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"LET THE LOWER LIGHTS BE BURNING!”

An illustration, recited in Mr. Moody's graphic fashion in one of his discourses, suggested this hymn to P. P. Bliss.

“A stormy night on Lake Erie, and the sky pitch dark.”

Pilot, are you sure this is Cleveland ? There's only one light.'

Quite sure, Cap’n.' 'Where are the lower lights ?' ‘Gone out, sir.' 'Can you run in ?'

We've got to, Cap'n-or die.' “The brave old pilot did his best, but, alas, he missed the channel. The boat was wrecked, with a loss of many lives. The lower lights had gone out.

“Brethren, the Master will take care of the great Lighthouse. It is our work to keep the lower lights burning!"

Brightly beams our Father's mercy

From His lighthouse evermore;
But to us He gives the keeping
Of the lights along the shore.

CHORUS.
Let the lower lights be burning!

Send a gleam across the wave;
Some poor fainting, struggling seaman

You may rescue, you may save. Both words and music-composed in 1871– are by Mr. Bliss. There are wakening chords in

the tune—and especially the chorus—when the counterpoint is well vocalized; and the effect is more pronounced the greater the symphony of voices. Congregations find a zest in every note. “Hold the Fort" can be sung in the street. “Let the Lower Lights be Burning" is at home between echoing walls.

The use of the song in “Bethel” meetings classes it with sailors' hymns.

“SWEET HOUR OF PRAYER."

Included with the Gospel Hymns, but of older date. Rev. William W. Walford, a blind English minister, was the author, and it was probably written about the year 1842. It was recited to

Thomas Salmon, Congregational pastor at Coleshill, Eng., who took it down and brought it to New York, where it was published in the New York Observer.

Little is known of Mr. Walford save that in his blindness, besides preaching occasionally, he employed his mechanical skill in making small useful articles of bone and ivory.

The tune was composed by W. B. Bradbury in 1859, and first appeared with the hymn in Cottage Melodies.

Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer
That calls me from a world of care,
And bids me at my Father's throne
Make all my wants and wishes known.

In seasons of distress and grief
My soul has often found relief,
And oft escaped the tempter's snare
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer.

"O BLISS OF THE PURIFIED! BLISS OF THE FREE!”

Rev. Francis Bottome, D.D., born in Belper, Derbyshire, Eng., May 26, 1823, removed to the United States in 1850, and entered the Methodist ministry. A man of sterling character and exemplary piety. He received the degree of Doctor of Divinity at Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pa. Was assistant compiler of several singing books, and wrote original hymns. The above, entitled “O sing of His mighty love”was composed by him in 1869. The last stanza reads,

O Jesus the Crucified! Thee will I sing,
My blessed Redeemer, my God and my King!
My soul, filled with rapture shall shout o'er the grave
And triumph in death in the Mighty to save.

CHORUS.
O sing of His mighty love (ter)

Mighty to save!

Dr. Bottome returned to England, and died at Tavistock June 29, 1894.

THE TUNE.

Bradbury's “Songs of the Beautiful” (in Fresh Laurels). The hymn was set to this chorus in 1871.

434

STORY OF THE HYMNS AND TUNES.

STORY OF THE HYMNS AND TUNES.

“WHAT SHALL THE HARVEST BE?”

Very popular in England. Mr. Sankey in his Story of the Gospel Hymns relates at length the experience of Rev. W. O. Lattimore, pastor of a large church in Evanston, Ill., who was saved to Christian manhood and usefulness by this hymn. It has suffered some alterations, but its original composition was Mrs. Emily Oakey's work. The Parables of the Sower and of the Tares may have been in her mind when she wrote the lines in 1850, but more probably it was the text in Gal. 6:7–

Sowing the seed by the daylight fair,
Sowing the seed by the noonday glare,
Sowing the seed by the fading light,
Sowing the seed in the solemn night.

O, what shall the harvest be? Lattimore, the man whose history was so strangely linked with this hymn, entered the army in 1861, a youth of eighteen with no vices, but when promoted to first lieutenant he learned to drink in the officers' mess. The habit so contracted grew upon him till when the war was over, though he married and tried to lead a sober life, he fell a victim to his appetite, and became a physical wreck. One day in the winter of 1876 he found himself in a halfdrunken condition, in the gallery of Moody's Tabernacle, Chicago. Discovering presently that he had made a mistake, he rose to go out, but Mr. Sankey's voice chained him. He sat down and heard the whole of the thrilling hymn from beginning to end. Then he stumbled out with the words ringing in his ears.

Sowing the seed of a lingering pain,
Sowing the seed of a maddened brain,
Sowing the seed of a tarnished name,
Sowing the seed of Eternal shame.

O, what shall the harvest be? In the saloon, where he went to drown the awakenings of remorse, those words stood in blazing letters on every bottle and glass. The voice of God in that terrible song of conviction forced him back to the Tabernacle, with his drink untasted. He went into the inquiry meeting where he found friends, and was led to Christ. His wife and child, from whom he had long been exiled, were sent for and work was found for him to do. A natural eloquence made him an attractive and efficient helper in the meetings, and he was finally persuaded to study for the ministry. His faithful pastorate of twenty years in Evanston ended with his death in 1899.

Mrs. Emily Sullivan Oakey was an author and linguist by profession, and though in her life of nearly fifty-four years she “never enjoyed a day of good health,” she earned a grateful memory. Born in Albany, N.Y., Oct. 8, 1829, she was educated at the Albany Female Academy, and fitted herself for the position of teacher of languages and English literature in the same school, which she honored by her service while she lived. Her contributions to the daily press and to magazine literature were

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