Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1858-06-10
"Old Hundred"

In GuetlC olu CHuICH oPPosto, "hho VIC
write, company of worshippers are sing
ing the old, old hymn, "Be thou, o God,
exalted high" The air is old, also; the
immortal "Old Hundred"
If it be true that Luther composed that
tune, and if the worship ofimmortals is Cdr
ried on the wings of angels to heaven how
often has he heard the declaration, "They
are singing 'Old Hundred now"
The solemn strain carries US back to the
times of the reformers-Luther and his de-
voted band. He, doubtless, was the first to
strike the grand old chords in the public
sanctuary Of his own Germany. From his
own stentorian lungs they 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 that faiths i'm
mortality. Hence'it cannot die! Neither
men Tor angels will let it pass into obliv-
ion.
Can you find tomb in the lands where
sealed lips lay that have not sung that tune
l they were gray old men, they had heard
or sung 'Old Hundred If they were babes,
they smiled as their mothers rocked them
to sleep, singing "OlG Hundred" Sinner
and saint have joined with the endless con-
gregati ion where it has, with and without
the peeling organ, sounded on 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 and innocent face haunted you
with its mild beauty, loved "Old Hundred
and as she sung it, closed her eyes and
seemed communing with the angels who
were so soon to claim her. He whose man.
hood was devoted to the service Of his God,
and who with ALTERING 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 his heart, so soon to cease
it's throbs, the holy melody was sounding.
The dear white-headed father, with his
t remulous voice! how he loved "Old Hun
dred." Do you see him now, sitting in the
venerable armchair, his arms crossed over
the top of his cane, his silvery locks float
ing off from his hollow temples, and a tear,
perchance, stealing down his furroved
cheeks, as the noble strains ring outl Do
you hear that thin, quivering, faltering
sound, now bursting forth, now listened :or.
almost in vain! If you do not, we do; and
from such lips, halowed by four-score
years. service in the Masters cause, "Old
Hundred" sounds indeed "a sacred melody.
You may fill your churches with choirs,
with Sabbath prima donnas, whose daring
notes emulate the steeple and cost almost
as much, but give US the spirit-stirring tones
of the Lutheran hymn, sung by young and
old together. Martyrs have hallowed it,
it has gone up from the dying beds of the
saints. The old churches where generation
after generation has worshipped, and where
many scores of the dear dead have been car
ried, and laid befoIe the altar where they
gave themselves to God, seem to breathe OF
"Oid Hundred" from We stibule to tower-top
the very air is haunted with its spirit.
Think, for a moment, of the assembled
company who have, at different times and
in different places, joined in the familiar
tune! Throng upon th-ong-the stern, the
timid, the gentle, tho brave, the beautiful
their rap: faces all beuming with the insPi
alton of the heavenly sounds.
"Old Hundred!' king of the sacred 5ant
of ancient airs. Never shall our ears grow
weary of hearing, or our tongues of singing
thee! And when we get to heaven, whit
knows but what the first riumphial strair
that welcomes US may be-
'.Be thou, o God, exalted hight