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Who hath ripened the fruits into golden and red?
Who hath grown in the valleys our treasures of bread,
That the owner might heap, and the stranger might glean
For the days when the cold of the winter is keen?

Harvest home!

Let us chant, etc.

For the smile of the sunshine, again and again,
For the dew on the garden, the showers on the plain,
For the year, with its hope and its promise that end,
Crowned with plenty and peace, let thanksgiving ascend,
Harvest home!

Let us chant, etc.

We shall gather a harvest of glory, we know,
From the furrows of life where in patience we sow.
Buried love in the field of the heart never dies,
And its seed scattered here will be sheaves in the skies,
Harvest home!

Let us chant, etc.

Thanksgiving Hymn. Boston, 1890. Theron

Brown.

Tune "To the Work, To the Work." W. H. Doane.

"THE GOD OF HARVEST PRAISE."

Written by James Montgomery in 1840, and published in the Evangelical Magazine as the Harvest Hymn for that year.

The God of harvest praise;
In loud thanksgiving raise
Heart, hand and voice.
The valleys smile and sing,
Forests and mountains sing,
The plains their tribute bring,

The streams rejoice.

The God of harvest praise;
Hearts, hands and voices raise

With sweet accord;

From field to garner throng,

Bearing your sheaves along,

And in your harvest song
ye the Lord.

Bless

Tune, "Dort"-Lowell Mason.

MORNING.

"STILL, STILL WITH THEE."

These stanzas of Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, with their poetic beauty and grateful religious spirit, have furnished an orison worthy of a place in all the hymn books. In feeling and in faith the hymn is a matin song for the world, supplying words and thoughts to any and every heart that worships.

Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,
When the bird waketh and the shadows flee;

Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight,

Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.

Alone with Thee, amid the mystic shadows
The solemn hush of nature newly born;
Alone with Thee, in breathless adoration,

In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.

When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
Its closing eyes look up to Thee in prayer,
Sweet the repose beneath Thy wings o'ershadowing,
But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there

THE TUNES.

Barnby's "Windsor," and "Stowe" by Charles H. Morse (1893)-both written to the words. Mendelssohn's "Consolation" is a classic interpretation of the hymn, and finely impressive when skillfully sung, but simpler-and sweeter to the popular ear-is Mason's "Henley," written to Mrs. Eslings'

"Come unto me when shadows darkly gather."

EVENING HYMNS.

John Keble's beautiful meditation—
Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear;

John Leland's

The day is past and gone;

and Phebe Brown's

I love to steal awhile away;

-have already been noticed. Bishop Doane's gentle and spiritual lines express nearly everything that a worshipping soul would include in a moment of evening thought. The first and last stanzas are the ones most commonly sung.

Softly now the light of day
Fades upon my sight away:
Free from care, from labor free,

Lord I would commune with Thee.

* ****

Soon for me the light of day

Shall forever pass away;

Then, from sin and sorrow free,

Take me, Lord, to dwell with Thee.

THE TUNE.

Both Kozeluck and J. E. Gould, besides Louis M. Gottschalk and Dr. Henry John Gauntlett, have tried their skill in fitting music to this hymn, but only Gottschalk and Kozeluck approach the mood into which its quiet words charm a pious and reflective mind. Possibly its frequent association with "Holley," composed by George Hews, may influence a hearer's judgement of other melodies but there is something in that tune that makes it cling to the hymn as if by instinctive kinship.

Others may have as much or more artistic music but "Holley" in its soft modulations seems to breathe the spirit of every word.

It was this tune to which a stranger recently heard a group of mill-girls singing Bishop Doane's verses. The lady, a well-known Christian worker, visited a certain factory, and the superintendent, after showing her through the building, opened a door into a long work-room, where the singing of the

girls delighted and surprised her. It was sunset, and their hymn was—

Softly now the light of day.

Several of the girls were Sunday-school teachers, who had encouraged others to sing at that hour, and it had become a habit.

"Has it made a difference?" the lady inquired. "There is seldom any quarrelling or coarse joking among them now," said the superintendent with a smile.

Dr. S. F. Smith's hymn of much the same tone and tenor

Softly fades the twilight ray

Of the holy Sabbath day,

--is commonly sung to the tune of "Holley." George Hews, an American composer and pianomaker, was born in Massachusetts 1800, and died July 6, 1873. No intelligence of him or his work or former locality is at hand, beyond this brief note in Baptie, "He is believed to have followed his trade in Boston, and written music for some of Mason's earlier books.

DEDICATION.

"CHRIST IS OUR CORNER-STONE.”

This reproduces in Chandler's translation a songservice in an ancient Latin liturgy (angulare fundamentum).

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