[Footnote 36: Holbrook has also an arrangement of Franz Abt's, "When the Swallows Homeward Fly" written to "Jesus, Lover of my Soul," but with Wesley's words it is far less effective than his original work. "Refuge"

is not a manufacture but an inspiration.]

For general congregational use, Mason's "Whitman" has wedded itself to the hymn perhaps closer than any other. It has revival a.s.sociations reaching back more than sixty years.

"WHEN MARSHALLED ON THE NIGHTLY PLAIN."

Perhaps no line in all familiar hymnology more readily suggests the name of its author than this. In the galaxy of poets Henry Kirke White was a brief luminary whose brilliancy and whose early end have appealed to the hearts of three generations. He was born at Nottingham, Eng., in the year 1795. His father was a butcher, but the son, disliking the trade, was apprenticed to a weaver at the age of fourteen. Two years later he entered an attorney's office as copyist and student.

The boy imbibed sceptical notions from some source, and might have continued to scoff at religion to the last but for the experience of his intimate friend, a youth named Almond, whose life was changed by witnessing one day the happy death of a Christian believer. Decided to be a Christian himself, it was some time before he mustered courage to face White's ridicule and resentment. He simply drew away from him. When White demanded the reason he was obliged to tell him that they two must henceforth walk different paths.

"Good G.o.d!" exclaimed White, "you surely think worse of me than I deserve!"

The separation was a severe shock to Henry, and the real grief of it sobered his anger to reflection and remorse. The light of a better life came to him when his heart melted--and from that time he and Almond were fellows in faith as well as friendship.

In his hymn the young poet tells the stormy experience of his soul, and the vision that guided him to peace.

When, marshalled on the nightly plain, The glittering host bestud the sky, One star alone of all the train Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark, hark! to G.o.d the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem, But one alone the Saviour speaks; It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode: The storm was loud, the night was dark; The ocean yawned, and rudely blowed The wind that tossed my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze, Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem, When suddenly a star arose; It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all, It bade my dark forebodings cease; And through the storm and danger's thrall, It led me to the port of peace.

Now, safely moored, my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, For ever and for evermore, The Star, the Star of Bethlehem!

Besides this delightful hymn, with its graphic sea-faring metaphors, two others, at least, of the same boy-poet hold their place in many of the church and chapel collections:

The Lord our G.o.d is clothed with might, The winds obey His will; He speaks, and in his heavenly height The rolling sun stands still.

And--

Oft in danger, oft in woe, Onward, Christians, onward go.

Henry Kirke White died in the autumn of 1806, when he was scarcely twenty years old. His "Ode to Disappointment," and the miscellaneous flowers and fragments of his genius, make up a touching volume. The fire of a pure, strong spirit burning through a consumptive frame is in them all.

_THE TUNE._

"When, marshalled on the mighty plain" has a choral set to it in the _Methodist Hymnal_--credited to Thos. Harris, and ent.i.tled "Crimea"--which divides the three stanzas into six, and breaks the continuity of the hymn. Better sing it in its original form--long metre double--to the dear old melody of "Bonny Doon." The voices of Scotland, England and America are blended in it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: William B. Bradbury]

The origin of this Caledonian air, though sometimes fancifully traced to an Irish harper and sometimes to a wandering piper of the Isle of Man, is probably lost in antiquity. Burns, however, whose name is linked with it, tells this whimsical story of it, though giving no date save "a good many years ago,"--(apparently about 1753). A virtuoso, Mr. James Millar, he writes, wishing he were able to compose a Scottish tune, was told by a musical friend to sit down to his harpsichord and make a rhythm of some kind _solely on the black keys_, and he would surely turn out a Scotch tune. The musical friend, pleased at the result of his jest, caught the string of plaintive sounds made by Millar, and fashioned it into "Bonny Doon."

"LAND AHEAD!"

The burden of this hymn was suggested by the dying words of John Adams, one of the crew of the English ship Bounty who in 1789 mutinied, set the captain and officers adrift, and ran the vessel to a tropical island, where they burned her. In a few years vice and violence had decimated the wicked crew, who had exempted themselves from all divine and human restraint, until the last man alive was left with only native women and half-breed children for company. His true name was Alexander Smith, but he had changed it to John Adams.

The situation forced the lonely Englishman to a sense of solemn responsibility, and in bitter remorse, he sought to retrieve his wasted life, and spend the rest of his exile in repentance and repentant works.

He found a Bible in one of the dead seamen's chests, studied it, and organized a community on the Christian plan. A new generation grew up around him, reverencing him as governor, teacher, preacher and judge, and speaking his language--and he was wise enough to exercise his authority for the common good, and never abuse it. Pitcairn's Island became "the Paradise of the Pacific." It has not yet belied its name.

Besides its opulence of rural beauty and natural products, its inhabitants, now the third generation from the "mutineer missionary,"

are a civilized community without the vices of civilization. There is no licentiousness, no profanity, no Sabbath-breaking, no rum or tobacco--and _no sickness_.

John Adams died in 1829--after an island residence of forty years. In his extreme age, while he lay waiting for the end, he was asked how he felt in view of the final voyage.

"Land ahead!" murmured the old sailor--and his last words were, "Rounding the Cape--into the harbor."

That the veteran's death-song should be perpetuated in sacred music is not strange.

Land ahead! its fruits are waving O'er the hills of fadeless green; And the living waters laving Sh.o.r.es where heavenly forms are seen.

CHORUS.

Rocks and storms I'll fear no more, When on that eternal sh.o.r.e; Drop the anchor! furl the sail!

I am safe within the veil.

Onward, bark! the cape I'm rounding; See, the blessed wave their hands; Hear the harps of G.o.d resounding From the bright immortal bands.

The authorship of the hymn is credited to Rev. E. Adams--whether or not a descendent of the Island Patriarch we have no information. It was written about 1869.

The ringing melody that bears the words was composed by John Miller Evans, born Nov. 30, 1825; died Jan. 1, 1892. The original air--with a simple accompaniment--was harmonized by Hubert P. Main, and published in _Winnowed Hymns_ in 1873.

"ETERNAL FATHER, STRONG TO SAVE."

This is sung almost universally on English ships. It is said to have been one of Sir Evelyn Wood's favorites. The late William Whiting wrote it in 1860, and it was incorporated with some alterations in the standard English Church collection ent.i.tled _Hymns Ancient and Modern_.

It is a translation from a Latin hymn, a triune litany addressing a stanza each to Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The whole four stanzas have the same refrain, and the appeal to the Father, who bids--

--the mighty ocean deep Its own appointed limits keep,

--varies in the appeal to Christ, who--

--_walked_ upon the foaming deep.

The third and fourth stanzas are the following:

O Holy Spirit, Who didst brood Upon the waters dark and rude, And bid their angry tumult cease, And give, for wild confusion, peace; Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee For those in peril on the sea.

O Trinity of love and power, Our brethren shield in danger's hour; From rock and tempest, fire and foe, Protect them wheresoe'er they go: Thus evermore shall rise to Thee Glad hymns of praise from land to sea.

William Whiting was born at Kensington, London, Nov. 1, 1825. He was Master of Winchester College Chorister's School Died in 1878.

_THE TUNE._

The choral named "Melita" (in memory of St. Paul's shipwreck) was composed by Dr. d.y.k.es in 1861, and its strong and easy chords and moderate note range are n.o.bly suited to the devout hymn.