Incidents of Hymns

The most enduring hymns are born in the silences of the soul, and nothing must be allowed to intrude while they are being framed into language. Some of the sweetest melodies of the heart never see the light of the printed page. Sometimes the song without words has a deeper meaning than the more elaborate combinations of words and music. But in the majority of instances these two must be joined in marriage; and unless they are mutually complementary the resulting hymn will not please. The mere fitting of words to a melody is by no means all that is necessary; it must be so well done as to have the effect of having been written especially for that melody. The poet, therefore, must put into metrical form his thoughts, aspirations and emotions, in such a manner that the composer of the music may readily grasp the spirit of the poem and compose notes that will perfect the expression of the poet’s meaning. And a similar harmony of thought must exist between the composer of the melody and the poet when the music is written first.

That some of my hymns have been dictated by the blessed Holy Spirit I have no doubt; and that others have been the result of deep meditation I know to be true; but that the poet has any right to claim special merit for himself is certainly presumptuous. I have sometimes felt that there was a deep and clear well of inspiration from which one may draw the sparkling draughts that are so essential to good poetry. At times the burden of inspiration is so heavy that the author himself cannot find words beautiful enough, or thoughts deep enough, for its expression.

Most of my poems have been written during the long night watches, when the distractions of the day could not interfere with the rapid flow of thought. It has beea my custom to hold a little book in my hand; and somehow or other the words seem to come more promptly when I am so engaged. I can also remember more accurately when the little volume is in my grasp. Many people, noting this peculiar custom, have asked some queer questions about it; and not a few fancy that I may indeed be able to see what is printed there. Sometimes a hymn comes to me by stanzas and needs only to be written down, but I never have any portion of a poem committed to paper until the entire poem is composed; then there is often much pruning and revising necessary before it is really finished. Some poems, it is true, come as a complete whole, and need no revision — indeed the best seem to come that way — but the great majority do not. “Safe in the Arms of Jesus” was composed and written in less than thirty minutes; but I have often spent three or four hours on half as many lines, and then cast them aside as worthless.

In composing hymn-poems there are several ways cf working. Often subjects are given to me to which melodies must be adapted. At other times the melody is played for me and I think of various subjects appropriate to the music. In a successful song words and music must harmonize, not only in number of syllables, but in subject matter and especially accent. In nine cases out of ten the success of a hymn depends directly upon these qualities. Thus, melodies tell their own tale, and it is the purpose of the poet to interpret this musical story into language. Not infrequently a composer asks, “What does that melody say to you?” And if it says nothing to you the probability is that your words will not agree with the music when an attempt is made to join them. “Blessed Assurance” was written to a melody composed by my friend, Mrs. Joseph F. Knapp; she played it over once or twice on the piano and then asked me what it said to me. I replied,

“Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine,
O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His spirit, washed in His blood:
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Saviour all the day long.”

The hymn thus written seemed to express the experience of both Mrs. Knapp and myself.

Generally, when a melody is given, I choose my own subject. Sometimes the melody suggests the subject at once; if it does not I lay it aside until another time. Sometimes the words to the melody come to me faster than I can remember them. One evening, for instance,

Mr. Sankey played a sweet air. I excused myself and went to my room to compose the words to “O My Redeemer.” In this way I wrote “I Am Thine, O Lord” to a melody written by Mr. Doane; and “When My Life Work Is Ended” to one written by Mr. Sweney.

Among the great number of hymns that I have written — eight thousand perhaps — it is not always possible for me to remember even the best of them. For this reason I have made laughable mistakes. One morning, for example, at Northfield the audience sang “Hide Me, O My Saviour, Hide Me.” But I did not recognize this hymn as my own production; and therefore I may be pardoned for saying that I was much pleased with it. Turning to Mr. Sankey, I asked, “Where did you get that piece?” He paid no particular attention to my question, for he supposed I was merely joking; and at that moment the bell called us to dinner, — so both of us forgot about the hymn. But it was again used at the afternoon service; and then I was determined to know who wrote it.

“Mr. Sankey,” I said, “Now you must tell me who is the author of ‘Hide Me, O My Saviour.’”

“Really,” he replied, “don’t you recall who wrote that hymn? You ought to remember, for you are the guilty one.”

A large number of my hymns have gone out into the world bearing noms-de-plume; and hundreds are yet to be set to notes; but enough have already been published to make me wish to avoid so many credits for authorship; hence the long list of pseudonymns that

I have adopted. According to Mr. Hubert P. Main, who collected them all, this list reached almost the hundred mark; many of the names, however, were used once or twice, or at most only for a single book; and a large number of initials have been used, especially in early collections. Some of the most frequently used pen-names are James Apple, Mrs. A. E. Andrews, Rose Atherton, James Black, Henrietta E. Blair, Florence Booth, Charles Bruce, Robert Bruce, Leah Carlton, Lyman Cuyler, Ella Dale, Li?zie Edwards, James Eliott, Grace J. Frances, Rian J. Frances, Victoria Frances, Jennie Garnet, Jenie Glen, Frank Gould, Mrs. Kate Grinley, Ruth Harmon, Frances Hope, Martha J. Lankton, W. Robert Lindsay, Sally Martin, Sam Martin, Maud Marion, Alice Monteith, Sally Smith, Sam Smith, Victoria Stewart, Victoria Sterling, Rian J. Sterling, Julia Sterling and Mrs. C. M. Wilson.

The hymn “O Child of God, Wait Patiently” came into being at Northfield. Mr. Sankey played a pretty air and said,

“Why not write a poem for this tonight?” But the spirit of poetry was not with me that evening; and so I replied,

“No, I cannot at present; for I have few ideas and they are not poetic.” The following morning Mr. and Mrs. Sankey were going for a drive, and they expected that I would go with them; but, to their astonishment, I said,

“Please excuse me today; as I have something else I wish to do.” A few minutes after they left a number of students came in; and we had a very pleasant chat. Something that one of them said touched my heart; and after they went away I sat down at the piano; played Mr. Sankey’s melody once or twice; and then the words of the hymn came in regular order as they now stand:

“O child of God, wait patiently

When dark thy path may be,
And let thy faith lean trustingly

On Him who cares for thee;
And though the clouds hang drearily

Upon the brow of night;
Yet in the morning joy will come,

And fill thy soul with light.”

While the great majority of my hymns seemed to be the result of some passing mood, or of some deep, though intangible feeling, whose expression demanded the language of poetry, quite a number were called into being in response to a definite event in my own life. “Hold Thou My Hand,” for which Hubert P. Main wrote the music, belongs to this class. For a number of days before I wrote this hymn, all had seemed dark to me. That was indeed an unusual experience, for I have always been most cheerful; and so in my human weakness I cried in prayer, “Dear Lord, hold Thou my hand.” Almost at once the sweet peace that comes of perfect assurance returned to my heart, and my gratitude for this evidence of answered prayer sang itself in the lines of the hymn, “Hold Thou my hand, so weak I am and helpless, I dare not take one step without Thy aid; Hold Thou my hand, for then, O loving Saviour No dread of ill shall make my soul afraid.”

After the death of the great Charles Spurgeon his wife wrote for a copy of this poem and said she had found comfort from hearing it sung.

Once while on a visit to William J. Kirkpa trick some of us were talking of how soon we grow weary of earthly pleasures, however bright they may be.

“Well” remarked the professor, “we are never weary of the grand old song.”

“No,” I replied, “but what comes next?” He hesitated and I said, “Why, glory to God, hallelujah.” Mr. Kirkpatrick sang an appropriate melody and I wrote the hymn,

“We are never, never weary of the grand old song, Glory to God, hallelujah! We can sing it in the Spirit as we march along, Glory to God, hallelujah!”

Besides this I have written hundreds of hymns for Mr. Kirkpatrick, many of which have been very popular, and are still being sung in all quarters of the Christian world. One day he played a beautiful melody and said, “Now let us have a regular shouting Methodist hymn,” and I composed the hymn “Fro So Glad,” the chorus of which is, “I’m so glad, I’m so glad, I’m so glad that Jesus came, He came to save me.”

“Speed Away, Speed Away, on your Mission of Light” was written after hearing the beautiful Indian melody which Mr. Sankey arranged for my words. The original Indian poem told the story of a young maiden who died leaving her father to mourn her untimely loss, and how he was comforted by a message brought him by a bird she had sent from the Happy Hunting Grounds. This melody seemed so beautiful that we thought it ought to have hymn-words and “Speed Away” was the outcome of this feeling. I wrote it hoping that it might inspire someone to go into the mission fields across the sea.

One day Mr. Doane played the air to “We Shall Reach the Summer Land,” and we thought it best to wait for an appropriate subject. A few days later a telegram came announcing the death of a friend; and I wrote a hymn to his music for the bereaved family. “No Sorrow There” was also written under similar circumstances. “God Leadeth” was inspired by the sympathy I felt with a friend in his struggles, and a number of hymns have been written after conversing with friends concerning various phases of Christian experience. “Press Toward the Mark” was inspired by a watch-night address by Dr. Theodore L. Cuyler and the music was composed by Miss Upham.

“Jesus, My All” was written as early as 1866. Some-

one was singing the air to the old Scotch song “Robin Adair,” and I remarked how beautiful it was. Henry Brown said, “I challenge you to write a hymn to that melody.” I immediately wrote the words following,

“Lord, at Thy mercy-seat,

Humbly I fall,
Pleading Thy promise sweet,

Lord hear my call;
Now let Thy work begin,

Oh, make me pure within,
Cleanse me from every sin,

Jesus, my all.”

Another of the hymns written during Mr. Bradbury’s life is, “Good Night Until We Meet in the Morning.” One afternoon a little party of us, including Philip Phillips, William B. Bradbury, Sylvester Main, Harry Brown and myself, were talking about various things, and when we came to separate Mr. Phillips said,

“Good night until we meet in the morning.”

The idea caught my fancy at once; and I said to Mr. Bradbury,

“If I write a hymn for that subject, will you compose the music?” He said that he would; and the words were written that same evening. Other hymns written before 1868 are “The Prodigal’s Return,” “Let the Good Angels Come In,” “Lord, Abide with Me,” “Welcome Hour of Prayer” and “Our Loved Ones Gone Before.”

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On April 30, 1868, Dr. W. H. Doane came into my house, and said,

“I have exactly forty minutes before my train leaves for Cincinnati. Here is a melody. Can you write words for it?” I replied that I would see what I could do. Then followed a space of twenty minutes during which I was wholly unconscious of all else except the work I was doing. At the end of that time I recited the words to “Safe in the Arms of Jesus.” Mr. Doane copied them, and had time to catch his train.

There are a great many beautiful stories connected with this hymn. Ira D. Sankey related a conversation with a simple Scotch woman who came to him after a great meeting.

“I want to thank you for writing ‘Safe in the Arms of Jesus,’” she said.

“My daughter was very fond of it and sang it as she passed to the life beyond.”

“But,” replied the evangelist, “I did not write the hymn. Fanny Crosby wrote the words and W. H. Doane the music. Sit down, my good woman, and I will tell you about it.” A look of disappointment passed over the dear woman’s face; but as she listened to Mr. Sankey’s story her countenance again lighted up and she said,

“When ye gang back to America tell Fanny Crosby that an auld Scots woman sends her blessing and her love.”

The late Dr. John Hall used to tell a touching story of “Safe in the Arms of Jesus.” He went to see the little daughter of one of his congregation; and her father came downstairs in tears.

“My dear friend,” asked the clergyman, “what is the trouble? Has the little girl gone home?”

“No,” replied the father, “but she has asked me to do something that I cannot do; anything that wealth might buy she may have, but I cannot sing ‘Safe in the Arms of Jesus’; for I never sang a note in my life.”

“Oh,” said Dr. Hall, “I will go up and sing it for her.” When he reached the last two lines of the hymn

“Wait till I see the morning
Break on the golden shore,”

the spirit of the child passed to that land where all shall sing the melodies of Zion.

Another incident of the singing of “Safe in the Arms of Jesus” was related by a sea captain, who was in the habit of holding services on board his vessel. From Sabbath to Sabbath he noticed that there was a certain man who did not unite with the others when they sang that hymn. At last he approached the sailor and inquired if he did not enjoy the meetings.

“Oh, yes,” the latter replied, “but I am not ‘Safe in the arms of Jesus’; and I cannot sing that hymn.” The captain prayed with him, and as a direct result of the interview, ere the next Sabbath, the sailor was singing the piece with the rest.

1 On one occasion as Mr. Doane and I were travelling from Cincinnati to New York he composed a melody which he whistled to me, and suggested that I compose the words to accompany it. I told him I would, and in a short time I wrote the hymn beginning,

“Jesus, I love Thee, Thou art to me
Dearer than mortal ever can be.”

This hymn was published in a book called “The Diadem” and copied into an English song collection. A few years later Mr. Doane received a letter from England, written at the request of a dying woman by her pastor. She had been brought under conviction by the singing of our hymn; had given herself to the Lord; and before her death had been the means of leading over twenty souls into the light. Some years after this Mr. Doane attended a large meeting at Vernon, Ohio; and after the service a man came to him and asked,

“Do you remember receiving a letter from a gentleman in England concerning a lady’s conversion after hearing ‘Jesus, I Love Thee?’ Well, I am the one who wrote the letter.” Mr. Doane told me the meeting seemed providential.

Some years after the writing of “Jesus, I Love Thee” Mr. Stebbins came to me and said,

“I think I have something both of us will enjoy. I have a melody here, and would like to have you write the words for it while we are together.” He played it over for me and I was pleased with the tune and wrote “They Tell Us of a Land So Fair.” Mr. Stebbins also wrote the music to “Jesus is Calling,” “No Sorrow There,” “The Day Star Hath Risen,” “O Sing of My Redeemer,” and many others.

“Victory Through Grace” was written under the following circumstances: Mr. Sweney sent me the title and asked me to write a sort of a battle piece. A day or two later he came to see me. I told him I had already begun the hymn; and repeated as much as I had finished. “Go on,” he said, “that is right; we’ll have our battle song.” The remainder of the hymn was written while he was at my house. Mr. Sweney also wrote the music to “Only a Beam of Sunshine,” “The Saviour Precious” and “Sing On,” and scores of others.

It was a cold, rainy day, and everything had gone wrong with me during the morning. I realized that the fault was mine; but that did not help the matter. About noon the sky began to be clear; and a friend standing near me said, “There is only a beam of sunshine, but, oh, it is warm and bright”; and, on the impulse of the moment, I wrote the hymn,

“Only a beam of sunshine, but, oh, it was warm and bright, The heart of a weary traveller was cheered by its welcome light.”

“Now Just a Word for Jesus” was written with the idea of influencing people at prayer meetings to give their testimonies and to give them promptly. One day someone was talking about wealth; and he said, “If I had wealth I would be able to do just what I wish to do; and I would be able to make an appearance in the world.” I replied, “Take the world, but give me Jesus.” This remark led me to write the hymn having that title.

On one occasion Mr. Kirkpatrick had been at my home; and as he was going away I said,

“Oh, dear, it’s nothing but meeting and parting in this world, is it?” He replied,

“Well, I will not say as Bliss did ‘meet me at the fountain,’ but I will say, ‘where the tree of life is blooming, meet me there.’” Not long afterward I wrote the hymn entitled “Meet Me There.”

“I Am Satisfied” was written during the summer of 1902 while I was visiting Dr. William H. Doane. One morning I received a telegram announcing the death of a very dear friend; and it occurred to me that under the circumstances it would be well for me to occupy my mind by writing as many hymns as I could. I accordingly secluded myself where I could hear the music of Old Ocean, and wrote “I Am Satisfied.”

Mr. Sylvester Main was a little depressed one day, and I said that if we were always at peace with God these trials would not annoy us as they do now.

“No,” he replied, “and I very often have to exclaim, ‘Lord abide with me’”; and his remark inspired me to write the hymn bearing this title.

“Valley of Eden, Beyond the Sea” is one of my hymns of which I have erred concerning the authorship. On one occasion I heard a lady singing it, and I rushed downstairs, exclaiming,

“Where did you get that beautiful melody and words?” “Well,” she replied, “Mr. Kirkpatrick wrote the melody.”

“But,” I said, “who wrote those words?” She replied, “Someone who is in the habit of writing for him.” Even then I did not recognize my own words ,• and she finally said that she would sing the hymn once more, which she did; and to my embarrassment I remembered writing it.

Dr. Lowry gave me the subject to “The bright Forever” and I tried for two days to write the hymn. Then all at once, almost in a twinkling, the words came stanza by stanza as fast as I could memorize them. Hubert P. Main wrote the music, which has done so much to popularize the hymn. He also wrote the notes for “Hold Thou My Hand” (in 1874) “Blessed Homeland,” “Yes, There is Pardon for You,” and other hymns.

“Blessed Assurance” was written in 1873. The music was composed by Mrs. Joseph F. Knapp, who became known to me as early as 1868, and who has also written the notes to several hymns of mine, including “Nearer The Cross,” and “Open the Gates of the Temple.” An English religious weekly gives the following account of how soldiers use “God Be With You” and “Blessed Assurance” for passwords. When one member of the Soldiers’ Christian Association meets a comrade he says “494” which is the number of “God Be With You Till We Meet Again” in “Sacred Songs and Solos”; the latter replies “6 farther on,” that is 500, which is the number cf “Blessed Assurance.” Of this custom the secretary of the Association writes, “These hymns are constantly being used by our members as greeting and response; and I do not think any member of the Soldiers’ Christian Association ever writes without putting them somewhere on the letter or envelope. I have had dozens of letters from South Africa alone; and in my visits to garrisons and soldiers’ homes no meeting is considered closed until ‘God Be With You’ has been

sung.”

In one of Mr. Sankey’s meetings a man came forward and requested that someone offer a prayer for him. He appeared to be deeply distressed in spirit; and when they said that he might come again the next night, he cried earnestly,

“No, it must be settled tonight; for tomorrow may be too late.” They listened to his appeal, and before he left the church he felt that he was saved. The next day there was an explosion in the mine where he worked, and he was among the slain. This story was related to me by Mr. Sankey and I wrote the hymn “Shall I Be Saved Tonight?”

“Saw Ye Not the Promised Day?” a missionary hymn, to which William F. Sherwin wrote the music, was inspired by a remark that the day of the Lord was coming.

“Pass Me Not, O Gentle Saviour”(1868) was written not long after the hymn “More Like Jesus,” the incident relating to which has already been told. A number of stories have been called forth by the singing of that hymn; and perhaps the best of these is the following: In a Western state lived an old man who was in the habit of going fishing on Sunday afternoons. Near the pond was a small school house in which was held a Sabbath school. Frequently they used to sing “Pass Me Not” during the afternoon service; and for some reason, he knew not why, the old man could not forget that melody. One day he could resist no longer; he threw down his fishing rod, and went up to the school house. They invited him into the Sunday school; but he said,

“No, I cannot go in today; for I am not dressed well enough.” He finally promised to enter on the condition that the children should sing “Pass Me Not, O Gentle Saviour.” For more than fifty years he had not darkened the church door; but the old memories began to come back again; and he could not resist their appeal. Two years later he attended a convention at which Dr. Doane was present, and related the story, concluding with the words, “God bless William H. Doane and Fanny Crosby.”

“Rescue the Perishing,” as I have intimated, was written after a meeting at one of the New York missions. Sometime after the hymn became known I was at a service one evening and a young man told the story of his conversion. Poor and hungry, he had walked the streets for want of something better to do. He heard the singing at a mission; he went in; and before the service was concluded his heart broke in contrition.

“I was just ready to perish” he said to me, “but that hymn, by the grace of God saved me.”

As I stood there face to face with that young man, the audience was thrilled with the pathos of our meeting for the first time; and tears were shed in every part of the room.

“Only a Little Way,” said a dear old lady, who had been suffering acute pain, as she looked up into the clear blue sky just as the sun was setting; “’tis only a little way on to my home,” and from this I wrote the hymn bearing that title. “Jesus, Dear, I Come to Thee,” was a children’s song, which I wrote, both words and music, for the book called “Fresh Laurels,” in 1867. “Lord, I Am Weary” was written during the winter of 1867, while Mr. Bradbury was in St. Paul, to music which he sent to Sylvester Main. One day, before he went to Minnesota for his health, Mr. Bradbury asked me to write a hymn to the title, “Let the Good Angels Come In”; and when it was finished he said,

“Fanny, I am more pleased with this than I can tell you, and if there is anything I can do for you, let me know.”

One afternoon Sylvester Main was humming a
melody and I said to him,

“Oh, Mr. Main that is beautiful; and if you will let me, I am going to write a hymn for it.”

“Well” he said in his gentle way, “if you think it is worth it, you may do so.” I composed “I Come to Thee,” and it was very often sung to Mr. Main’s music.

William F. Sherwin once asked me to write the words to a melody that he had composed for the May Annual, for which several Sunday schools united to sing various hymns and hold public exercises. He asked me to write a piece so smooth that the air would sing itself; and I wrote “Sing with a tuneful spirit, Sing with a cheerful lay, Praise to thy great Creator, While on the pilgrim way.”

Within the last five or six years I have written a number of hymns for I. Allan Sankey, among them “O Look and Live,” “There’s Work to Do,” “Never Give Up,” “Show Me Thy Way,” “Bring Them In” and a “Rallying Song,” for the recent Christian Endeavor Convention, the music for which was pronounced by a friend of mine “unusually sweet and beautiful.” From childhood Mr. Allan Sankey has been noted for a bright, sunny disposition; and an intense love for the arts* especially that of music, in which he has so eminently distinguished himself in later years. I used to be so fond of his playing that, on several occasions, I have neglected to write hymns, when expected to do so.

I have already told the incident concerning the first time that “Saved by Grace” was recited in public. That occurred in the summer of 1894; but the words had been written and sent to the publishers more than two years previous, although they had not yet been set to music. The hymn itself was called into being through a little incident in a sermon preached by Dr. Howard Crosby who was a distant relative and a dear friend of mine. He said that no Christian should fear death, for if each of us was faithful to the grace given us by Christ, the same grace that teaches us how to live would also teach us how to die, His remarks were afterward published in a newspaper; and they were read to me by Mr. Biglow. Not many hours after I heard them I began to write the hymn,

“Some day the silver chord will break,
And I as now no more shall sing,
But, oh, the joy when I shall wake
Within the palace of the King.”

A friend sends the following story relative to “Saved by Grace.” She and a companion were attending one of the auditorium meetings at Northfield; and that hymn was sung. My friend made some remark concerning her acquaintance with me; and a lady, who was sitting directly in front of her, happened to catch it. Turning around she asked eagerly,

“Did I understand you to say that you know the author of ‘Saved by Grace?’” On being assured that she heard correctly, she continued,

“Will you kindly tell her what this hymn has done for me? Twelve years ago I was assailed by a great temptation at an important crisis in my life; and, although I had been a professing Christian, I was on the point of deciding for the wrong course. In this state of mind I entered a little chapel, not so much to hear the sermon as to listen to the sweet singing, and most of all to think out my own problem. Of the sermon I did not hear one word; but when the soloist began to sing, ‘I Shall see Him face to face,’ my heart melted. It seemed that God had spoken to me through the voice of that song; and I at once decided to take the right path; and ever since I have felt that the hymn saved me. I have longed to see Fanny Crosby; and if you ever meet her, please tell her the story for me.”

Among the many incidents of “Saved by Grace” is one told in a small Episcopal church in Pennsylvania by a woman who had been an actress. She said that she had been indifferent to all religious influence and on a certain day was going to spend the afternoon in pleasure at one of the public parks. As she was passing along the street, unconscious of her surroundings, she was attracted by some singing; and stopped out of pure curiosity to find that an Epworth League was conducting services in the open air. They were singing “Saved by Grace” and all the tender recollections of childhood came trooping before her mental vision; and as a result of the service there that afternoon she fell on her knees and asked the forgiveness of God.

The melody to “My Saviour First of All” was given me by Mr. John R. Sweney and he requested that I write something “tender and pathetic.” I prayed that appropriate words might be given me for his music; and the train of thought then started finally brought me to the sweet consciousness that I will know my Saviour by the print of the nails in his hand. Then I wrote,

“When my life-work is ended and I cross the swelling tide, When the bright and glorious morning I shall see, I shall know my Redeemer when I reach the other side, And His smile will be the first to welcome me.”

The following beautiful incident was sent me not long ago. There appeared in London a man who styled himself the Messiah; and for many weeks a large crowd was attracted to him. One night, however, as he was talking in one of the open squares in the city, a small band of the Salvation Army passed along singing,

“I shall know Him, I shall know Him,
By the print of the nails in His hand.”

The great throng joined in the chorus. Finally someone pointed to the self-styled Christ and said, “Look at his hands and see if the print of the nails is there.” They did as directed, but no print appeared; and they at once left off following him.

In October, 1905, while I was at Leominster, Massachusetts, I told this incident as I have just given it; and after its conclusion, a gentleman from the audience said to me,

“That story is true, every word of it; for I was there myself; and I’ll never forget it.”

Shortly after my mother’s death in 1890 John R. Sweney requested me to send him a poem, but he did not send any subject; and so I was free to make my own selection. A title came to me, “Over the River They Call Me” and I wrote,

“Over the river they call me,

Friends that are dear to my heart,
Soon I shall meet them in glory,
Never, no never, to part.

Over the river they call me,

Hark ’tis their voices I hear,
Borne on the wings of the twilight,

Tenderly, softly and clear.”

“Beautiful Waters of Eden” was written after I heard Prof. Adam Geibel’s beautiful melody.

We were riding out one day, and Mr. Sankey said “There’s sunshine on the hill, even though there are shadows in the valley,” and his remark led me to write the hymn in which those words are used.

The hymn beginning

“Dark is the night, and cold the wind is blowing, Nearer and nearer come the breakers’ roar,”

was written for Theodore E. Perkins. In one of my meetings during the autumn of 1905 a man came up to me, sang the first line of that hymn, and said,

“Praise the Lord, that song was the means of my conversion, and I have been singing it for years.”

“Oh what are you going to do, brother,
Say what are you going to do;
You have thought of some useful employment,
But what is the end in view?”

was written in 1867 for Philip Phillips, who came to me one afternoon and asked me if I could write something that would be appropriate for men of all ages, and particularly for business men.

I have already referred to my dear friend, Miss Mary E. Upham, now Mrs. R. B. Currier. For a number of years it was my good fortune to assist her as a gospel singer by contributing hymns, many of which were written after some incident. When Andrew Murray was holding evangelistic meetings in this country he was used by the Spirit to lead Mrs. Currier into deeper consecration by giving up all secular songs and using her voice only for sacred hymns. The Scripture that Dr. Murray used was the fifteenth chapter of John’s Gospel; and in telling me of her experience, under the Spirit’s leading I was inspired to write the hymn “Ever Abiding, Thou Keepest My Heart.” This hymn and others are published in Mrs. Currier’s book “O Sing Unto the Lord,” for which I have used also the pseudonyms, Zemira Wallace and C. U.

“Faith” was written in response to Mrs. Currier’s request to bring in all the Scripture I could bearing on that subject. “I’m Going Home to Father’s House” was written and inscribed to Dr. Dixon after hearing one of his sermons about the Father’s house. He had said that this world was not his home; that his home was where the Father is; and that his anchor was not cast but was lifted while he was sailing out to Father’s house.

“The anchor I have lifted now;

My sails are floating free,
Amid the breeze that wafts my soul

Beyond Life’s troubled sea.
I’m going where my Lord has gone,

A mansion to prepare,
Where I through all eternity,

May dwell in glory there.”

A little child, between four and five years of age, on retiring knelt down to say her evening prayer and was heard to say,

“Dear Jesus, I thank you for being punished instead of me.” She had heard her mother talking of Jesus taking our place. This incident inspired the hymn, “Instead of Me.”

“Good news from the gospel is sounding today; I haste to receive it, how can I delay? It tells me from bondage my soul may be free, Through Jesus who suffered instead of me.”

When informed of the death of a dear friend of Mrs. Currier’s and mine we sat down and wept together, and these words flowed from my heart,

“Only a little while pilgrims below,
Then to our Fatherland home we shall go.”

When I repeated the hymn to Mrs. Currier, she immediately sang it to the music coming from her heart as the words did from mine. Both words and melody were written in less than half an hour.

After Mrs. Currier’s consecration she was engaged to sing for six months in religious meetings in New York City; and in making the engagement had told them that she only sang gospel songs. They said that was enough, but on one occasion they asked her to sing at a certain large meeting something on the secular order, and when she reminded them of the agreement they asked her to stretch her conscience a little and think of it over night.

She prayed for guidance and in the morning on taking out some music that had been packed away the first piece that struck her eye was “I Cannot Sing the Old Songs.” She told me of the circumstance, and asked me to write a hymn telling why she could not sing the old songs. The result was “A New Song”:

“I cannot sing the old songs,

For me their charm is o’er,
My earthly harp is laid aside,

I wake its chords no more.
The precious blood of Christ my Lord,

Has cleansed and made me free;
And taught my heart a new song,

Of His great love to me.”

During a series of meetings in Baltimore one evening Dr. Gilman of Johns Hopkins University called to ask Mrs. Currier to sing at a service where workers of many denominations and creeds were assembled. There were Jews, Romanists, and different Protestant churches represented. She was asked for a hymn that would bring all closer together in brotherly love, and spur them on to greater work. No hymn could be found that fitted the case exactly, at least none in which so many creeds could join; and so at her request was written “Let Him be All in All.”

“From North to South, from East to West,
Before our God above,
We meet to join our hearts and hands
In one great work of love.

“Then let us in our Father’s name,
With holy reverence call,
Forgetting creed, forgetting self,
Let Him be ‘all in all’.”

A very dear friend, having passed through many severe trials, persecutions and sorrows, came to me and telling me of them said,

“God has led me all the way and has given me ‘songs in the night. ‘” With the incident still fresh in my mind I wrote the hymn entitled, “God Leadeth:”

“In paths that His wisdom and goodness prepare, God leadeth His children along; For He is our keeper and safe in His care, God leadeth His children along; Some through the water, some through the flame, Some through deep sorrow, but praised be His name, Where’er He leadeth, He giveth a song, In the night season, and all the day long.”

“I See the Light” has a beautiful history. A Boston harbor pilot, as he lay dying, looked up and said to those who watched by his bedside,

“I see the light.” Supposing that he was dreaming of familiar lights in the harbor, they asked,

“What light? Boston Light?”

“No” he replied.

“•Highland Light?”

“No.”

“Minot Light?” The old pilot answered, “I see the Light of Glory, now let the anchor go.” With these words his spirit passed over the bar, as his vessel had passed across the harbor-bar so many times, and there was no moaning for him since his spirit was at rest.

“I see the Light, ’tis coming,
It breaks upon my soul;
It streams above the tempest,
And ocean waves that roll.

“From skies with clouds o’er shadowed,
The mist dissolves away;
I see the Light that leadeth,
To everlasting day.

‘With joy no words can utter,

My heart is all aglow,
I see the Light of Glory,
Now let the anchor go.”

Among the many interesting letters, received of late, I select two or three that bear more directly upon the story of my life. From England during an evangelistic tour in the summer of 1900, Mr. Sankey wrote:

“Dear Fanny:

“You are not forgotten and your name is often mentioned in connection with ‘Saved by Grace’ in my services. We are keeping well and are just starting for Leeds, York, Sunderland, Berwick, Newcastle and Edinburgh, where large halls have been taken for our meetings.

I quoted your beautiful lines of poetry recently in Birmingham:

Oh, for an angel’s harp to tell
How much I love Thee and how well!’

They are fine and some of our mutual friends have written them down in their Bibles. I hope you are still as bright as a dollar, as you say.”

“Sincerely yours.

“Ira D. Sankey.”

I have spoken already of Imogene Hart, one of my pupils in the Institution and a life-long friend. For a recent birthday she sent me the following greetings:

“Dear Fanny:

“lam the Imogene Hart who was one of your schoolmates at the Institution for the Blind in 1839. You were appointed to prepare me to join several classes that were well advanced in their studies. You taught me grammar, geography, and knitting. You also labored very hard to teach me to sing ‘second’ in the hymn ‘Come Ye Disconsolate.’ I think you must have been greatly discouraged to hear my voice join the first sopranos after all your work to make me learn to sing alto.

“I see by the ‘Tribune’ that you are now eighty-five years old; and I congratulate you most heartily for the great good which you have all your life been able to accomplish through your beautiful hymns and carols — even writing up to this present day; and it makes me happy to know that you have always enjoyed good health and that you are still in the full enjoyment of life.” I was with you at the Institution less than three years, after which I developed a good voice and some musical ability. I am still able to sing a little although I shall be eighty years of age the first of next June. Sometimes I try my powers at composition; and I am going to send you some specimens of it. The ‘Polka Song ’ you must get some of your young lady friends to sing for you, so that you may judge that I keep up my good spirits.

“Yours affectionately,

“Imogene Hart.”
“Mt. Vernon, N. Y.,
Jan. 14, 1901.”

“Dear Friend of the Olden Time:

“Most of our colleagues and associates of the forties and fifties have crossed the river; but, for some reason, the ferryman has left you and me on this side. We can count on our fingers nearly all of our friends now living, who were with us at the Institution for the Blind from 1849 to 1854. With the exception of the years just named I was a school master from the second Monday in November, 1835, to the 10th of September last; and as I was teaching more or less while in the Institution, I claim to have been a teacher for sixty-four years and ten months.

“Since I retired last September, to occupy my time, which for a while, ‘hung heavy on my hands,’ I began to look, over my old manuscripts and I will copy a few lines from my diary, which was kept during those years. “‘Nov. 21, 1850: Last evening one of our number was converted at the 18th Street Church; and another (Fanny Crosby) at the 30th Street. I wish all of our family were Christians; and then we would be a happy family.’ “Do you remember that in 1851 a man came to the Institution to get you to write for a new weekly paper, to be called ‘The Saturday Emporium?’ You promised to write for him on the condition that I should reply to you in the next number. You wrote several poems, addressing me as Bertram, and signing yourself ‘Eurrilla.’ I have in manuscript now my answer to two of your poetic questions; one was

‘Where shall the wounded spirit rest?’

But I can only remember the last two lines of another question, and none of the one to which these were part of the answer. To this second question, ‘What is earth’s purest gem?’ I wrote sixteen four-line stanzas; and after sending you on a number of useless journeys, I concluded thus:

‘Forgiveness is the brightest pearl,
In all earth’s diadem.’

“Wishing you long years more, health and happiness, I am,

“Your life-long friend,

“T. D. Camp.”

I am glad to be able to include a letter from Mr. Faddoul Moghabghab, the real “Syrian Guest,” whose beautiful story has been written by Mr. Amos R. Wells.

“Miss Fanny Crosby,

“Most beloved sister in Christ:

“lam writing this letter with my Syrian pen, and must therefore put the Syrian custom into practice on such an occasion like this, — Easter Week, ‘Jesus Christ is Risen’; ‘Is risen indeed.’ We use these terms in Syria in place of your ‘Good morning,’ or ‘Good evening,’ etc., especially on Sunday, Easter-day; and wheresoever we go or with whomever we speak the first salutation is ‘Jesus Christ is risen today,’ and the reply ‘Is risen indeed.’

“Sister, though you are still in the body on this earth, you are always quoting the language of Heaven above; and your thoughts are continually discovering new regions beyond the river. Oh, I imagine how happy you always feel; and I hope to have another chance of meeting you again upon this earth, because I always gain new inspiration from those whose mansions are already prepared by the ‘Shepherd of the Sheep’; but I am sure, if we cannot meet each other in this world, we shall meet in Heaven.

“I remain, yours in Christ,

“Faddoul Moghabghab.”

Words and music composed when eighty-six years old. Fanny J. Crosby. Fanny J. Crosby.