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--and with all its solemnity and other-worldness it is dear to recollection, and its five stanzas are lovingly hunted up in the few hymnals where it is found. Bradbury's “Braden,” (Baptist Praise Book, 1873,) is one of its tunes.

Elder Leland was a remarkable revival preacher, and his prayers—as was said of Elder Jabez Swan's fifty or sixty years later-"brought heaven and earth together.” He traveled through the Eastern States as an evangelist, and spent a season in Virginia in the same work. In 1801 he revisited that region on a curious errand. The farmers of Cheshire, Mass., where Leland was then a settled pastor, conceived the plan of sending "the biggest cheese in America” to President Jefferson, and Leland (who was a good democrat) offered to go to Washington on an ox-team with it, and “preach all the way”—which he actually did.

The cheese weighed 1450 lbs.

Elder Leland died in North Adams, Mass., Jan. 14, 1844. Another of his hymns, which deserved to live with his “Evening Song," seemed to be answered in the brightness of his death-bed hope:

O when shall I see Jesus

And reign with Him above,
And from that flowing fountain

Drink everlasting love?

“AWAKE, MY SOUL, TO JOYFUL LAYS.” This glad hymn of Samuel Medley is his thanksgiving song, written soon after his conversion. In the places, of rural worship no lay of Christian praise and gratitude was ever more heartily sung than this at the testimony meetings.

Awake, my soul, to joyful lays,
And sing thy great Redeemer's praise;
He justly claims a song from me:
His loving-kindness, oh, how free!
Loving-kindness, loving-kindness,
His loving-kindness, oh, how freel

THE TUNE, With its queer curvet in every second line, had no other name than “Loving-Kindness," and was probably a camp-meeting melody in use for some time before its publication. It is found in Leavitt's Christian Lyre as early as 1830. The name “William Caldwell” is all that is known of its composer, though he is supposed to have lived in Tennessee.


Was a common old-time piece sure to be heard at every religious rally, and every one present, saint and sinner, had it by heart, or at least the chorus of it

Amen, amen, my soul replies,
I'm bound to meet you in the skies,

And claim my mansion there, etc. The anonymous* “Garden Hymn, as old, at *A "Rev.” Mr. Campbell, author of "The Glorious Light of Zion,” “There is a Holy City," and “There is a Land of Pleasure," has been sometimes credited with the origin of the Garden Hymn.

least, as 1800," has nearly passed out of reach, except by the long arm of the antiquary; but it served its generation.

Its vigorous tune is credited to Jeremiah Ingalls (1764-1838).

The Lord into His garden comes;
The spices yield a rich perfume,

The lilies grow and thrive,

The lilies grow and thrive.
Refreshing showers of grace divine
From Jesus flow to every vine,

Which makes the dead revive,
Which makes the dead revive.


Henry Hart Milman, generally known as Dean Milman, was born in 1791, and was educated at Oxford. In 1821 he was installed as university professor of poetry at Oxford, and it was while filling this position that he wrote this celebrated hymn, under the title of “The Last Day." It is not only a hymn, but a poem-a sublime ode that recalls, in a different movement, the tones of the “Dies Irae.”

Dean Milman (of St Paul's), besides his many striking poems and learned historical works, wrote at least twelve hymns, among which are

Ride on, ride on in majesty,
O help us Lord; each hour of need

Thy heavenly succor give,
When our heads are bowed with woe,

-which last may have been written soon after he laid three of his children in one grave, in the north aisle of Westminister Abbey. He lived a laborious and useful life of seventy-seven years, dying Sept. 24, 1868.

There were times in the old revivals when the silver clarion of the “Chariot Hymn" must needs replace the ruder blast of Occum in old “Ganges" and sinners unmoved by the invisible God of Horeb be made to behold Him- in a vision of the “Last Day."

The Chariot! the Chariot! its wheels roll in fire
When the Lord cometh down in the pomp of His ire,
Lo, self-moving, it drives on its pathway of cloud,
And the heavens with the burden of Godhead are bowed.

The Judgment the Judgmentl the thrones are all set,
Where the Lamb and the white-vested elders are met;
There all flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord,
And the doom of eternity hangs on His word.

The name "Williams” or“J.Williams” is attached to various editions of the trumpet-like tune, but so far no guide book gives us location, date or sketch of the composer.

"COME, MY BRETHREN.” Another of the “unstudied” revival hymns of invitation.

Come, my brethren, let us try

For a little season
Every burden to lay by,

Come and let us reason.

What is this that casts you down,

What is this that grieves you ?
Speak and let your wants be known;

Speaking may relieve you. This colloquial rhyme was apt to be started by some good brother or sister in one of the chilly pauses of a prayer-meeting. The air (there was never anything more to it) with a range of only a fifth, slurred the last syllable of every second line, giving the quaint effect of a bent note, and al. together the music was as homely as the verse. Both are anonymous. But the little chant sometimes served its purpose wonderfully well.


This hymn was always welcome in the cottage meetings as well as in the larger greenwood assemblies. It was written by Rev. Joseph Swain, about 1783.

Brethren, while we sojourn here
Fight we must, but should not fear.
Foes we have, but we've a Friend,
One who loves us to the end;
Forward then with courage go;
Long we shall not dwell below,
Soon the joyful news will come,

“Child, your Father calls, 'Come home."" The tune was sometimes "Pleyel's Hymn," but oftener it was sung to a melody now generally forgotten of much the same movement but slurred in peculiarly sweet and tender turns. The cadence

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