Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1858-07-31
OLD HUNDRED.

In rustic church opposite. while we write. q
company of worshippers are singing the old old
hymn, BE thou. o God exalted high" The air
is old also, the immortal "Old Hundred"
If it is true that Luther composed that tune
and ii the worship of mortals is carried on the
wings of angels to heaven how often has he
heard the declaration, "Ihey are singing Old
Hundred now"
The solemn strain carries back 10 the time OF
the retormcrs, Luther and his devoted band
lie. doubtless, was the first to strike the grand
Old chords in the public sanctuary of his own
Germany
From his stentorian lungs they rolled. vbra-
ting not through vaulted cathedral roof, but
along grandcr arch, the eternal heavens. lie
wrought into each note his own sublime faith,
and stamped it with that faiths immortallity.-
Hence it cannot die. Neither man or angels
will let it pass into oblivion.
The blue eyed girls of old "fader land" sang
those same strains with all the enthusiasm, of a
new and holer religion. They had been bound
down to priest, prayer book and rosary. They
had raised adoring eyes to the spangled image
OF the Virgin, and bent blushinglv before the
carved semblance of the Saviour of sinners
They had knolt at the dark confessional. and.
placing their lips to the cunningly wrought por-
tails, told the choicest and the most sinful emo
tions of their hearts into the ear of the father
conie'sor, whom sometimes they feared more
than they feared God. But Luther, in the face
OF the fathers, had thrown down his rosary, and
refused to acknowledge any intercessor save
Christ Luther had, as it were, nailed his ana
thema over the openings of the confessional
Luther had laughed to scorn the holy relics pre-
tended miracles, and saving power Of the priest
hood and with daring, burning eoquence de
nounced their sensuality and their idolatrv-
FIRST the mothers heard, and then the maids
They went TO listen and remained TO prav. ave
and to sing with throbbing hearts and fearful
eyes, praise God from whom all blessings flow. -
Can you find tomb in the land where sealed
ups lie, that have not sang that tune We care
not now sin-hardened their tenants died, or how
pure. II they were grey old men. thev had
heard or sung Old Hundred. If they were
babes, they smiled their mothers rocked them
to sleep singing Old Hundred. Sinner and saint
haveJoined with the endless scongratulation where
1t has, with or without the pealing organ, sound
ed on sacred air, The dear little children. look
ing with wondering eyes on this strange world,
nave hsped It. The sweet young girl, whose
tomb stone told of sixteen summers, she whose
pure ana innocent face haunted you with its mild
beauty, loved "Old Hundred )" and as she sang
1t closed her eyes and seemed communing with
the angels who were soon to claim her He
whose manhood was devoted to the service ofhis
God, and who, with faltering steps. ascended the
pulpit stairs, with white hand placed over his
laboring breast, loved Old Hundred And
though, sometimes his lips only moved. away
down IN ms heart so soon to cease its throbs
the holy melody was sounding, The dear white
headed father, with his tremulous voice. how he
loved Old Hundred. DO YOU see him now. sit
ting in the venerable m-chair his hands cross
ed over the top Of his cane, his silvery locks
floating off from his hollow temples, and a tear
pcrchance stealing down his furrowcd checks as
The strains ring out DO You hear that thin,
wavering, faltering sound, now bursting forth.
listened for almost in vain. If yo do not, we
do; and from such lips, hallowed by fourscore
years service in the Masters cause, Old Humid
red sounds indeed a sacred melody.
You may fill your church choirs with Sabbath
prima donnas, whose daring notes emulate the
stecple and cost almost as much, but give us the
spirit stirring tones of the Lutheran hymn sung
by young and old together. Martyrs have hal
lowed it; it has gone up from the diving beds of
the saints. The old churches where generation
after generation has worshipped, and where
many scores of the dear dead have been carried
and laid before the altar where they gave them
selves to God, seemed to breathe Old Hundred
from vestibule to tower-top-the very air is
haunted with its spirit.
ioi iiN'iiNAlN VI lllc dSSClllDlcu COln-
pany who have, at different times and in differ
ent places, joined in the familiar tunel Can you
number it ? Throng upon throng-throng up
ON throng-the stern, the gentle, the timid, the
brave, the beautiful, their rapt faces all beam
ing with the inspiration of the heavenly sounds
Old Hundred king of the sacred band of
ancient airs Never shall our ears grow weary
of hearing, our tongue of singing thee And
when we get to heaven, who knows but what
the first triumphal strain that welcomes us may
be,
"Be thou, o God, exalted high"