heaven. A few months afterwards sickness was on him, 9. 'Tis religion that can give Solid comfort when we die. After death its joys shall be This poem, in six lines, is from an English book, by Mary Masters. In the preface to the work, we read, "The author of the following poems never read a treatise of rhetoric or an art of poetry, nor was ever taught her English grammar. Her education rose no higher than the spelling-book or her writing-master. Her genius to poetry was always discountenanced by her parents, and till her merit got the better of her fortune, she was shut out from all commerce with the more knowing and polite part of the world." Io. The American Sunday-school hymn, beginning, "Stand up, stand up for Jesus," was composed by George Duffield, a Presbyterian clergyman in Detroit. He was born at Carlisle, Penn., in 1818, and graduated at Yale College in 1837. He has written a number of hymns, of which, "Stand up for Jesus," owing perhaps to its associations, is best known. It was composed to be sung after a sermon delivered by the writer on the sudden death of Rev. Dudley A. Tyng, whose dying words to his Christian brothers were, "Stand up for Jesus." Dudley Atkins Tyng was born on the 12th of January; 1825, in a quiet parsonage in Prince George Co., Va. His father, Dr. Stephen H. Tyng, removed to St. George's Church, Philadelphia, in which parish Dudley passed his boyhood. He was a precocious scholar. He was able to read the Latin authors at the age of seven, and he entered the University of Pennsylvania at the age of fourteen. He became the subject of converting grace and experimental religion in 1841. His father relates the following touching incident in connection with his conversion: "Late one night, when all the family had retired to rest, and left me to my closing hour of solitude in my study, I heard the sound of feet descending the stairs. It was this dear boy, who had risen from his bed in sleepless sorrow. As he came into my room and pressed his arms around my neck, he said, "Dear father, I cannot sleep, I am so sinful. Father, will you pray for me?" In 1854, Mr. Tyng became rector of the church of the Epiphany, Philadelphia, and he entered with glowing. zeal and love for souls into the revival work associated with the great religious awakening which, soon after his instalment, manifested itself at Philadelphia and in the principal cities of the United States. He was the favorite leader of the great union prayer-meetings held in Philadelphia, and it is said that he met more inquirers during the revival than any other pastor in the city. . In the spring following the great awakening, he met with a terrible accident that proved fatal in its results. "Dr.," said the young pastor to his physician, "my friends have given me up; they say that I am dying; is that your opinion?" The doctor replied in the affirmative. "Then, doctor, I have something to say to you. I have loved you much as a friend; I long to love you as a brother in Jesus Christ. Let me entreat you now to come to Jesus." He was asked if he had any message to his brethren in the ministry. He said, addressing his father, "Father, stand up for Jesus. Tell them, let us all stand up for Jesus." He became partially unconscious. He did not know any of the members of the family. "Do you know Jesus?" he was asked. His answer was jubilant. "I know Jesus. I have a steadfast trust in Jesus-a calm and steadfast trust." "Are you happy?" "Perfectly! perfectly." He was buried amid the tears of more than ten thousand people. II. The English Sunday-school hymn, so popular in Episcopal churches, beginning, "Daily, daily sing the praises Of the city God has made, was composed by Sabine Baring-Gould, and originally printed on a card for the use of St. John's Mission, Horbury Bridge, Yorkshire. The same year it appeared in the Church Times." The chorus is vigorous, and the music is animating as the hymn: "Oh that I had wings of angels, Here to spread and heavenward fly, I would seek the walls of Zion, Far beyond the starry sky." 12. The authorship of the hymn, beginning, "Just as I am, without one plea,” has recently been noticed in several religious papers. It was written by Charlotte Elliott of Torquay, Eng. She was born March 18, 1789, and died at Brighton, Sept. 22, 1871. The original hymn has a stanza often omitted: "Just as I am, of that free love The breadth, length, depth, and height to prove, Here for a season, then above, O Lamb of God, I come." 13. The favorite Sunday-school hymn, beginning, was composed by Bishop Heber. He but gives in it his own experience. His early feet "trod the paths of peace," and his mind was early "upward drawn to God." He was a solitary student at Oxford, his gentle, devotional nature shrinking from the show and affectation of society. His fine poem, "Palestine," was written for a college exercise. Though so quiet, he became greatly beloved at Oxford, and when "Palestine" was first read by him in the theatre, at the annual college commencement, it was received with such an outburst of applause as probably never before greeted an Oxford student. His aged father and mother were present on the occasion. After the reading of the poem, young Heber was for a long time missing, and his mother, going to look for him, softly opened the door of his sleeping room. She found him on his knees breathing out his soul in gratitude and prayer. 14. The hymn, used both in the church and Sundayschool, beginning, "O mother dear, Jerusalem,' was written in the Tower of London on the Thames, during the reign of Elizabeth. Its figures and contrasts are those of imprisonment. Such lines as "Oh happy harbor of God's saints,” "There envy bears no sway," "Thy turrets and thy pinnacles," "We that are here in banishment,' have new meanings as we understand the associations amid which they were written. Some of the stanzas, usually omitted in hymn-books, are very beautiful. Its author was Francis Baker. It is also inscribed to David Dickson, 1583-1662. O MOTHER dear, Jerusalem! When shall I come to thee? When shall my sorrows have an end? Oh happy harbor of God's saints! In thee no sorrow can be found, Nor grief nor care nor toil. |