I walked through the woodland meadows Where sweet the thrushes sing, And found on a bed of mosses A bird with a broken wing.

I healed its wound, and each morning It sang its old sweet strain, But the bird with a broken pinion Never soared as high again.

I found a young life broken By sin's seductive art; And, touched with a Christ-like pity, I took him to my heart.

He lived--with a n.o.ble purpose, And struggled not in vain; But the life that sin had stricken Never soared as high again.

But the bird with a broken pinion Kept another from the snare, And the life that sin had stricken Saved another from despair.

Each loss has its compensation, There is healing for every pain But the bird with a broken pinion Never soars as high again.

In the tune an extra stanza is added--as if something conventional were needed to make the poem a hymn. But the professional tone of the appended stanza, virtually all in its two lines--

Then come to the dear Redeemer, He will cleanse you from every stain,

--is forced into its connection. The poem told the truth, and stopped there; and should be left to fasten its own impression. There never was a more solemn warning uttered than in this little apologue. It promises "compensation" and "healing," but not perfect rehabilitation. Sin will leave its scars. Even He who "became sin for us" bore them in His resurrection body.

Rev. Frank M. Lamb, composer and singer of the hymn-tune, was born in Poland, Me., 1860, and educated in the schools of Poland and Auburn. He was licensed to preach in 1888, and ordained the same year, and has since held pastorates in Maine, New York, and Ma.s.sachusetts.

Besides his tune, very pleasing and appropriate music has been written to the little ballad of the broken wing by Geo. C. Stebbins.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Ellen M.H. Gates]

UNDER THE PALMS.

In the cantata, "Under the Palms" ("Captive Judah in Babylon")--the joint production of George F. Root[19] and Hezekiah b.u.t.terworth, several of the latter's songs detached themselves, with their music, from the main work, and lingered in choral or solo service in places where the sacred operetta was presented, both in America and England. One of these is an effective solo in deep contralto, with a suggestion of recitative and chant--

By the dark Euphrates' stream, By the Tigris, sad and lone I wandered, a captive maid; And the cruel a.s.syrian said, "Awake your harp's sweet tone!"

I had heard of my fathers' glory from the lips of holy men, And I thought of the land of my fathers; I thought of my fathers'

land then.

Another is--

O church of Christ! our blest abode, Celestial grace is thine.

Thou art the dwelling-place of G.o.d, The gate of joy divine.

Whene'er I come to thee in joy, Whene'er I come in tears, Still at the Gate called Beautiful My risen Lord appears.

--with the chorus--

Where'er for me the sun may set, Wherever I may dwell, My heart shall nevermore forget Thy courts, Immanuel!

[Footnote 19: See page 316.]

"IF YOU CANNOT ON THE OCEAN."

This popular Christian ballad, ent.i.tled "Your Mission," was written one stormy day in the winter of 1861-2 by Miss Ellen M. Huntington (Mrs.

Isaac Gates), and made her reputation as one of the few didactic poets whose exquisite art wins a hearing for them everywhere. In a moment of revery, while looking through the window at the falling snow, the words came to her:

If you cannot on the ocean Sail among the swiftest fleet.

She turned away and wrote the lines on her slate, following with verse after verse till she finished the whole poem. "It wrote itself," she says in her own account of it.

Reading afterwards what she had written, she was surprised at her work.

The poem had a meaning and a "mission." So strong was the impression that the devout girl fell on her knees and consecrated it to a divine purpose. Free copies of it went to the Cooperstown, N.Y., local paper, and to the New York _Examiner_, and appeared in both. From that time the history and career of "Your Mission" presents a marked ill.u.s.tration of "catenal influence," or transmitted suggestion.

In the later days of the Civil War Philip Phillips, who had a wonderfully sweet tenor voice, was invited to sing at a great meeting of the United States Christian Commission in the Senate Chamber at Washington, February, 1865, President Lincoln and Secretary Seward (then president of the commission) were there, and the hall was crowded with leading statesmen, army generals, and friends of the Union. The song selected by Mr. Phillips was Mrs. Gates' "Your Mission":

If you cannot on the ocean Sail among the swiftest fleet, Rocking on the highest billows, Laughing at the storms you meet, You can stand among the sailors Anch.o.r.ed yet within the bay; You can lend a hand to help them As they launch their boats away.

The hushed audience listened spell-bound as the sweet singer went on, their interest growing to feverish eagerness until the climax was reached in the fifth stanza:

If you cannot in the conflict Prove yourself a soldier true, If where fire and smoke are thickest There's no work for you to do, When the battlefield is silent You can go with careful tread; You can bear away the wounded, You can cover up the dead.

In the storm of enthusiasm that followed, President Lincoln handed a hastily scribbled line on a bit of paper to Chairman Seward,

"Near the close let us have 'Your Mission' repeated."

Mr. Phillips' great success on this occasion brought him so many calls for his services that he gave up everything and devoted himself to his tuneful art. "Your Mission" so gladly welcomed at Washington made him the first gospel songster, chanting round the world the divine message of the hymns. It was the singing by Philip Phillips that first impressed Ira D. Sankey with the amazing power of evangelical solo song, and helped him years later to resign his lucrative business as a revenue officer and consecrate his own rare vocal gift to the Christian ministry of sacred music. Heaven alone can show the birth-records of souls won to G.o.d all along the journeys of the "Singing Pilgrims," and the rich succession of Mr. Sankey's melodies, that can be traced back by a chain of causes to the poem that "wrote itself" and became a hymn. And the chain may not yet be complete. In the words of that providential poem--

Though they may forget the singer They will not forget the song.

Mrs. Ellen M.H. Gates, whose reputation as an author was made by this beautiful and always timely poem, was born in Torrington, Ct., and is the youngest sister of the late Collis P. Huntington. Her hymns--included in this volume and in other publications--are much admired and loved, both for their sweetness and elevated religious feeling, and for their poetic quality. Among her published books of verse are "Night," "At Noontide," and "Treasures of Kurium." Her address is New York City.

_THE TUNE._

Sidney Martin Grannis, author of the tune, was born Sept. 23, 1827, in Geneseo, Livingston county, N.Y. Lived in Leroy, of the same state, from 1831 to 1884, when he removed to Los Angeles, Cal., where several of his admirers presented him a cottage and grounds, which at last accounts he still occupies. Mr. Grannis won his first reputation as a popular musician by his song "Do They Miss Me at Home," and his "Only Waiting,"

"Cling to the Union," and "People Will Talk You Know," had an equally wide currency. As a solo singer his voice was remarkable, covering a range of two octaves, and while travelling with members of the "Amphion Troupe," to which he belonged, he sang at more than five thousand concerts. His tune to "Your Mission" was composed in New Haven, Ct., in 1864.

"TOO LATE! TOO LATE! YE CANNOT ENTER NOW."

"Too Late" is a thrilling fragment or side-song of Alfred Tennyson's, representing the vain plea of the five Foolish Virgins. Its tune bears the name of a London lady, "Miss Lindsay" (afterwards Mrs. J.

Worthington Bliss). The arrangement of air, duo and quartet is very impressive[20].

[Footnote 20: _Methodist Hymnal_, No. 743.]

"Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill: Late, late, so late! but we can enter still."

"Too late! too late! ye cannot enter now!"

"No light! so late! and dark and chill the night-- O let us in that we may find the light!"

"Too late! too late! ye cannot enter now!"

"Have we not heard the Bridegroom is so sweet?

O let us in that we may kiss his feet!"

"No, No--! too late! ye cannot enter now!"