The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1858-12-30
BLANKS,


tune, aud if the worship of mortals ia car.
ricd on the wings of angels to Heaven, how
aften has he heard the declaration ~
are singing Old Hundred now" The
solemn strain carries US back to times of
the reformers-Luther and his devoted
band He, doubtless, was the first to
strike the I,rand old chords in the public
sanctuary of his own Germany. From
his stentorian lungs rolled, vibrating not
through vaulted cathedral roof, but along
grander arch, the eternal heavens. He
wrought into each note his own sublime
faith, and stamped it with the faiths I'M
mortality Hence it cannot die. Meth.
er men nor angels will let it pass into OBJ
livion.
Can you find a tomb in the land where
sealed lips lay, that have not sung that
tune? If they were gray old men, they
had heard or sung "Old Hundred" If
they were babies, they smiled as their
mother rocked them to sleep, singing "Old
Hundred Sinner aud saints hsv join.
ed with endless congregation where il has,
with and without the pealing organ, soun-
ded on the sacred air.
The dear little children, looking with
wondering eyes on this strange world have
lisped it. The sweet young girl, whose
tombstone told of sixteen summers-she
whose pure innocent face haunted with its
mild teauty-loyed ''Old Hundred" and
she sang it, closed her eyes, and seemed
communing with the angels who were soon
to claim it. He whose manhood was de-
voted to the service Of God, and he who,
with the white hand placed over his Ia
boring breast, loved "Old Hundred" and
though sometimes his lips only move, way
down in his heart, so soon to cease its
throbs, the holy melody was sounding
The dear white haired old father, with
his tremulous voice, how he loved "Old
Hundred" Do you see him now, sitting
in the venerable armchair; his hands
crossed over the head Of his cane, his
silvery locks floating off from his hallowcd
temples, and tear stealing down his care.
worn, furrowed cheeks, that thin, quiver-
ing, faltering sound, now bursting forth,
now listening for in vain? Ifyou do not,
W. dn.-.a.,l-ls-o r-rch lips, hello~tsi r.
rour scvr~ q. Sne masters
cause, "Od Hundred" sounds, indeed, q
sacred melody.
You may fill your choirs with Sabbath
prima donnas, whose daring notes emulate
the stceple, and cost mos as much-but
give us the spirit-tones Of the Lutheran
hymn, sung by old and young together
Martyrs have hallowed it it has gone up
from the bed of the saints. The old
churches, where generation after genera
tion have worshipped, and where many
scores Of the dear dead have been carried
and laid before the alter, where they gave
themselves to God, seem to breathe of "Old
Hundred from vestibule to tower top;
the air is haunted with its spirit
Think moment ,f the assembled COM
pany who have at different times and in
different placed joined in the familiar tune.
Throng upon throng-the strong, the tim
id the gentle, the brave, the bea ,tiful. the
rapt faces all beaming with inspiration Of
the heavenly sounds.
"Old Hundred % king of the sacred
band of "ancient airs - Never shall our
ears grow weary of hearing, or our tongues
of singing thee. And when we get to
Heaven, who knows but what the first
triumphal strains that welcome US may be-
"Be thou, o God exalted high"