christian child of ten years.
She much delighted in Mr. Sankey's hymns.
"Oh, how I love those dear hymns!" - mentioning, "Safe in the arms of Jesus," and others.
"When I am gone, mother, will you ask the
girls of the school to sing that hymnl? -
"' Ring the bells of Heaven! there is joy to-day
For a soul returning from the wild!
See! the Father meets him out upon the way,
Welcoming his weary, wandering child!
Chorus.
"' Glory! glory! how the angels sing!
Glory! glory! how the loud harps ring!'
'Tis the ransomed army, like a mighty sea,
Pealing forth the anthem of the free.
"Ring the bells of heaven! spread the feast to-day,
Angels, swell the glad triumphant strain!
Tell the joyful tidings, bear it far away!
For a precious soul is born again."
The night before her death she said,  "Dear father and mother, I hope I shall meet
you in IHeavenl.  I am so happy, mother!  You
cannot think how light and happy I feel!"
53 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Again:  "Perhaps Jesus may send me to fetch
some of my brothers and sisters; I hope He will
send me to fetch you, mother."
Half an hour before her departure she exclaimed, " Oh, mother, hark at the bells of heaven!
they are ringing so beautifully!"
Then, closing her eyes awhile, presently she
cried again, "hearken to the harps! they are
most splendid!  Oh, I wish you could hear
them!
Then, shortly after, she spoke again:
"Oh, mother, I see the Lord Jesus, and the
angels!  Oh, if you could see them too!  He is
sending one to fetch me!"
She had been counting the hours and minutes
since she heard the mill-bell at 1.30 p.m., longing so earnestly to depart; yet expressed a hope
she might see her dear father (then absent at
work) before she went.
At last, just five minutes or so before her expiring breath, she said,  "Oh, mother, lift me up from the pillowhigh, high up I  Oh, I wish you could lift me
ritht up into heaven!"  Then, almost imnmediateJy after -as, doubtless, conscious that the
.54 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
parting moment was at hand,-  "Put me down
again   down, quick!"
And then, calmly, brightly, joyously gazing
upward, as at some vision of surprising beauty,
she peacefully, sweetly, triumphantly breathed
forth her precious spirit into the arms of the
ministering angel whom her Jesus had sent to
fetch her, and so was forever with the Lord she
loved.
"IN THE CHRISTIAN'S HOME IN GLORY."
IN one of Mr. Moody's meetings, inii England,
a speaker rose and said that he had been an actor
on the Englishl stage for some years and had
written plays.  He was one night entertaining a
London theatre audience, when suddenly a hymn
he had learned in childhood camne to his mind,
beginning,
"In the Christian's home in glory,
There remains a land of rest,"
which so unmanned him that he was compelled
to go to the manager and tell him that he could
not go on. He stifled conviction however, by
drinking heavily at the bar of the theatre.  The
I
55 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
religious impression then overcome he said had
been renewed by the words of Mr. Moody and
Mr. Sankey and he had now given himself to
Christ.
A CmIsTIAN boy of Rev. Dr. Talmage's Sunday-school, when about to die, said to his mother,
"Don't cry, but sing; sing,
'There is rest for the weary;'"
and when  they had sung a verse, he  put his
waste     d       hand over his heart, and said, just before
it ceased its beating,                "There is rest for me."
THE CHRISTIAN'S HOME.
In the Christian's home in glory
There remains a land of rest;
There my Saviour's gone before me,
To fulfil my soul's request.
Chorus.
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for you;
On the other side of Jordan,
In the sweet fields of Eden,
56 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Where the tree of life is blooming,
There is rest for you.
He is fitting up a mansion,
Which eternally shall stand;
For my stay shall not be transient
In that holy, happy land.
Sing, 0 sing, ye heirs of glory!
Shout your triumphs as you go;
Zion's gates will open for you,
You shall find an entrance through.
" LORD, I HEAR OF SHOWERS OF BLESSING."
THE singing leader in an inland Sunday-school
was           a   man of skeptical tendencies,- moral and
upright, though far from being a Christian.  One
Sunday this hymn was commenced as usual, but
when         the leader came to the passage,
"Pass me not, 0 tender Saviour,
Let me love and cling to Thee;
I am longing for Thy favor;
Whilst Thou' rt calling, oh, call me."
his voice quivered, his frame shook, and in
anguish he cried out, "Pray for me." It was
a scene of thrilling interest, and earnest prayers then went up from teachers and scholars
that  he who  had  so long  sung  the sweet
57
I 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
songs of Zion without feeling their power,
might now sing with the spirit and the understanding. He was happily converted, and
is now a faithful Christian.
" SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS.
-Fannie J. Crosby.
NOT long ago we visited from time to time,
till the end came, a bright young life that had
been laid hold of by our great British disease,
consumption. Insidious, but terribly sure, were
the advances made by this fell waster; and
the watching was all the more solemn because
the indications of spiritual life were but
faint and dubious. Not many weeks before the
close, a young lady, one of the recent converts,
found her way to this stricken one, and began
a series of visits which were most welcome. In
the visitor the dying young woman found
one younger than herself, who could sing
from experience, "Safe in the arms of Jesus;"
one to whose sweet voice she listened with
pleasure, so far as the disease permitted; one
whom she soon loved. It is not permitted us
58 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
to see into the hearts of others; but this seemed
evident in the case of the poor sufferer now
alluded to" that more than any other influence
brought to bear upon her, the hymns, words, and
visits of the young lady created a longing to
know Jesus as her own Saviour.
DURING the revival meetings in Edinburgh, a
young man, who was an avowed skeptic, came
into one of the meetings to scoff at all he might
hear. He said afterwards,  "I believed only in God and the devil;  the
latter I served well and sat laughing at the
Christians about me whom I thought nothing
better than fools."
At length that beautiful hymn,
"Safe in the arms of Jesus,"
was sung. A sudden thrill passed through his
whole frame and then, like a dart went to his
his very soul. His feelings were awful, but he
listened to the next verse and he felt, "There is
- Saviour.  Who is He?  Whlere is He?"  He
quickly realized the truth that Jesus was his Saviour and he threw himself into His arms, and
59 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
left'the place, saying in his new joy and zeal, "I
will now live and work for Jesus."
" TODAY  THE SAVIOUR CALLS."
ON the night when the great Chicago fire
broke out Mr. Moody spoke to an audience of
three thousand people, urging, as usual, immediate decision for Christ.
The song was then sung,             "To-day the Saviour calls:
Ye wand'rers come."
Ten persons stayed  to give themselves  to
Christ, in response to this hymn. At the close
of the enquiry meeting as they went out into the
street they say the whole sky lighten up with
the blaze of burning buildings.  Three, at least,
of those ten persons perished in thle fire. One
more refusal to accept Christ and it would have
been too late.
"iI GAVE MY LIFE FOR THEE.?
I
THE beautiful song of which this is the first
line, was suggested by the motto, "This I did
for thlee," which a Germian clergyman placed un
60 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
der a print of "Christ on the Cross," that hung
in his study.  It is said that Counlt Zinzendorf,
of precious memory, was first taught to love the
Saviour by reading this motto.
DURING a Western Sunday-school  Convention,     there arose a cry of dissatisfaction, "A
ring! "       "A ring!"  The strange and false charge
was made that the managers were conducting
the convention accordiing to some recent scheme.
Quite a discordant excitement ensued, during
which a distinguished singer who was present,
was called on to sing. He sang,
"All this I did for thee,
My precious blood I shed
That thou might'st ransomed be,
And rescued from the dead;
All this I did for theeWhat hast thou done for me?'"
Through the song Christ seemed to whisper
to the discordant convention, "Peace, be still,'
and when the song had ceased, a calm, ClIristlike spirit had filled the convention and continued with it to the end.
61 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL."
C- harles WFesley.
ABOUT the time that Isaac Watts was writing his earliest hymns at Southampton, in
Southern England, two brothers were born in
the little town of Epworth, who were destined
to be better known over the world than any
other two men whom Britain produced in
that half century. While their godly mother
(Susannah) was dying, she said to her weeping household, "My children, as soon as my
spirit is released, sing a song of praise to God."
Among the group who joined in this song of
triumph with faltering voices, were John, the
founder of Methodism, and Charles, its sweet
singer. John was system; Charles was song.
John was the Bezaleel who laid the foundations, and hewed out the pillars of the new
tabernacle; but Charles was the Asaph who
filled it with melody.
Methodism was builded rapidly; but the walls
never would have gone up so fast had they
not been built to music. Charles Wesley was
62 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
a born poet. Like Toplady, he was all nerve
and fire aad enthusiasm. God gave him a
musical ear, intense emotions, ardent affections, and a glowing piety that never grew
cold. He ate, drank, slept and dreamed nothing but hymns!
He must have been the ready writer of at
least four thousand hymns.   One day, while
on his itineracy, his pony stumbled, and threw
him off. The only record he makes of the
accident in his diary is this: "My companions thought I had broken my neck; but my
leg only was bruised, my hand sprained, and
my head stunned, which'spoiled my making
hymns until-next day!"  Truly a man must
have been possessed with a master passion,
who could have written a sentence like that.
Wesley found his inspirations "on every
hedge."
He threw off hymns as Spurgeon throws off
sermons. For example, when he was preaching to a crowd of rude stonecutters and quarrymen at Portland, he turned his appeal into
metre, and improvised a hymn, in which occur
the vigorous lines:
623 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"Come, 0 thou all-victorious Lord,
Thy power to us make known;
Strike with the hammer of thy word,
And break these hearts of Stone."
Stabding once on the dizzy promontory of
Land's End, and looking down into the boiling
waves on each side of the cliff, he brokenout into
these solemn and thrillinig words: -
Lo! on a narrow rock of land,
'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand,
Yet how insensible."
For every scene and circumstance of life, for
prayer-meetings,  for  watch  nights, for love
feasts, and for dying( hours and funerals, he had
a holy impassioned lay.  But, like Watts, Cowper and  Toplady, lie had  his master-piece.
The Lord of glory bestowed on Charles Wesley
the high honor of composiing the finest hearthymn in the English tongue.  If the greatest
hymn of the cross is " RPock of Ages," and the
greatest hlymn of providence is Cowper's "God
moves in a mysterious way," and the grandest
battle-lihymn is Martiu Luthler's " God is our
refuge," then it may be said, also, that the queen
of all the lays of holy love is that immortal
song: -
64 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"Jesus, lover of my sold!
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high  "
Whatever may be said of Wesley's doctrine
of perfect holiness, there is not much doubt
that he attained "unto perfection" when he
wrote this hymn. It is happily married, also,
to two exquisite tunes, "Refuge and Martyn,"
both of which are worthy of the alliance.
The first of these tunes is a gem. The one
central, all pervading idea of this matchless
hymn is the soul's yearning for its Saviour.
The figures of speech vary, but not the
thought.  In one line we see a storm-tossed
voyager crying out for shelter, until the
tempest is over. In another line we see a
timid, tearful child, nestling in its mother's
arms, with the words faltering on its tongue,
"Let me to Thy bosom fly!
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee! "
Two lines of the hymn have been breathed
fervently and often out of bleeding hearts.
When we were once in the valley of the deathshade, with one beautiful child in its new-made
65
I 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
grave, and the other threatened with fatal
disease, there was no prayer which we uttered
oftener than this,
I Leave, ah! leave me not alone;
Still support and comfort me."
We do not doubt that tens of thousands of other
bereaved and wounded hearts have cried this
piercing cry, out of the depths,
"Still support and comfort me."
The  whole  hymn  is at  once  a- confession
and a prayer. It is a prayer in metre. And no
man  is prepared to sing these words aright
unless his soul is filled with deepest and most
earnest longing after the Lord Jesus. What an
awful blasphemy it is for unsanctified singers in
a choir to perform this holy prayer merely as a
feat of musical skill.
What college boy would dare to commit to
memory the Lord's prayer, and speak it as a
mere piece of declamation on the stage? Yet
we do not see any difference between
declaiming a prayer, and the heartless mockery
of performing, for musical effect, such words,
"Hide me, 0 my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past! "
9
66 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Or that self-surrender for the dying hour,
" Oh, receive my soul at last!"
Words like these are too infinitely solemn for
frivolous lips in the concert-room or the organloft.    When  a  congregation  sings  such  a
hymn as "Jesus, lover of my soul," each person
should feel as if he were uttering a fervent personal prayer to the Son of God.
The history of Charles Wesley's incomparable hymn would fill a volume. Millions have
sung it, and will be singing it when the millennial morn breaks.
A coasting vessel once went on the rocks in a
gale, in the  British Channel.  The  captain
and crew took to the boats and were lost.
They might have been saved had they remained
on board; for a huge wave carried the vessel up
among the rocks, where the ebbing tide left her
high and dry. In the captain's cabin a hymnbook was found lying on his table.   It was
opened to a particular page, and the pencil
still lay in it which had marked the favorite
lines of the stout sailor, who was just about
going into the jaws of death. While the hurri
67
I 
TROPHIES OF SONG,
cane was howling outside, the captain had
drawn his pencil beside these glorious words
of cheer,
"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high!
Hide me, 0 my Saviour hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
Oh, receive my soul at last!"
Blessed death song!  Thousands of  God's
redeemed ones have shouted it forth as the
"haven"  of rest opened its celestial glories
to their view. If we could choose the manner of our departure, we would wish to die
singing,
' Other refuge have I none;
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee!
Leave, ah, leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me;
All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head,
With the shadow of Thy wing."
-Rev. T. L. Cuyler, D. I)., in " Heart Life."
68 
TROPEIES OF SONG.
MR. LONG of Philadelphia in his work on
hymnology gives the following incident as the
occasion of the hymn:
The brothers John and Charles Wesley, wvithl
Richard Pilmore, were one evening holding a
twilight meeting on the common, when  they
were attacked by a mob and fled from its fary
for their lives.  The first place of refuge that
they found, after having been for some time
separated, was a hedge-row near at hand, behind
which they hid a few minutes, protecting themselves firom serious injury by the missiles that
fell like hlail about them, by clasping their hands
above their heads as they lay with their faces in
the dust.  As nlighlt drew on, the darkness enabled them to leave their temporary retreat for
a safer one at some distance.  They found their
way at last to a spring-hlouse, where, in comparative security, they waited for their pursuers to
weary of seeking them.  "Here they struck a
light with a flint-stone," dusted their s6iledcl and
tattered garments, and, after quenching' their
thllirst, batlIed their hands and faces in the water
that bubbled from the spring and flowed away
in a spknlgling streamlet.  Then it was  that
69 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Charles Wesley was inspired to white, "Jesus,
lover of my  soul," with a bit of lead he hadl
-hammered into a pencil.
These circumstances beautifully illustrate the
hymn, giving to almost every line a reality that 
makes it peculiarly significant to every loving
Christian heart.  They had fled before their enemies, and found shelter from danger: he sang:
"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosomfly."
No figure is so commonly used with reference
to the assaults of the wicked as that of the line:
" While the nearer waters roll,"
which is a favorite with the psalmist. The next
line
" While the tempest still is high;"
also reminds one of the sweet songs of Israel,
but seems above the former appropriate, recalling, as it does, the storm of missiles that broke
upon the hedge wheiu they were concealed behind it.  The same figure, carried still further
4finds expression in the rest of the first stanza:
finds expression in the rest of the first stan~za:
"Hide me, 0 my Saviour hide,
Till the storm of life is past!
70 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Safe into the haven guide,
0 receive my soul at last!"
There can be no doubt but that the little
spring-house suggested "the haven of eternal
rest" for which the soul of the persecuted evangelist longed with unutterable desire. They
had barely escaped death by flying to the only
plac e         of safety within their reach; what wonder   then that the poet should exclaim,
"Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on thee:"
as he thought, with a shudder, of the loneliness
of the first of their flight, which is touchingly
indicated in the lines,
" Leave, oh, leave me not alon?e,
Still support and comfort me!"
The thought of the first two lines of this
second stanza is repeated in the fifth and sixth,
and followed by yet another reference to the
period  of their greatest peril.  Christ, the only
hope       of a    sinner, is addressed in the words,
"All my trust in thee is stayed,
All my help from thee I bring! "
and entreated to save his soul when imperilled,
as their bodies had been. He prays,
71 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
" Cover my defenceless head,
With the shadow of thy wing! "
The third verse which is usually omitted, is a
passionate appeal for aid ill weakness and exhaustion:
"Wilt thou not regard my call?
Wilt thou not accept my prayer?
Lo! I sink, Ifaint, I fall!
Lo! on thee I cast my care! "
together, perhaps, with a reminiscence of the aid
which they were doubtless able to render one
another:
" Reach me out thy gracious hand!
While I of thy strength receive,
Hoping against hope I stand.
Dying, and behold I live?"
The sufficiellncvy of the Saviour in implied cornparison with any human helper, is finely brought
out by the poet who, like Paul, evidently glories in his own wealkniess:
"Thou, 0 Christ, art all I want;
More than all in thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick and lead the blind;
Just and holy is thy name;
I am all unrighteousness;
72 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
False and full of sin I am,
Thou art full of truth and grace!"
The weakness of their condition recalls its
cause, the "wounds and bruises " that have ever
been     symbolical of sin.  These had been laved
in the limpid water flowing at their feet, hence
the strains,
"Plenteous grace in thee is found,
Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing stream abound,
Make and keep me pure within! "
They had drank, too, of the water, and as it
had refreshed their fainting bodies, would the
Christian take refreshment from the water of
life.  This thought furnished the climax of the
hymn, than vlwhichl a more inspiring could hardly
be fi'amed in words. It is the language of perfect confidence in.the Redeelmer as the source of
eternal life. He sings, 0 how sublimely!
"Thou of life the fountain art;
Freely let me take of thee;
Spring thou up within my heart,
Rise to all eternity!"
A VERY touching incident ill the last days of
73 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
the life of the late President Finney has just appeared. It was the Sabbath. After tea, accord
ing to his custom, he was walking about his
grounds with his wife enjoyiing a glowing sky
and a cool refreshing breeze.  Evening worship
in the church near at hand, which he himself
had planned and in which  he had preached
nearly forty years, had just begun. Presently
there came floating out of the old sanctuary the
familiar strains of the dear old hymn,
"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,
Where the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high:
Hide me, 0 my Saviour hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
0 receive my soul at last.
"Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on thee:
Leave, oh, leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me.
All my trust on thee is stayed
All my help from thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless head
With the shadow of thy wing."
74 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
He quickly caught it, devoutly joined the invisible congregation and kept them  company
to the end. Before the morning dawned the
prayer then breathed was answered, and he who
had so long trusted in Christ was " at last." received into the bosom of his Saviour.
A  FINE, intelligent Virginian young  man,
while residing ill the West, became an infidel
and  a    blasphemer of the name of God.  From
this state he was delivered by reading the work
o f Soame Jenyns; but, while he acquiesced in
the truth of revelation, he yet did not feel its
power. He was attacked by a lingering and
fatal disease, which led him to reflection and
prayer, but often made it difficult for him to converse. -Three Christian friends sometimes visited hinm, to beguile the tedious hours by singing.   They one day entered  his room, and,
almost without any previous remarks, began the
hymn,
"There is a fountain filled with blood,"
and then,
"The voice of free grace cries, Escape to the mountain."
75 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
He then said to them, "There is nothing I
so much delight to hear as the first hymn you
ever      sung to me,
'Jesus, lover of my sourLl."
We  began to sing it' to the tune of 2[artyn,
and found the solemnity which had reigned
in the little circle while singing the two
former hymns began to be changed to weeping.  We  struck the touching strains of the
second stanza, and the weeping became loud;
the heart of him who had reviled Christ
broke; and we feared that to sing the remaining stanza would be more than he could
bear. When singing in his room a few days
after this, he said, "I don't think I shall ever
hear'Jesus, lover of my  soul' sung again:
it so excites me  that my  poor body cannot
bear it."
SEVERAL years ago, a ship was burned near
the English Channel. Among the passengers
were a father, mother, and their little child,
a daughter not many months old. When the
discovery Yvas made that the ship was on fire,
76 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
and the alarm was given, there was great
confusion, and this family became separated.
The father was rescued, and taken to Liverpool; but the mother and infant were carried
overboard by the crowd, and, unnoticed by
those who were doing all in their power to
save the sufferers still on the ship, they
drifted out of the channel with the tide, the
mother clinging to a fragment of the wreck,
with her little one clasped to her breast.
Late in the afternoon of that day, a vessel
bound from Newport, Wales, to America, was
moving  slowly along in her course.   There
was only a slight breeze, and the captain was
impatiently walking the deck, when his attention was called to an object some distance
off, which looked like a person in the water.
The officers and crew watched it for a time,
and as no vessel was near from which any one
could have fallen overboard, they thought it
impossible that this could be a human being.
But, as their vessel was scarcely moving, it
was thought best to get out a boat and row
ljo the object. The boat was accordingly lowered and manned. It was watched with con
77 
TROPIIIES OF SONG.
siderable interest by those who remained on
board, and they noticed that, as it drew near
to the drifting speck, the rowers rested on
their oars two or three minutes, then moved
forward, took in the object or thing, they
knew not which, and returned to the ship.
When the boat's crew came on board, they
brought with them this mother and her child,
alive and well; and the sailors said that,
as           they drew near, they heard a female voice
sweetly singing. As with a common impulse,
the      men ceased rowing and listened, and then
the words of the beautiful hymn, sung by this
trusting Christian, all unconscious that deliverance   was so near, came  over  the waves  to
their  ears
"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the waters near me roll,
While the tempest still is high!
Ride me, 0 my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
Oh, receive my soul at lasts
Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on thee!
Leave, ah, leave me not alone,
78 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Still support and comfort me;
All my trust on Thee is stayed,
A1 my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head,
With the shadow of Thy wing."
In due time the vessel arrived in America.
The mother wrote to her friends in England,
and thus the father learned of the safety of
his wife and child, and in about four months
from the time of their separation they were
happily reunited.
A POOR woman, wl  had no hope in Christ,
was dying in the attic of one of the New
York tenement houses.  A  minister was sent
for, but his words and prayers failed to give
her hope. She said again and again, as he
talked to her, "It's no use; I'm too wicked,
and it's too late."   At length he began  to
sing,  "Jesus, lover of my  soul,"  and sang
two  verses.  Noticing  her deep  interest, he
turned to her and said, "Can't you trust him
now? "   With  a smile  of  joy  she replied,
' Other refuye have I none."  IHer happy face
showed her acceptance of Jesus.
79 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
WE were a happy company of Sunday-school
scholars and friends on Laklie Winnipeseogee.
The day had been spent most pleasantly. The
"Lady of the Lake " had come alongside the
wharf and with a clear, sharp note from her clarion bell had invited us again on board.  Friends
from shore and on the water waved their friendly
"good-by."  Seated upon the upper deck, anticipating a most charming ride upon the lake, the
fastenings were unloosed and we shot out upon
the clear ample waters, and were fairly on our
course, anticipating an hour's enjoyment only
afforded by such a company and such an occasion. All at once we were confronted by one of
the most terrific storms of wind, rain, lightning
and thunder ever known by the captain of the
boat in an experience of twenty-five years.
Terror now took possession of nearly all, as
well it might.  In a confusion amounting almost
to a panic, all rushed for the cabin's hold. Happening to be among the last to leave the deck,
and standing about midway on the stairs, we
witnessed a scene  such as we  had never beheld before, and never wish to re-experience.
Women were crying and fainting, children were
80 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
frantic with fright, and strong, full-grown men
stood pale and trembling. We tried to inspire
calmness and composure, but to very little purpose. We remembered being in the coliseum at
Boston on the 4th of July of last year, when a
terrible hurricane and storm burst upon us.
What seemed an inevitable and fearful panic,
was turned into huzzas when the English band
changed from a classic selection to our own patrioti c       "Yankee Doodle."  We  did not strike
up        a    ny of the national airs, but just what was
in our heart at the time,
"I am trusting, Lord, in thee,
Dear Lamb of Calvary."
The sentiment found a response in other
hearts; we did -not sing alone. Others joined,
and our voices were above the tumult within
and the roar of the hurricane without, and there
was         a  calm. But without, the storm raged with
increased fury, and its roar was fearful. Then
we sang,
"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to try bosom fly."
The lighl-ning's flash seemed almost to envelope
81 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
us in a sheet of flame, and the thunders seemed
tos shake  the earth and sea.   And then we
sang,
"Other refuge have I none;
Hangs my helpless soul on thee."
The gallant boat, in whose palpitating bosom
we h    ad taken refuge, met the storm bravely, butt
the    gale was too mighty; she was beaten back
by the buffeting winds and waves, and imperilled
by             hidden rocks; and then we sang,
"Thou, O Christ, art all I want,
More than all in Thee I find."
But the heart of the hurricane began to be
touched and the winds to relent;  the lightning
had a softer glare, and the thunder fell more
tenderly in our ears; so we sang,
" Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down,
Grace our spirits shall deliver,
And provide a robe and crown."
Now there is a calm. The hurricane has sped
on with its accompaniment of flood( and terror,
82 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
and has left us out in the full clear sunshine.
The shore and destination is ill view towards
sunset; and now we will sing,
"Land ahead, its fruits are waving,"
and we ring out the chorus,
"Rocks and storms I'll fear no more,
When on that eternal shore."
And  now the "Lady of the Lake," in her
grandest majesty, sweeps in graceful curve
to           make her landing,,  when  again  we  all
saDllg,
"Now we're safe from all temptation,
All the storms of life are past,"
and the
"Rocks and storms we'll fear no more;
When on that eternal shore,
Drop the anchor, furl the sail;
I am safe within the veil."
The singing saved us from a panic; and, saved
from that, we were saved from consequences we
dared not contemplate. The twilight found us
all safe at our homes.
83 
TROPIE'S OF SONG.
Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah, leave me not alone,
Sfill support and comfort me;
All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head,
With the shadow of Thy wing.
A CHAPLAIN in our army one morning found
Tom, the drummer-boy, a great favorite with
all the men, and whom, because of his sobriety
and religious example, they called "the young
deacon," sitting alone under a tree. At first he
thought him asleep, but, as he drew near, the
boy lifted up his head, and he saw tears
in his eyes.
"Well, Tom,  my  boy, what is it; for  I
see your thoughts are sad? What is it??"
"Why, sir, I had a dream last night, which
I can't get out of my mind."
"What  was it?"
"You  know  that my  little sister Mary is
dead-died when ten years old. My mother
was  a widow,  poor,  but good.   She never
seemed like herself afterwards. In a year or
so, she died, too; and then I, having no home,
84 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
and no mother, came to the war. But last
night I dreamed the war was over, and I
went back to my home, and just before I got to
the house, my mother and little sister came out
to meet me. I didn't seem to remember they
were dead!  How  glad they  were!  And
how my mother, in her smiles, pressed me to her
heart! Oh, sir, it was just as real as you
are real now!"
"Thank God, Tom,  that you have such a
mother, not really dead, but in heaven, and that
you are hoping, through Christ, to meet her
again.    The boy wiped his eyes and was
comforted.
The next day there was terrible fighting.
Tom's drum was heard all day long, here and
there.   Four times the ground was  swept
and occupied by the two contending armies.
But as the night came on, both paused, and
neither dared to go on the field, lest the foe
be there. Tom, "the young deacon," it was
known, was wounded and left on the battlefield.   His  company  encamped  near  the
battle-field. In the evening, when the noise of
battle was over, and all was still, they heard
L'i
85 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
a voice singing, away off on the field. They
felt sure it was Tom's voice. Softly and
beautifully the words floated on the wings of
night,
"Jesus! lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past!
Safe into the haven guide,
Oh, receive my soul at last.
Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee!
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me! "
The voice stopped here, and there was silence.
in the morning the soldiers went out and found
Tom sitting on the ground, and leaning against
a stump -dead! His soul went up in the
song. Did his mother and Mary meet him?
Who can say? But poor Tom was not created
for this world, was he? -
"ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME."
- Augustus Toplady.
BELCIER writes: -" The death of the author
86 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
of this favorite hymn was indeed that of the
Christian.  A  short time before his decease, at
his own request, his physician felt his pulse,
and was asked what he thought of it.  His
reply was that "the heart and arteries beat
weaker and weaker;" the reply of the dying
gaint, as the sweetest of smiles sat on his
countenance, was, "Why, that is a good sign
my death is fast approaching; and, blessed be
God, I can add that my heart beats every
day stronger and stronger for glory." Still
nearer to his end he said, "Oh, my dear sir,
it is impossible to describe how good God
is to me!   Since I have been  sitting in this
chair this afternoon, glory be to His name, I
have enjoyed such a season, such sweet communion with God, and such delightful manifestations of his presence and love to my soul,
that it is impossible for any language to express them. I have had peace and joy unutterable; and I fear not that God's consolations
and support will continue." But immediately
recollecting himself, he continued, " What
have I said? God may, to be sure, as a Sovereign, hide his face and his smiles from me.
87 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Ho-ever, I  believe he  will not; and  if he
should, yet will I trust in him. I know I am
safe;;for his love and his covenant are everlasting."    Within an hour of his death,  he
said, "It will not be long before God takes
me; for no mortal man can live"- bursting,
while he said it, into tears of joy, "after the
glories which God has manifested to my soul."
DR. POMEROY, in speaking of a visit he made
a few years ago  to an Armenian Church in
Constantinople, says that he was greatly pleased
with their singing, though he could not understand the words. They all sung the same
part, and while singing the hymns their eyes
were closed, and as they sung the tears trickled
down over many cheeks.
On inquiry what the hymn was, one of the
missionaries told him it was,            Rock of Ages, cleft for me!"
O that the singing of these precious words
would have like effect on the members of
our American churches!
Dr. T. L. Cuyler says of this hymn: -— " Of
all its lines the two finest are those which
88 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
are carved on a monument in Greenwood,
beneath the figure of Faith kneeling at a cross:
"Nothing in my hands I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling."
A LITTLE girl of my acquaintance was once
looking at a picture, which represents a rock in
the midst of a stormy sea, bearing upon its summit a cross to which a female figure just recovered from the angry waves clings, faint and exhausted, while at her feet a hand, grasping a
part of the wreck, is just disappearing in the
black water.
"What does that mean," asked the child.
"It is called' The Rock of Ages,"' was
the answer.
"That means Jesus, to whom we cling for
salvation."
"You know the hymn says,'Other refuge
have I none."'
"Oh! yes," said the child, after a moment's
hesitation, "but that rock isn't my Jesus; when
I cling to him he reaches down and clings too."
The following beautiful poem is in itself a
commentary on this popular hymn:
89
0 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"ROCK OF AGES."
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,"
Thoughtlessly the maiden sung,
Fell the words unconsciously
From her girlish, gleeful tongue;
Sang as little children sing;
Sang as sing the birds in June;
Fell the words like light leaves don
On the current of the tune  Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."
"Let me hide myself in Thee,"
Felt her soul no need to hide;
Sweet the song as song could be   And she had no thought beside;
All these words unheedingly
Fell from lips untouched by care,
Dreaming not that each might be
On some other lips a prayer "Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me"'Twas a woman sung them now,
Pleadingly and prayerfully;
Every word her heart did knowv,
Rose the song as storm-tossed bird
Beats with weary wing the air,
Every note with sorrow stirred   Every syllable a prayer "Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."
90 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,"
Lips grown aged sung the hymn
Trustingly and tenderly   Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim,
"Let me hide myself in Thee,"
Trembling though the voice, and low,
Ran the sweet strain peacefully,
Like a river in its flow.
Sung as only they can sing
Who life's thorny paths have pressed;
Sung as only they can sing
Who behold the promised rest  "Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,"
Sung above a coffin-lid;
Underneath, all restfully,
AllU life's joys and sorrows hid.
Nevermore, O storm-tossed soul!
Nevermore from wind or tide,
Nevermore from billow's roll,
Nilt thou need thyself to hide.
Could the sightless, sunken eyes,
Closed beneath the soft gray hair,
Could the mute and stiffened lips
Move again in pleading prayer,
Still, aye, still, the words would be,
" Let me hide myself in Thee."
"ALL HAIL THE POWER OF JESUS' NAME!"
- Rev. Edward Perronet.
ABOUT the year 1808, this grand old hymn
91 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
was printed at Canterbury on a card, for the
Sunday School, to which is appended the following notice of the author:-" The Rev. Edward
Perronet died at Canterbury, January 2d, 1792.
His dying words were,'Glory to God in the
height of his divinity!   Glory to God in the
depth of his humanity! Glory to God in his
all-sufficiency! and into his hands I commend
my spirit.' -Belcher.
THE late William Dawson, a very plain man,
but a highly popular local -preacher among
the Wesleyan Methodists of England, was, some
years since, preaching in London on the offices
of Christ.  After presenting him as the great
teacher and Priest, who made himself an offering for sin, the preacher introduced him  as
the King of saints.  Having shown that he was
king in his own right, he proceeded to the coronation. Borrowing his ideas from scenes familiar to his audience, he marshalled the immense procession moving toward the grand
temple to place the insignia of royalty upon
the King of the Universe. So vividly did
the preacher present the scene, that his hearers
92 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
almost thought they were gazing upon that long
line of patriarchs and kings, prophets and
apostles, martyrs and confessors of every age
and clime, until at length the great temple was
filled, and  the solemn and imposing ceremony
of coronation was about to take place. The
audience by this time were wrought up to the
highest pitch of excitement; and,- while momentarily expecting to hear the anthem peal out
from the vast assemblage, the preacher commenced singing,          All hail the power of Jesus' name!"
The effect was electrical. The audience started
to their feet and sang the hymn with such spirit
and feeling as perhaps it was never sang before
or since.- Belcher.
Cc THERE IS A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD."
- Witlliam Cowper.
A NOTORIOUS robber of New York grew
weary of his sinful life, and wanted to become
a Christian, but almost despaired of being saved.
A. Christian man talked and prayed with him,
but could not give him any encouragement.
He then sang the first verse of
93 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"There is a fountain filled with blood,"
but the poor man said, "there is nothing in that
for me." He then sang the second verse,
"The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away."
"That means mne," said the penitent robber.
Hope sprung up in his heart, and he was
soon after happily converted.
A POOR Sabbath scholar has fallen down a
hatchway and broken his hip. The doctor
says he is internally injured, and that he
cannot help him. The boy's teacher is sent
for, and is surprised at the greeting he received.   "Teacher, you are just in time to
hear my great joy; I am going home to
Jesus." "I did not know you ever thought
about such things, John; how long have you
felt so?" "Dear teacher, you never asked
me; I have been longing to have you for six
months. Now sing my favorite hymn with
me, dear teacher." And while they sang the
sweet words,
94 * 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"And sinners plunged beneath THAT flood,
Lose all their guilty stains,"
tile messenger came to call the lad Home.
SHORTLY after the visit of Mr. Moody and
Mr. Sankey to Scotland, a little boy passed
along the streets of Glasgow in the evening singing,
"There is a fountain filled with blood."
A Christian policeman joined in the song.  At
tlhe end of the policemhanl's beat hle asked the boy
if he understood what he was singing.
" Oh yes, said the little fellow, "I know it in
my heart and it is very precious."
A fewv evenings afterward some olle, in conversation with the policem.an, said:
"Do you know that a womanstanding where
we ale was awakened and saved by hearing the
other night a hymn sung by a policeman and a
boy?"
"E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme
And shall be till I die.
95 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing thy power to save,
When this poor, lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave."
IN a religious awakening a pastor invited a
meeting of the young people of his congregation
il the parsonage.  The room was thronged wvith
anxious inquirers.  Durinlg the opening  exercises lhe observed a young lady deeply affected.
She was one or the most estimable young ladies
of his colgregation, one whose amenity of manuer and purity of life might have been copied to
advantage by many of the members of his
church.   Calling her by name, hle inquired,
"What has brought you here?"
"My sins, sir," was her deep and earnest response.
But," said he, wishing totest the soundness
of her convictions, "what have you done that
you should feel so deeply?"
"O0, sir," said she, " I hate God, and I knlow
it."
Perhaps never before that hour had she com
96 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
prehended how deep and fearful is the enmity
of the carnal mind to God.
"I hate God, and I know it; I have a heart
opposed to all good; I hate my ownl life, and
now  see how  emipty and worthless -nay, how
insulting to God —have been all my-good deeds,
with which I thought to merit his favor!  O
how utterly wretched and lost is my soul!"
She rose and went into ani adjoining room.
There she paced the floor to and fro, in an agony
of soul bordering upon despair.
What miockery!" she exclaimed.  "How
have I deceived and ruined my soul!  My condemnation is just! But 0, my God, where shall
deliverance be found?
Just then she took a hlymn-book, and her eye
lit upon this stanza:
"There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains."
In one moment she was enabled, by faith,
to plunge belneath that flood. Quicker than
thought light broke in upon her soul; the Di
97 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
vine Spirit filled her with his presence, and she
burst forth into an exultant song,
My God is reconciled;
His pard'ning voice I hear:
He owns me for his child
I can no longer fear."
AT Hamilton Camp-meeting a man, whose
vices had made him nliserable, stopped at one of
the tents where he heard them singing,         "There is a fountain filled with blood."
He heard the first verse:
"That's not for me."
The second began,
"The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day-"
"That's for me! That's for rme! and a few
minutes later he was kneeling in the tent praying for mercy, which he soon found.
" OH, FOR A THOUSAND TONGUES TO SING.' 
- Charles Wesley.
CHARLES WESLEY, when speaking to Peter
Bohler of the sense of pardon sealed on his conscience, said: "I suppose I had better keep
98 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
silent about it."  The good M1oravian shook him
by thle hand and replied, " Oh! no, mny brother;
if you had a thousand tongues, go and use them
all for Jesus; " and he went home and wrote:
"Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer's praise;
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of his grace.
"My gracious Master, and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,To spread through all the earth abroad,
The honors of thy name.
"Jesus, the name that charms my fears
That bids our sorrows cease;
'Tis music in the sinner's ears,
'Tis life, and health, and peace.
He breaks the power of cancell'd sin,
He sets the pris'ner free;
His blood can make the foulest clean;
His blood avail'd for me."
THIS lhymn is also said to have been written
by the author on the first anniversary of the
conversion  of himself and  his brother John.
It originally  contained  eighteen  verses,  and
was entitled "_'or  the Anniversary  of One's.
*'"'i* 
~.
99 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Conversion."   It was  first published in the
year 1739.
DURING the great conflagration in Chicago,
the Grace Methodist Episcopal Church, with
many  others, was burned.   The pastor, ReV.
Mr. Parkhurst, after toiling all night with
and among the sufferers, pointing them to the
many mansions on high, and the temple not
made with hands, where no fire shall consume, met'three hundred of his homeless people on the ruins of their late beautiful house
of worship, and sang:
"Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer's praise."
" NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE."
-Sarah Flower Adams.
DR. CUYLER says of Sarah Flower, the writer of  this soul-stirring  hymn:  "She  was
worthy of her name. For' Sarah' signifies
a princess, and a sweeter fragrance has rarely
exhaled from any flower in the garden of the
Lord.  This gifted girl married  Mr,  William
100
0 
TiOPHIES OF SONG.
B. Adams, an English civil engineer of superior abilities.  She was of frail constitution,
and amid many bodily sufferings she kept her
pen at work upon various poetical productions.
At what time she caught the inspiration to
compose that one immortal hymn, which is
now sung around the globe, we have never
learned. Probably it was some season of peculiar trial, when the bruised spirit emitted
the odors of a child-like submission to a
chastening Father. It must have oozed from
a bleeding heart.   Her hymn  first appeared
in a volume of sacred lyrics, published by a
Mr. Fox, in England, about the year 1841.
The authoress did not live to catch the echoes
of the fame it was to bring, for she died in
1849, at the age of 44. She was buried in
HIarlow, in Essex, and for several years her
name was known to but few beyond the circle of loving friends who read it on her monument. Presently the hymn began to work
its way into various collections of songs for
worship.   It crossed  to  America.   It was
heard with delight in our prayer meetings.
It was married to the noble tune of "Beth
101 
, TROPHIES OF SONG.
any," and everybody caught the glorious
strain. In noonday gatherings for prayer, it
soon became so familiar that if any one "struck
up" the hymn the whole audience joined in.
"MY FAITH LOOKS  UP TO THEE."
-Ray Palmer, -D. D.
IT is, by far, the most precious contribution
which American genius has yet made to the
hymnology  of  the  Christian  church.   The
author of it was a native of "Little Compton," in Rhode Island, and was graduated
from old Yale in 1830. Immediately after
leaving college he came to New York, and
spent a few hours each day in teaching young
ladies in a school which stood in the then
fashionable quarter of Fulton Street, behind
St. Paul's church. In December of that year
(1830), just forty years ago, he sat down one
day in his room, and wrote in his pocket
memorandum book four simple verses, which
he says "were born of my own soul," and
were not written to be seen by another eye.
He wrote them rapidly, and with his eyes
102 
TROPHIES OF SONG. -
in  tears.    The   first  verse  reads
swimming
thus:
"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!"
He put the memorandum book into his pocket,
and carried it there for two whole years, little
dreaming that he was carrying about with him
his own passport to immortality. One day Dr.
Lowell Mason met him in the streets of Boston, and asked him to furnish some hymns
for the volume of "Spiritual Songs," which
he (Dr. Mason) and Dr. Thomas Hastings
were about to publish. The young college
graduate drew from his pocket the lines,
"My faith looks up to Thee."
Dr. Mason went home, and catching a similar
inspiration to that of the author of the lines,
composed  for them  that beautiful  tune  of
" Olivet," to which the hymn is wedded unto
this day. Dr. Mason met the author a few days
I
103 
TmROPHIE-S OF SONG.
afterwards and said to him prophetically, "Mr.
Palmer, you may live many years and do many
good things, but I think that you will be best
known to posterity as the author of this
hymn." The prediction is fulfilled. The man
who sang this sweet song of Calvary is still
living, and has composed many tender and
beautiful poems and discourses; but his devout mind flowered out in one matchless lily
whose rich odors have filled the Courts of our
God with fragrance.
How many a penitent, while reading or
singing that hymn, has looked up to Calvary's
Cross and found peace in believing! In how
many a prayer-meeting has it been sung
through tears of holy gratitude! To how
many a sick chamber and dying bed has it
come like a strain from that heavenly land
which was already in full view!
The poetry of the hymn is as perfect as its
theology. In its structure it closely resembles
the "Rock of Ages."  It begins in penitence;
it ends in praise.  It begins in heart-broken
sorrow, and concludes with the most glorious
assurance of hope. In the first verse the sup
104 
TROPHIETFS OF SONG.
pliant is represented as bowing before the crucified Saviour, and looking up to him, and to
him only. He sees none but Jesus. His cry
is,
"Take all my guilt away."
His aspiration is,
"Oh, let me from this day
Be wholly thine."
Before that cross the praying soul obtains
strength, and a pure, warm, and changeless love
for his Redeemer. He is filled with a "living
fire." He is the new man in Christ Jesus.
But as he looks forward, he foresees a "dark
maze" of trial before him, overhung with clouds
of grief that lower black and terrible, and
sometimes weep great showers of tears.  Surrounded  with these discouraging clouds of confusio n          and temptation he shouts out like one
lost in the dark,
"Be thou my guide,
Bid darkness turn to day,
Wipe sorrow's tear away,
Nor let me ever stray
From Thee aside."
Before  him  lies  still  one  more  valley  darker
105 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
than any passed before.  It is that vale in which
end's  "life's transient dream."  Through it rolls
death's cold and sullen stream. Ile already imagilies  himself in the swelling of Jordan.  And
as the floods go over him, he lifts his last victoriiou s v oice of sublime trust,
"Blest Saviour! then in love
Fear and distrust remove;
Oh, bear me safe above,
A ransomed soul."
Such is the grandeur of American hymns.  Is
it not the grandeur of this century? And if
our readers wish to know, and to thank its
modern author, they have but to go into "the
Bible House" ill New York, and take by the
band our genial and beloved friend, Dr. Ray
Palmer.-Rev. T. L. Cuyler in "Jieart Life."
" HAVE YOU ON THE LORD BELIEVED? ")
A VAST fortune was left in the hands of a
minister for one of his poor parishioners. Fearimg that it might be squandered, if suddenly bestowed upon him, the wise minister sent hiim a
little at a time with a note sayinlg: " This is
tine: use it wisely; there is more to follow."
106 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
This incident, as told by Mr. Moody, suggested
to Mr. Bliss his popular  hymn, "More to follow."
"Have you on the Lord believed?
Still there's more to follow;
Of his grace have you received?
Still there's more to follow;
Oh, the grace the Father shows!
Still there's.more to follow,
Freely he his grace bestows,
Still there's more to follow."
" THERE WERE NINETY AND NINE."
VARIOUS statemlents hlaving been published
respecting the origin of the famous hymn, " The
Ninety and Nine," sung by Mr. Sankey, it is
well to follow them with the sweet singer's own
account, which is to the effect that the hymn
was written by a Miss Eliza C. Clephane of Melrose, Scotland, a member of the church of Scotland. It was first published in The Family
Treasury, of which the late Dr. Arnot was editor.  But Mr. Sankey found it in The CIGristian
Age, a London religious paper.
"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
107 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Away on the mountains wild and bare,
Away from the tender Shepherd's care.
"' Lord, thou hast here thy ninety and nine;
Are they not enough for thee?'
But the Shepherd made answer: "Tis of mine
Has wandered away from me; 
And although the road be rough and steep
I go to the desert to find my sheep."
";DEPTHS  OF MERCY!  CAN  THERE BC
DFPTH~S OF MERCY!-CAN  THERrE8 BIE.
Charles'Wes
~DEPTH~S OF MERICY! CAN THERE~ BIE?
— Charles'Wesley.
AN actress in one of the English provincial or
country theatres, was one day passing through
the streets of the town in wvhich she resided,
when her attention was attracted by the sound
of voices in a poor cottage before her. Curiosity prompted her to look in at the open door,
when she saw a few people sitting together, one
of whom, at the moment of her observation, was
giving out the hymin, which the others joined in
singing,
"Depths of mercy! can there be
Mercy still reserved for me?"
The tune was sweet anId simple;  but she
heeded it not.  The words had riveted her attention, and she stood motionless, until shle was
invited to enter by the womana  of the house,
108 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
who had observed her standing at the door.
She remained during a prayer which was offered
up by one of the little company; and, uncouth
as the expressions sounded, perhaps, to her
ears, they carried with them a conviction of sin cerity on the part of the person engaged.
She quitted the cottage; but the words
of the hymn followed her, and at last she
resolved to procure the book which contained
it.  She did so;  and the more she read it,
the more decided her serious impressions became.   She  attended  the  ministry of  the
gospel, read her hitherto neglected and despised Bible, and bowed herself in humility
and contrition of heart before ilim whose
mercy she now felt she needed, whose sacrifices are those of a broken heart and a contrite spirit, and who has declared that.with
such sacrifices he is well pleased.
Her profession she determined at once to
renounce, and for some time excused herself
from appearing on the stage, without, however, making known her resolution finally to
leave it.
The  manager of the  theatre called upon
109 
TROPIIIES OF SONG.
her one morning and requested her to sustain
the principal character in a new play which
was to be performed the next week. She
had frequently performed this character to
general admiration; but she now, however,
told him her resolution never to appear as an
actress again, at the same time giving her
reasons.  At first he attempted to overcome
her scruples by ridicule; but this was unavailing: he then represented the loss he would
incur by her refusal, and concluded by promising that if, to oblige him, she would act on
this occasion, it would be the last request of
the kind he would ever make. Unable to resist his solicitations, she promised to appear,
and on the appointed evening went to the
theatre. The character which she assumed
required her, on her first entrance, to sing a
song; and, when the curtain drew up, the
orchestra immediately began the accompaniment. But she stood as if lost in thought,
and as one forgetting all around her and her
situation. The music ceased, but she did not
sing; and, supposing her to be overcome by
embarrassment, the band again commenced.
110 
TROPIHIIES OF SONG.
A second time they paused for her to begin;
anl.d still she did not open her lips. A third
time the air was played; and then, with
clasped hands and eyes suffused with tears,
she sang, -not the words of the song, but,          Depth of mercy! can there be
Mercy still reserved for me?"
It is almost needless to add that the performance was suddenly ended. Many ridiculed, though some were induced from that
memorable  night  to "consider their ways,"
and to reflect on the wonderful power of the
religion which could influence the heart and
change the life of one hitherto so vain and
so evidently pursuing the road which leadeth
to destruction.  The change in Miss        was
as permanent as it was singular: she walked
consistently with her profession of religion
for many years, and at length became the
wife of a minister of the gospel of our Lord
Jesus Christ.-Belcher; see also "Iredyed in,"
by E. S. Phelps, p. 385.
111 
TROPIES OF SONG.
"FREE FROM THE LAW, OIH, HAPPY CONDITION."
A,GENTLEMAN in Edinburgh was in distress
of soul, and happened to linger in a pew after
the noon meeting. The choir had remained to
practise, and began
"Free from the law, oh, happy condition,"
etc. Quickly the Spirit of God carried that
truth home to the awakened conscience, and he
was at rest in the finished work of Jesus.
" GUIDE ME, 0 THOU GREAT JEHOVAH."
- WTilliam Williams.
THE power of this hymn as a shield is illustrated  by an  allegory  of  Christmas  Evans.
"I see the unclean spirit rising like a winged
dragon, circling in the air, and seeking for
a  resting-place.   Casting  his  fiery glances
toward a certain neighborhood, he spies a
young man in the bloom of life, and rejoicing in
his strength, seated on the front of his cart,
going for lime.'Thiere he is!' said the old
dragon;'his veins are full of blood, and his
bones of narrow; I will throw into his bosom
112 
TROPHIES OF SON.G.
sparks from hell; I will set all his passions
on fire; I will lead him from bad to' worse,
until     he shall perpetrate  every sin.   I will
make   him a murderer, and his soul shall sink,
never again to rise, in the lake of fire.'  By this
time, I see it descend, with a fell swoop toward
the earth; but, nearer the youth, the dragon
heard  him sing,
'Guide me, 0 Thou Great Jehovah! I
Pilgrim through this barren land:
I am weak, but thou art mighty;
Hold me with thy powerful hand.
Strong Deliverer,
Be thou still my strength and shield.'
'A dry, dry place this,' says the old dragon;
and away hle goes. But I see him again hovering about in the air, and casting about for a
suitable resting-place.  Beneath his eye there
is a flowery  meadow, watered  by a  crystal
stream;  and he descries among  the  kine a
maiden, about eighteen years of age, picking up
here and there a beautiful flower.' There she
is' says ApollyoIn, intent upon her soul;' I
will poison her thoughts; she shall stray from
113
0 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
the paths of virtue; she shall think evil thoughts
and         become impure; she shall become a lost
creature in the great city, and, at last, I will cast
her          down from the precipice into everlasting
burninigs.' Again he took his downward flight,
but          he   1no sooner came near the maiden, than lie
heard her sing the following words, with a voice
that  might have melted the rocks,
'Other refuge have I none;
Hangs my helpless soul on thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone:
Still support and comfort me.'
Again he turned away defeated.
say, as did the enemies of the
their sonlgs we are conquered.'"
AdGuide me,Ac
|    O thou 
wGreat Jeho- 
\vah.
OUR SHIELD OF SONG.
114
I
The devil, can
reformers, I By 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
" ALMOST PERSUADED."
MR. SANKEY was with Mr. Moody in Philadelplia, years since, during the progress of a very
interesting meeting at Dr. Reed's church, when
many were being awakened, and sang this beautiful Gospel hymn, "Almost Persuaded."  After
the close of the meetilg, an attorney, who had
been very much interested, came forward and
said that he was not only "almost " but "altogether persuaded " to put his trust in the Lord
Jesus.  This sweet song was used of the HIoly
Ghost in carrying the blessed Gospel of God's
Son to his heart.
"Almost persuaded" now to believe;
"Almost persuaded" Christ to receive;
Seems now some soul to say,
"Go, Spirit', go thy way,
Some more convenient day
On thee I'll call."
"Almost persuaded," come, come to-day;
" Almost persuaded," turn not away;
Jesus invites you'here,
Angels are lingering near,
Prayers rise from hearts so dear:
O wanderer, come.
"Almost persuaded," harvest is past!
"Almost persuaded," doom comes at last!
115 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"Almost" cannot avail;
"Almost " is but to fail!
Sad, sad that bitter wail -
"Almost - but lost!"
"THERE IS A LAND OF PURE DELIGHEIT."
-Isaae Watts.
WE  learn from an American writer, who obtained his information on the spot, that the
author of this familiar hymn, - in which every
image is said to be scriptural, every suggestion
appropriate, and every association holy, - wrote
it at Southampton, his native town, while sitting at the window of a parlor which overlooked
the River Itchen, and in full view of the Isle of
Wight,'beyond the swelling flood," representing " the land of pure delight,"
"Where everlasting spring abides,
And never-withering flowers."
It is indeed a fair and beautiful type of that
paradise of which the poet sung. It rises from
the margin of the flood and swells into boundless prospect, all mantled in the richest verdure
116 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
of summer, checkered with forest growth, and
fruitful fields under the highest cultivation, and
gardens, and villas, and every adornment which
the hand of man, in the series of ages, could
create on such susceptible grounds. As the poet
looked upon the waters then before him, he
thought of the final passage of the Christian,
"Death, like a narrow sea, divides
This heavenly land from ours."
-Belcher.
OH, I do not know how we shall stand the
first day in heaven. Do you not think we will
break down in the song from over-delight? I
once gave out in church the hymn:
"There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign,"
and an aged man standing iii front of the'pulpit
sang heartily the first verse, and then he sat
down weeping.  I said to him afterward, " Fathler Linton, what  made  you  cry over  that
lhymnr?"  He said, "I could not stand it - the
joys that are comuing."
-T. Dewitt Talmaye.
117 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
"i ARISE, MY  SOUL, ARISE."
-Charles WTesley.
"NOTICE the first trial that the world ever
saw. God reads the charge,' Where is Abel,
thy brother?" Cain has the presumption to
deny his guilt:'I know not.' The trial proceeds: a brother's blood is the terrible accuser,
and when sentence of banishment has been
pronounced, the condemned man goes forth,
crying out,'My guilt is greater than I can
bear.'' From thy face shall I be hid.'"
"I am thinking of another trial scene," said
Mizpah,  with  such emotion  that every one
eagerly listened. "The judge is the infinite
God, and the guilty one is my soul. The blood
of Christ might cry out against me from the
cross, as my accuser, but it'speaketh better
thinys   than that of Abel;' it speaketh as my
advocate,
'Five bleeding wounds he bears,
Received on Calvary;
They pour effectual prayers,
They strongly plead for me:
NOTE.-This hymn represents every step of the prodigal's experience, from the time when he  says "I will arise,"  to the
glad moment when the Father "owns him for his child."  The
story in Luke xv. should be read in connection with the hymn.
118 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Forgive him, O forgive, they cry,
Nor let that ransomed sinner die.'
Through fiis advocate we may be saved Iromn
the terrible cly of banishment,'From thy face
shall 1 be hid!' "
"STAND UP! STAND UP FOR JESUS!"
— Rev. Geo. Duffield, Jr.
THIS deservedly popular hymn was composed
t o be  sung after a sermon delivered by its author, t    he Sabbath following the mournfully sudden death of the Rev. Dudley A. Tyng, who
wa s             called from earth ill 1858, and whose dying
counsel to his brethren in the ministry was,
"Stand up for Jesus!"
— Belcher.
" COME THOU FOUNT OF EVERY BLESSING.
-Robinson.
THE  author of this hymn  was at different
times Calvinist, Socinian, Baptist, Independent,
Methodist and lastly irreligious.   During this
last state of life his attention was called to this
119 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
hymn, and he said, "I would give a thousand
worlds   to enjoy the feelings I then had."  In
view         of such ail experience we may well pray, as
well as sing,
"Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to thee."
"JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT ONE PLEA.'
A JEW in New York, who professed not to
believe in either Judaism or Christianity, a
worldly, fashionable, pleasure-serving, man was
seized by a dangerous disease and told that lie
could live only a few days.
In spite of professed infidelity he became anxious         about the future.  Minister after minister
called  upon him, talked and prayed, but in vain.
At      length a Chrlistian businessman came in, and
during his call sang,
"Just as I am without one plea,"
The  Jew  exclaimed, "Do  you really mean
that for me?  You know what I have been -
worldly, skeptical, pleasure-loving. Be very
sure, now.  Do you really mean that for me?"
120 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
" Yes, I do just that."  With much inward
strug,gle the Jew was able to make the words of
the     hymn his own and say to Christ,
"Just as I am, I come, I come."
A few days later he died trusting in IHim,        "Whose love unknown
Had broken every barrier down."
A LITTLE boy came to One of our city missionaries, and holding out a dirty and well-worn bit
of printed paper, said,  "Please, sir, father sent me to get a clean paper like that."
Takling it from his hand, the missionary unfolded it, and found it was a page containing
that beautiful hymn of which the first stanza is
as follows:
"Just as I am, without one plea
But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that thou biddst me come to thee,
0 Lamb of God, I come!"
The missionary looked down with interest into
the face earnestly upturned to him, and asked
the little boy where he got it, and why he wanted
a clean one.
1.21 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
We found it, sir," saidl he, "in sister's pocket
after she died; and shl)e used to sing it all tlhe
time when she was sick, and loved it so much
that father wanted to get a clean one to put in
a frame to hang it up. Wont you give us a
clean one, sir?"
This little page, with a single hymn on it, had
been cast upon the air, like a fallen leaf, by
Christian hlands, humbly  hoping to do some
possible good.  In some little mission Sundayschool, probably, this poor girl had thoughtlessly
received it, afterwards to find in it, we hope, the
Gospel of her salvation.  Could she, in any probability, have gone down into death, sweetly singing that hymn of penitence and faith in Jesus to
her latest breath, without the saving knowledge
of him, which the Holy Spirit imparts?
"sPRAISE GOD FROM WHrOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW."
MANY have heard from Cliaplain McCabe's
own  fire-touchled  lips, how  this  grand  old
doxology, that has doul)tless been  on more
lips than  any  other  uninspired  production,
was  sung  by the starving "boys  in blue"
122 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
that were incarcerated in Libby Prison. Day
after day  they saw comrades  passing  away,
and their numbers increased by fresh, living
recruits for the grave.   One night about ten
o'clock, through the stillness and the darkness,
they heard the tramp of coming feet, that
soon stopped before the prison door until
arrangements could be made inside. In the
company was a young Baptist minister, whose
heart almost fainted as he looked on those
cold walls and thought of the suffering inside.
Tired and weary he sat down, put his face
in his hands and wept. Just then a lone voice
of        deep, sweet  pathos,  sung  out  from  an
upper window,
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow;"
and a dozen manly voices joined in the second
line,
"Praise Him all creatures here below;"
and then by the time the third was reached,
more   than a score of hearts were full, and
these joined to send the words on high,
"Praise Him above ye heavenly host;"
and by this time the prison was all alive,
12.3 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
and seemed to quiver with the sacred song,
as from every room and cell those brave men
sang,
"Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."
As the song died out on the still night that
enveloped in darkness the doomed city of Richmond, the young man arose and happily said,         "Prisons would palaces prove,
If Jesus would dwell with me there."
IN the great cotton famine in England, which
desolated Lancashire for long and weary
months, the conduct of the operatives was
the admiration of the world. There were
no riots and no excess of crimes. The people,
men and women, went into the Sunday-school
houses and prayed.   They had  been  taught
to do so, and they were upheld in the time
of trial by the truths they had learned. When
the first wagon load of cotton arrived, the
people unhooked the horses and drew it themselves, and surrounding it began to sing - what
do you think they sang?  They sang the grand
old doxology, while the tears came flowing
down their cheeks.
124 
CONSECRATED VOICES.
A YOUXG Scottish lady of rank, whose heart
the Lord had touched and opened, longed to
draw others within the circle of a Saviour's
love; but among the gay and proud who were
her companions, the merry jest, the gay laugh,
and the light and frivolous manner of her
associates, hindered every effort, and seemed
to hedge her way before her on every hand.
Discouraged and sad, oppressed with the burden of the Lord, and knowing not how to
attain the desire of her heart, she carried the
matter to God in prayer, and, as was her
custom, closed the day with a song of praise.
Shortly after she had finished her song, her
serving maid entered the room in tears, and
besought her to sing again the sacred words,
and in broken accents told how those strains
had touched and melted her heart.
"No words of entreaty," said she, "could
ever affect my soul as those plaintive songs
to which for weeks I had listened, as my
mistress poured out in them her love for the
Redeemer, and her faith and trust in him."'
125 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
Sleep fled that night from the eyes of the
young disciple, in the new joy and thankfulness that filled her heart at the discovery
of the blessing God had granted upon the songs
she had sung.   "That talent," she said, "I
have consecrated to God. I will sing for him;
and if through this means I may touch souls,
my happiness shall be complete."
From this time, she devoted herself to the
study and expression of sacred song; and
while she touched with skill the various instruments on which she had learned to play,
her voice of wondrous power would entrance
and thrill her hearers.. It was the outgushing
of her joyous heart; the thanksgiving of a
redeemed soul; her testimony, poured upon
careless ears, concerning the wondrous love
of him who came to save our race; who cares
for all his creatures; who gathered little children to his arms, and whose blessing crowns
with joy the saint of God, even down to hoary
hlairs. Many were charmed and cheered with
her songs.  The sweet story of old, thus rendered, seemed to possess new power to melt
the careless heart. In cottages and halls, in
126 
TROPHIES OF SONG.
the drawing-room of wealth and the homes
of humble life, she sung her songs for Jesus,
while with lifted heart she sought his blessing on the offering; and ere many Inonths
had passed away, she had the delight of knowing that numbers of those around her had,
through the songs she sang, been led to taste
the joy which she tasted, being brought up
out of the horrible pit and miry clay, and
placed upon the Living Rock, and having a
new song put in their mouths.
THE  choir of a church in New  York city
have truly consecrated their gift of song to
the service of Christ. Not content with leading the praise of the great congregation, they
are earnest song-workers in the Sunday-school.
And  they do not stop here.  An aged blind
woman will tell you how often they make her
lonely home  happy,  bringing  to her  visions
and dreams of the beautiful land. No wonder
the dear old soul, in humble, but heartfelt appreciation, breaks in upon the strains which
they sing, with her tender, "Bless the Lord!"
If you follow these song messengers after they
127 
TROPIIES -OF SONG.
have left the blind Christian, you shall filnd them
among the sick and dying.  The sufferer forgets
his pain, in listening to their melodies; and the
spirit that is going home, floats peacefully away
to its rest in heaven.
Church and Sunday-school singers everywhere
might well ponder the blessed example of this
choir, and join them in making the waste places
around them vocal with "songs of the beautiful."
128
IL 
APPENDIX.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
MR. IRA D. SANKEY.
MR. SANKEY was born in Edinburgh, Pa., in
the year 1840.  Ihis father was English, and his
mother Scotch-Irish.  The early influences that
surrounded his life were those of a Christian
home.  A Scotchl neighbor lnamed Frazer introduced him to the Sunday-schllool at an early age,
and by this and other acts of Christian friendship greatly endeared himself to the future evangelist, who often makes grateful mention of his
kindness, and his praying as the means of his
conversion., At seventeen Mr. Sankey joined
the Methodist Episcopal church, of which he is
still a member.
When only twenty he was elected superintendent in the Sunday-school and while filling this
129 
APPENDIX.
position began to sing sacred solos and to use
sacred songs to express and impress the Gospel.
A few years later he was appointed a classleader, and in that position urged upon his class
the importance of using God's "testimonies " in
their testimonies, quoting much from the Bible.
During the war he served his country as a soldier, and after it was over, became President of
the Young Men's Christian Association at Newcastle, Pa., which was then his home. While
filling this position Mr. Moody met him at aYoung Melii's Christian Association Convention,
and, being greatly impressed by his way of singing sacred songs, earnestly invited him to come
to Chlicagco to "sing the Gospel " there as (aIn
evangelistic work.   After prayerful consideration of the matter Mr. Sankey gave up his business and entered upon the evangelistic labors in
which he has been so useful since that time.
Not long after Mr. Salnkey began his work in
ClJicago, Mr. Moody's church with whlich he was
laboring, was burned.  The people, however,
were held together by Mr. Sankey's earnest
efforts joined with those of Mr. Moody.
It was at this time that Mr. Sankey received
130 
APPENDIX.
his greatest  incentive  to his Christian work
through the conversion of a clhild by the influence of thle song,
Jesus loves even me."
at onle of his singing meetings in the temporary
tabernacle.  The incident is given in another
place among  those connected  withl  the song
above mentioned.
Soonl after the fire Mr. Sankey went with Mr.
Moody to England for evangelistic work.  The
blessing which attended Mr. Sankey's singing is
sufficiently noted in the introductory letter to
this volume by Mr. Pentecost, who was himself
amid the scenes lie describes.  The -Daily Edinburgh Review gave the following editorial in regard to the powvei of sacred song as Mr. Sankey
used it in Scotland:
"Thle power of nmusic over the mind( and soul
has been described and illustrated with encycloprdic fullness.  Fletcher, of Saltoun, put it iLn a
forcible aphorism whlichl will nlever be forgotten:
'Let me makle the songs of a country, and let
who will make the laws.'  Whnarto-n boasted that
he had overturned an ancient dynasty by a song
- the famous Lillibulero. Whitefield protested
131 
APPENDIX.
that It was not to be borne that the devil should
have all the best tunes. Luther promoted the
Reformation as much by his favorite psalms and
hymns as by his preaching; and our own Scottish forefathers made a notable, if not altogether
successful attempt to wean the population from
the ribald ballads of the sixteenth century, by
substituting'gude and godly ballats,' to the
same melodies, and, as far as might be, adopting
the same words.
"Yet we have hardly wakened up in Scotland
to a sense of the importance of sacred music,
notwithstanding all the efforts made during the
past twenty or thirty years.  In a good many
Presbyterian congregations the psalmody is still
treated as a bit of colvenieenit padding to be laid
between the more important exercises of worship.  The minister gives'out four verses, sometimes only three, and sometimes only two; and
by getting up to preach or to pray, or by looking
up his text or his MSS during the singing, shows
that he has not got his mind in that part of the
proceedings. And should the sermon be of more
than the average duration, an attempt is made
to recover the lost time by shortening the sing
132 
APPENDIX.
ing.  Any prejudice there may be against'singing the Gospel' will thaw and resolve itself into
a. pleasant dew as soon as hle opens his mouth.
"Why should there be any prejudice? For
generations most of the Highlland ministers, and
some of the Lowland ministers, too, have sung
the Gospel - sung their sermons, aye, and sung
their prayers, too.  The only difference'is that
tliey silng very badly, and Mr. Sanlkey very beautifully.  He accompanied himself oil the'American Organ,' it is true, and some of us who belong to the old school can't swallow the' kist of
whustles' yet.  It may help us over this stulmbling-block if we consider that with the finest
voice and ear in the world nobody could maintain the proper pitch of a melody, singing so long
as Mr. Sankey does.  And then the American
Organ is'only a little one.' When a deputation
from the session waited on Ralph Erskine, to remlonstrate with himn on the enormity of fiddling,
he gave them a beautiful tune on the violincello,
and they were so charmed that they returned to
their constituents with the report that it was all
right -'it wasnla' the wee  sinfu' fiddle' that
their minister operated upon, but a grand inlstru
133 
APPENDIX.
ment, full of grave sweet melody. I'mn afraid
some good, true blue Presbyterians will )e
.
excusing Mr. Sankey's organ, and themselves
for listening to it, by some such plea as
that."
After "singing the Gospel" in many of the
largest cities of England, Scotland and Ireland,
Mr. Sankey has returned to our own country
again, and has achieved "song victories" on our
own shores equal to those which God awarded to
him in other lands.  We shall close this brief
sketch of a career which we trust will long continue, by quoting an editorial from " Tlte InterOcean" of Chicago in regard to " Mr. Sankey's
Musical Oratory"':
"People are not agreed as to what rank Mr.
Sankley shall take as a singer, but they are
agreed as to the point that hlie is just the man to
join Mr. Moody in his great work.  The methods
of the two men are dissimilar, and they appear
on the platform in marked contrast.  Mr. Moody
seizes a crowd at any moment, whether it be
noisv or quiet, and asserts his authority.
"]e never standcls on ceremony, but grapples
with the giant at once: and with a supreme coii
134
I 
APPENDIX.
sciousness that hlie will not lose his grip proceeds
to the business in hand.  Mr. Sankey, on the
other hand, approachles a great crowd with almost womanly gentleness. He touches the keys
of the organii withl soft reverence. He waits till
the Tabernacle is so quiet that you can hear a
pin drop; hle leans forward to say a few words
in an appealing, musical tone, as though he
wanted to be sure that the people were all in responlsive mood, and then he takes possession and
carries the crowd with him. His siniging is a
sort of musical oratory, and it affects or influences people as an oratorical performance rather
than a musical one. That is to say, Mr. Sankey
touches the same chords, arouses the same feelings, appeals to the same emotions that would
be struck or aroused by a persuasive speaker,
and he sways an audience precisely as it would
be surged by a man of rare eloquence.
"If there be arts in his manner, they are of
the orator, rather than of the musician. His
sentences come to the audience clean cut and
ringing with melody.  The sentimnent lives in
the lines and in the tone as well as in the music.
He sings as one in earnest, as one whose heart is
135 
APPENDIX.
full of the sentiment of his song, as one anxious
to express all the tenderest and liveliest feelings
of the human heart.
"Mr. Moody  steps on  the platform like a
blacksmith approaching his forge. He makes no
concessions to circumstances, and is not influenced by unfavorable conditions.
"Mr. Sankey, on the contrary, commences
work when  the doors are closed.  He understands his mission as well as Mr. Moody understands his, and so works with the same great results.  He has studied men and women to good
purpose, and in choice of subject, in lnanner of
introduction, and style of execution lie shows
the results of this study. Musicians may not be
charmed; he is not singing so much for them
as for the men and women with troubled hearts;
for men and women perplexed and tired; for
men and women who have hearts and heartaches, as well as ears. He sings now for the
mother, now for the father, and again for all.
He never makes a mistake. He never promises
more than he accomplishes. He never ventures
to approach a crowd until it is in the right
mood, and lie nlever leaves it until every heart is
136 
APPENDIX.
throbbing responsively. In studying Mr. Moody
we are driven forward to the contemplation of
the results of his work.  In studying Mr. Sankey, we linger over the sweet voice, the trembling tones, the  tender words.   Mr. Moody
startles us and arouses us, while Mr. Salnkey
soothes and comforts. Mr. Moody, earnest as
he is, succeeds without the grace of voice and
manner. Mr. Sankey, earnest as hlie is, succeeds
because of grace in voice and manner. He is
well fitted to be Mr. Moody's companion, and
those who hear him  do not wonder at his continued success in this peculiar field."
137 
SAFE WITH THE MASTER.
Where is now our loved one?
Where,'O where?
Not where the living weary,
Not where the dying moan;
Not where the day is dreary,
Not where the night is lone.
Not in a home of weeping,
Not in a darkened room,
Not ill a graveyard sleeping
'Not ill a silent tomb.
Where is now our loved one?
Where, O where?
Safe in a land immortal,
Safe in a country rare,
Safe in a heavenly portal
Safe in a mansion fair.
Safe with the joys supernal,
Safe with the blest to bow,
Safe with the Love Eternal,
Safe with the Master now.
BY P. P. BLISS.
From "The Prize." Copyrighted.
138 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
P. P. BLISS.
BY. MRS. W. F. CRAFTS.
[Sara 7. Timnants.]
FRIDAY, Dec. 29, 1876, was the last day that
dawned upon the earthly life of "The sweet
singer of Israel," P. P. Bliss.  On the day previous Mr. Bliss and his wife left their miother's home, Rome, Pa., where they had been making a Christmas visit, and started for Chlicago,
when Mr. Bliss and Major D. W. Whittle rvere
to continue, in the great Tabernacle, the evangelistic work begun by Moody and Sankey. As
he rode he busied himself with Bible and paper,
composing a new song which perished with him.
When within about twelve hours ride of Cliicago, the train on which they were traveling
was wrecked by the fearful "Ashtabula disaster," words that will ring like a funeral knell ill
many lives for years to come.  By the giving
~*  ~ 139
I 
APPENDIX.
way of the bridge which spanned the Ashtabula
River the whole train was precipicated into the
ice-bound stream below.  The cars were soon
in flames, and the devastating elements of fire
and water, adding their fury to the wild storm
that was raging at the time, rendered the scene
one of untold horror. The only circumstance
connected with the death of Mr. and Mrs. Bliss
that can be ascertained is that Mr. Bliss, after
escaping out of a window of a car was burned to
death on going back to rescue his wife.
At the meeting held in memory of Mr. Bliss
in Chicago on the following Sunday, the fact
was recalled with a sad interest that the, last
time he had sung in the Moody and Sailkey
meetings he had said, "I don't know as I shall
ever sing here again, but I want to sing this as
the language of my heart," and then had sung
that song of his:
"I know not the hour my Lord will come
To take me away to his own dear home,
But I know that his presence will lighten the gloom,
And that will be glory for me."
At the time of his death Mr. Bliss was in the
140 
APPENDIX. 
very prime and vigor of manhood, being thirtyeight years of age.
His boyhood and early manhood were spent in
northwest Pennsylvania.
In the year 1868, Mr. George F. Root of Chicago, the well-known music publisher, learning
of his musical ability - both as ax composer and
leader, engaged his services. Mr. Bliss then removed to Chicago, and for nearly six years went
out into different parts of the West to conduct
Normal Musical Institutes.  He  was also engaged during this time in composing Sundayschool music, the first of which appeared in 1870
in a book edited and published by Mr. George
F. Root, entitled, " The Prize."
These were days of beginnings and of trials in
the life of Mr. Bliss and his wife.  Yet they
styled their llhumble home  "The Kot o' Kontent" and gave a cheery welcome to the friends
who visited them.
In 1871 Mr. Bliss' first book, "The Charm,"
appeared and at once gave him a place among
the favorite composers of Sunday-school music.
About this time he was elected to the position
of chorister in the First Congregational Clhurchl
141 
APPENDIX.
of Chicago (Rev. Dr. Goodwin's), of which he
had become a member.  On coming to Chicago,
having previously been a Metlhodist. He was
also chosen superintendent of the large Sundayschool of that church, very many of whose menmbers were led to Christ by his influence.  F'requent demanaids were now made upon him to sing
at dedications, anniversaries and Sunday-schlool
gatherings. On these occasions hlie gave his services whenever time would permit.  His Nolrmal Musical work still continued and in 1872 lihe
published a collection of new songs, duets, trios
and quartets, entitled " The Song Tree."  The
design of the book is beautifully expressed in the
following acrostic preface:
Sing away dreariness,
TIree of my love;
Oh, and to weariness
Rest may'st thou prove:
Nobly endeaver the
Erring to win
Guarding forever from
Evil and sin."
Subsequently appeared "SunDshine," a book for
Sunday-schools  and "The  Joy," for classes,
choirs and conventions.
142 
APPENDIX.
Mr. Bliss at length resigned his position as
chorister atnd his work as a mnusical leader, with
much pecuniary sacrifice, in order to give himself wholly to evangelistic woirk. In a letter to
a friend dated "May 13, 1874," when he was
just starting to a Musical Institute, lhe says:
"Do you know Brother Moody, Whittle, and
others are after me to sing Gospel hymns in
evangelistic work.  Shall I?  Where can I accomplish most?  Pray that I may make no mistake."
He  decided to go into this work, and two
months later wrote to the same friend
Miajor Whittle and I are holding protracted
meetings.  God is wonderfully using us i evely
way.  Help us to praise hin for it.  I am preparinig a book of " Gospel Songs" for our special
use, and would be right glad to have you send a
list of lhymns and tunes which have been most
successful in your experience.  And above (ll,
pray for the book.  All the good in the book
must come from God."
This book," Gospel Songs," was published in
1874 with the following acrostic preface whlich
truly represents its deep spiritual p)urpose
143 
APPENDIX.
"God so loved the world that he gave his
Only begotten
Son, that whosoever believeth on him should
not
Perish, but have
Everlasting
Life."
"Serve the Lord with gladness; come before
his presence with thanksgiving.
O Lord, open thou my lips and my mouth shall
show forth thy praise.
Not unto us, 0 Lord, not unto us, but unto
thy name, give glory.
Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised.
Sing unto the Lord, bless his name, show forth
his salvation from day to day.
Since July 1774 Mr. Bliss has been engaged
earnestly and almost constantly in evangelistic
work in connection with Major Whittle. The
following slip which has sometimes been distributed as an invitation to their meetings shows
how they shared the work:
144 
APPENDIX.
WEEK OF PRAYER
MAJOR WHITTLE
WILGL           Izm T   EOSP:LL,
AND
P. P. BLISS
WIILL SI:LtC W-: GOSP'Lr.,
this Wednesday Evening, 7an. 6tzh,
AT UNION PARK CONGREGATIONAL CHURCIH,
ASHLAND AVENUE, OPPOSITE PARK.
SEATS FREE.                       ALL INVITED.
FURTHER APPOINTMENT.
"He hath appointed a day in the which He will
judge the world in righteousness by that Man (Jesus
Christ) whom He hath ordained; whereof He hath
given assurance unto all men in that He hath raised
Him from the dead."-Acts. I7: 3I.
Friend, are you ready to meet this aoppointment?  There can
le no postponement.
145 
APPENDIX.
Mr. Bliss held these evangelistic meetings in
company with  Major Whittle, at Mobile, Atlaita, Nashville,  Louisville,  Cilicago, Peoria,
Kalamazoo, Jackson, and many other places, and
always with great success.
Mr. Bliss sang as earnest ministers preach, not
for artistic effects but to express and impress thle
Gospel.  In his singing he was putting in practice what he so often exhorted upon others in his
song:
"Let the lower lights be burning,
Send a gleam across the wave;
Some poor fainting, struggling seaman
You may rescue, you may save."
His songs in these " Gospel meetings" were
frequently prefaced with a short and earnest
prayer by himself or by the reading or repeating
of Scripture passages in the audience.
The following brief remarks, made by Mr.
Bliss at "The Sunday-school Parliament," on
WVellesley Island in the St. Lawrenlce River, during the summer of 1876, shows his lhigh estimate
of sacred music:
"That which ought to have the greatest emphasis just now in regard to sacred music is the
146 
APPENDIX.
need of greater reverence.  While a song is being sung, people will pass up a church aisle or a
Sunday-school aisle, whisper to each other, move
about the room, distribute or collect library
books, put on overcoats, or do a score of other
things that one would.never think of doiny during
any other kind of prayer.  Whlen we are offering
praise or prayer to God in metre, as much as if
we were doing it upon our knees, a reverence of
mannler and spirit should accompany it. Another
thing to be enforced in connection with singing is a greater thoughtfulness in regard to the
meaning of what we sing. Are the words prayer?
Or praise? Let appropriate thought as well as
appropriate melody accompany the words."
MIg. Bliss is known even more widely as a
coImposer of sacred song than as a singer, being
the author of both words and music of the following popular songs: " Jesus loves even me,"
Almost persuaded," "Hold the fort," "Pull
for the shore," "What shall the harvest be?"
More  to follow,"  " Hallelujah,'tis done,"
"Free from the law," "Let the lower lights be
burning," "Whosoever heareth," and "Only an
armnor-bearer."
147 
APPENDIX.
In all these and his other hymns Mr. Bliss
shlowed a remarkable skill in versifying evangelical doctrine in the very phrases of Scripture.
Mr. Bliss composed with the greatest ease and
his music was mnostly bright and cheerful.  When
Haydn was asked," why his music was so gladsome," lie replied, "I can't make any other.  I
write as I feel.  When I think of God my heart
is so full of joy that the words dance and leap
from my pen." The same might he said of Mr.
Bliss and his music, for he was in perfect harmony with God and his work.
The titles of his books "Sunshine "and "Joy"
epitomize the author as a Christian and a composer.  Indeed his own name, "Bliss" would
fulfill George MacDonald's idea of a true same
when he says:
"A name of the ordinary kind in this world
has nothing essential in it. It is but a label by
which a man and a scrap of history may  be
known from another man and his scrap of history. The true name is one which expresses
the character, the nature, the being, the meaning
of the person who bears it.  To whom is this
name given?' To limi that overcometh.'"
148 
APPENDIX.
No element of pride entered into Mr. Bliss'
estimate of his work. A friend wrote him a letter quoting somewhat from'" Waiting and watch
ing for me."  The  reply came back, "No, I
don't seem to rest much in the hope of seeing a
throng of heavenly ones waiting and watching
for me.   They might be in better business.
Nor of hearing echoes of my sngs there.  I
want something better. The best things about
heaven, seems to me, will be eternal freedom
from sin, and Jesus' immediate presence.
' There we shall see His face
And never, never sin."'
His prayer in song expresses the humility and
also the spiritual aspiration of his heart:
"More purity give me,
More strength to o'ercome,
M6re freedom from earth-stains,
More longings for home;
More fit for the kingdom,
More used would I be,
More blessed and holy
More, Saviour, like thee."
As to personal appearance Mr. Bliss is thus
pictured by one who knew him well:
" He was tall and well-developed in his phy
149 
APPENDIX.
sical frame, with clustering black hair and a
handsome face, possessing  easy and polished
manners and a very joyous temperament, to getler with a wealth of sympathy'."
Perhaps the most notable traits in Mr. Bliss'
character were his "rock-firm God-trust" ancd
his cheerful self-sacrifice.
After the great fire in Chicago he wrote:
"I think God is bringing great good out of
this seeming evil. Unite your prayer daily with
ours that' after the fire the still, small voice may
be heard and that the Spirit may be poured out
in this city."
He wrote a song'of. comfort to cheer those
who had suffered by the fire, and sang it with
his granld voice here and there through thle city
itself and afterwards in a tour with Mr. Moody
raising a relief fund.  We give two verses of the
song below:
"3. Thousands are homeless, and quick to their cry
Heaven-born charity yields a supply,
Upward we glance in our telrrible grief,
'Give us this day' brings the promised relief.
" 4. Treasures have vanished and riches have flown,
Hopes for the earth-life are blasted and gone,
150 
APPENDIX.
Courage, 0 brother, yield not to despair,
'God is our refuge,' his kingdom we share."
C710rus.
" Roll on, roll on, 0 billow of fire!
Dash with thy fury waves higher and higher
Ours is a mansion abiding and sure,
Ours is a kingdom eternal, secure."
During the sessions of a Sunday-schlool camp
meeting in which lie was the musical leader
there came up a very sudden and severe gale,
rending and throwing to earth tile pavilion tent
which but an hour previous had been occupied
by several hundred persons. Providentially the
gale occurred at the nloonl hour when but few
were under it and all these escaped unharmed.
"Is any one killed or hurt?" was Mr. Bliss'
first question.
6" No."
"Thank God! We must have a praise meetimg."
Soon after, at the opening of the afternoon
session, with tearful eyes and beaming face he
led the great congregation in singing:
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow."
Perhaps the most complete evidence of Mr.
151 
APPENDIX.
Bliss' trust in God was his actual dependence
upon him for daily bread.
In the summer of 1876 a friend congratulated
Mrs. Bliss that the immense sale of "Gospel
Hymns and Sacred Songs" must have given
them at least ten thousand dollars to pay down
toward a home. She replied, "Mr. Bliss has
not ten dollars to pay down onl a home. Since
January we have been living from day to day,
doing the Lord's work with our might and depending upon what he sends us. Although the
illness of our children has greatly increased our
expenses beyond other years God has sent us
enough to supply our needs."
Many are not aware that Mr. Bliss, as well as
Mr. Sankey, gave up the royalty upon the "Bliss
and Sankey Song Book," (not "The Moody and
Sankey Song Book," as it is sometimes thoughtlessly called) and thus sacrificed about thirty
thousand dollars, putting the royalty into the
hands of Mr. George H. Stuart, Mr. W. E.
Dodge, Jr., and Mr. John V. Farwell, to use it
for charitable and evangelistic purposes.  "Gospel Hyminns No. 2," which Mr. Bliss with Mr. Sankey had just completed when hlie was killed, was
152 
APPENDIX.
sent forth under the same self-sacrificing and
benevolent arrangement on the part of the authlors.
Mr. Moody recently urged Mr. Bliss to take
at ]east five thousand dollars of the royalty for
himself and family, saying that he needed it, but
he would not take a dollar. It must all go for
the Lord's work.
It was sufficient regard to him that the songs
he had composed were proclaiming the Gospel
round the world, being sung not only in Europe,
but also in Africa and Asia.  I recently heard
"Hold the Fort" in Swedish.  A  missionary
letter from Africa. reports the singing of it there
in the Zulu language, and the Bliss and Salnkey
collection has also been translated and published
(in part) in China, in the native tongue.  In
India also singing evangelists are using these
same hymns.
Withl the deep God-trust and self-sacrifice Mr.
Bliss combined an abounding cheerfulness. His
beaming face was a silent psalm assuring the beholder, " Happy is the man that hath the God of
Jacob for his help."
He wrote to a,friend, "Dr. V        is  jolly,
1013 
APPENDIX.
great and good.  Some  people are great and
good, but can't be jolly.  I can't like them quite
so well." He wrote out his ownvi heart in that
verse of his:
" No darkness have we who in Jesus abide,
The Light of the world is Jesus;
We walk in the light when we follow our guide,
The Light of the world is Jesus."
Ile has now realized beyond his utmost dreams
on earth the heavenly glory and joy of which lihe
sang in another verse of that same hymn as well
as in scores of others:
"No need of the sunshine in heaven we're told;
The Light of that world is Jesus.
The Lamb is the light in the City of Gold;
The Light of that world is Jesus."
This sketch would be very incomplete without some record of Mrs. Bliss, whom her husband was pleased to style "My faithful assistant
Lou." Mrs. Bliss was herself the composer of
several choice pieces of music, both hymns and
tunes; one of them a very beautiful tune to the
words of "Rock of Ages."  She wrote many
tunes over the nom de plume " Paulina."  Whenever circumstances would permit she attended
154 
APPENDIX.
her husband in his public work, aiding himl by
her voice and byplaying accompanimenits.  It is
said that from  her he received his first lessons,
both in singing and playing.  They were indeed
of "one accord " in their noble life work.  Whlen
the sudden summons came she was on the Lord's
errand with her husband.
"Lovely and pleasant in their lives, in their
deaths they were not divided."
Mr. Bliss leaves a widowed mother of whom
hle was the only son, and two little ones, Paul
and George, aged four and two  years.  Mr.
Moody asks the people of God to take them in
charge with their money and  their prayers.
ILIe himself has raised ten thousand dollars for
their support and education, and other free-will
offerings have and will come to them from many
a Sunday-school where Mr. Bliss' songs are
sung, and prayers will rise from many hearts
that God will keep them in his sheltering care.
The memorial service in honor of these two
Christian workers in Chicago was the largest
meeting ever held in that city, showing the loving esteem in which hlie was held.  A monument
will be erected to Mr. Bliss' memoly, as is most
155 
APPENDIX.
befitting, but the most enduring monument of
his life will be "the good he has done," and is
i
still doing by his music and his life,- the monument he so often urged others to raise for them
selves, as he sang:
Fading away, like the stars of the morning,
Losing their light in the glorious sun;
So let me steal away, gently and lovingly,
Only remember by what I have done.
I So in the harvest, if others may gather
Sheaves from the fields that in spring I have sown;
Who plowed or sowed matters not to the reaper:
I'm only remembered by what I have done.
Fading away like the stars of the morning,
So let my name be unhonored, unknown;
Here, or up yonder, I must be remembered,
Only remembered by what I have done.
156 
IHISTORIC HYMNS.I
Collected by REV. W. F. CRAFTS.
Music arranged under the supervision of Dr. E. Tour'ee.
A COLLECTION OF
a hundred popular STANDARD HYMNS, of which incidents
are given in "Trophies of Song." A pamphlet of thirty-two
pages, in stout covers, which affords
A CHEAP HYMN BOOK
forSunday Schools, Congregational Singing, Praise Meetings,
Concerts,  Camp Meetings and Special Services.   It has
doubled the volume 6f congregational singing in churches,
where it has been used, by furnishing the words, at a slight
expense, to every person in the congregation. Besides the
hymns, "Bible Readings," Responsive Readings, Introductory Responsive Services, &c., &c., are also included. Commended by I. D. STARKEY, P. P. BLIss, and other prominent
singers
Price, in Stout Paper Cover, per 100,   -   -   87.00.
" Cloth, per 100,   - -. ---       10.00.
Send ten cents for specimen copy.
TROPHIES OF SONG.
BY REV. W. F. CRATS.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY DR. E. TOUBJEE.
A COMPILATION OF
200 STRIKING INCIDENTS,
connected with the origin and history of our most popular
hymns, both of the Church and Sunday School, together
with articles by prominent writers on "Praise Meetings,"
"Congregational Singing," "Sunday School Singing," and
all the various uses of sacred music. Its suggestions and incidents make it valuable to pastors, superintendents and
choristers, and its numerous and thrilling incidents give it
interest for the general reader and even for children.  Price
$1.25.
D. LOTHBOP & CO., Publishers,
|HISTORIC HYMNS.| 
THE NAME ABOVE EVERY NAME.  Insending forth a
new and revised edition of this work the Publishers append a few of the
many  favorable  notices  which,  from  various  sources,  testify  to  its
catholicity, and its adaptation to the wants of the disciples of our Lord
by whatever denominational name they may be called.
The Name above Every Name. or, Devotional Meditations.
W.is A TEXT FOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR.  By  the Rev. Samuel Cuater.
This little volume, which is a gem of typography, is just what it claims
to be-{'devotional and practical.'   The  pure gold of the gospel is here
without the base alloy of man's wisdom. It accords with the teachings
of the divine Spirit, and tends to exalt in the souls of men the Christ of
God.
The texts are fitly chosen, and the exquisite fragments of sacred poetry
seem like jewels from a mine of inspiration. None can read this book
devoutly without being benefited; and all who read it in the spirit in which
it appears to have been written, will lay down the volume with higher
views of Christ's nature, and of His work, and reverently acknowledge that
if His name be above eyery name in dignity and glory, it is also, as de clared in the inspired canticle, "as ointment poured forth" in its heavenly
fragrance. - Parish Visitor.
From the Congregationist.
rhe Name above Every Name. It has a chapter for every
week in the year, each chapter preceded with appropriate passages from
Scripture and closing with a choice selection from devotional poetry. The
whole book is eminently evangelical, and fitted to foster the growth of
true and genuine piety in the soul.
The Name above Every Name.   By the Rev. Samuel
Cutler. This has been carefully prepared by its author. The texts are
for every day in the year, anid have reference to the Scriptural titles of
our Lord. The devotional and practical meditations are for every week in
the year.  The appendix contains five hundred and twenty five titles of
our Lord, with the Scriptual reference; also a topical and alphabetical list
of the titles. and of first lines of poetry with the author's name..
The work is exceedingly valuable, not only for-its meditations, but for
the great amount of information which it contains. It is a book which
the Christian would do well always to have at hand. Evagelical Knowl.
edge Society.
The volume is a precious vade tnecum, for all who love the "Name that
is above every name"-Protestant Churchman.
Plain Edition $.oo  Full Gilt $I 50             Red line Edition $2.00o
D. Lothrop & Co., Publishers, Boston 
_        ~~_
-A55254 7
IONGVICTORIES
WINl~~l 1310GEAPI-IIAL SHETCIIES OF
-IRA- D. SANKEY AND, P. P. BLISS.
, a     * e  I  *   I' *~  8~ *0 0.P                       *~ 6
'I —(OSTO,),i"  -) I'  (I  li'?O',)  k   CO,~ PUBLISIIERS..
a
z
i
3 
I
i
I
r.
i
i
i
I
-, -A
I 
(_. iT]~ L, l    z k        / i /'V   t-1Z' KU t  J_.
T3Vy WMI. M. F. ROUND,
Of thle Ar-e   1 9rl nJde/eo1aIe  authlor of "AchsaA."   IluitstratedI withl engravings of cel tibrattd. s ots, aid with port'aits drawn from'thotographls  lJyMlss C.A. NORTHAM.  T'his
tu.ittle serial of chlill-joturneving in Europe is a trie-record  of the experiences of a real little
American g:il arl)oad,   ait 0 ccou]ts of hier visits to the Pope, her playtines with the Princess
Marie Val irie, h3r holi days at Chlit elh urst withl the Pri nce Imperial, her Christmnas at Mad anme Mc     hlon's. &c. 
IV.
DA UGHT~~  AND 1.
1'v Mrs. HELEN TRACY MYERS.  A Series of Practical Housekeeping Papers forGirls.
V.
7'E FJOCIV  A&TD J?OSSY STOR:IES.'
For tlhe Little Folks. BY MARGARET H. ECKERSON.  Illustrated hy JEssIF CrRTItr.
VI.
AD TI;V7'(URFS  If M[L'lPD*JXS  ErI;IKfN BA UL.
Byv JOHN -BROWNJOHN. DIone iin Y:erse and Picture for the Boys. 
VII...
TATN L'E -. 
A   epartment of Prize Puzzles.  Eitedry KI   CLINTON
~A Depa,rt'ment of Prize'Puzzles.'E~ied'by KIT CLINTON
Short Stories, Poems, Papers of Travel, Tfo  fo r Little.Fingers, Music, Parlor Pastimes,
S.S. Coscert Exer-ises, will be contributed by Elizabeth Stuart Phe,ps, Mrs. Celia Thaxter,
MNrs. S. M. B. Piatt. Mary Clemmer, Rossiter Join,   Rev. W.  M.  B3aker, C,,L McAdoo,
Mary Faith Floyd, Mrs. Melt  Colqit,. C            C]qu,   iMoty Bates, Edgar Fawcett, Margaret
Eystinge, M. Qu'ad, Mrs. Mary M. B. C. Siade  Miss  F.  P. Chaplin, Geo. B. Bartlett, Dr.
Eb en Toutrjee, and others.   Price $2.00 per annium, postage paid.
Address the Ptlblishers,                1).  LOTI4ROP   &  CO.,:
"..'             0-:-30 &  32 Iraniklin St., Bos>o:n.