Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1852-1859, 1858-12-16
THE INTELLlGENCER..
Old mnhnnnn

II II be true that Luther composed that t,no
and 1t the worship of mortals is cnrriad o., ' .i'
wings of angels to Heaven, how often he he
NJ near9 thc declaration, "They are singing Old
i-I INJURED now. The solemn strain carries ns
oacK TO times OF, the reformers- Luther and lis
devoted band. He doubtless, was the first "to 70
strike the grand old chords in the public sane
tu1ry of his own Germany. From his s+ntS
ran lungs, rolled, vibrating not through vanlted
cathedral roof, but along grander arch fSe
eternal. heavens. He wrought into each note
ms own sublime faith, and stamped it with that
,a'sn Hence 1t cannot die. Neith-
er men nor angels willlet it pass into obliy;on
Gan you hnd a tomb in the land where sealed.
lips lie that have not sung that tune9 IF thew
were gray old men, they had heard or sung
Old Hundred. If they were babies, they sIni
led as their mother rocked them to sleep' sing-
ing oia Hundred" Sinner and saint have
joined with endless congregations where il has
with and without the pealing organ. soundeI IN
the sacred air. % ''S'eO O'i
The dear little children, looking with wonder.
ing ing eyes on this strange world, have lispcd it
Inc sweet young girl whose tombstone told of
sixteen snmmers-she whose pure, innocent
tace il haunted you with its mild beautv-loved
~, o,o hundred, and she sangit closed her eyes,
ahu seemed 2communing with the angels who
were soon to claim it. He whose manhood was &C.
voted 10 the serviceo of God, and he who, with the
Whlte hand placed over his laboring breast loved
.oid Hundrcd;" and though sometimes his
Ups only move, way down in his heart. so soon
to cease its throbs, the holy melody was sound
ing The dear, white haired old father. with
ms tremuious voice, how he loved "Old uund.
red: Do you see him now, sitting in the ven
cradle arm-chair, his hands crossed over the
mead OF his cane his silvery locks floating off
from ms followed temples, and tear stealing
down his care-worn, furrowcd cheeks, that thin,
qulVerlng, faltering sound, now bursting forth
now listening for in vainP If you do not. We
DO; and from such lips, hallowed by fonr score
years service In the Masters cause, ttOld Hun
orea sounds, indeed, a sacred melody
You may I'LL your chOirs with Sabbath prima
donnas, whose daring notes emulates the stee-
PIE and cost most as much-but give us the
splrlt-tones OF the Lutheran hymn, sung by old
ana young together. Martyrs have halowei IT;
II has gone up from the bed of the saints. The
old churches, where generation after generation
have worshipped, and where NANNY scores or
the dear dead have been carried and laid before
the altar, where they gave themselves to God
seem to breathe of ''Old Hundred" from vesti.
spirit. "'''- 40
Think a moment of the assembled COMPANY
who have at different times and in different
places Joined in the familiar tune Throng upon
thronS-the strong, the timid, the gentle the
brave the beautiful, the rapt faces all beaminD
with inspiration of the heavenly sounds
odd Hundred!" king of the sacred band of
"anclentalrs!" Never shall our ears grow weary
OF hearing or our tongues of singing, thee -
ana when we get to heaven, who knows but
what the first triumphial strains that welcome
US may be-
"Be thou, o Cool exalted bicbim