Daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1859-1865, 1863-08-19
Old Hnndred.

IN Iu5ilc OuufCu OPpoSlJeh WEllo We
write, a company OF worshippers are sing.
ing the old, old hymn, "Be Thou, o, God.
exalted high" The air is old, also; anj
the immortal "Old Hundred"
II it be true that Luther composed that
tune, and If the worship of immOrtals is
carried on the wings of angels to heaven,
how often has he heard the declaration =
"They are singing sold Hu6dred,' now"
The solemn strain carries as back to
the time of the Reformers-Luther aud
his devoted band. He, doubtless, was the
frst TO strike the grand old chords in the
public sanctuary of his own Germany
From his own stentorian lungs they rolled,
vibrating, not through vanIted cathedral
roof, but along a grander arch, the eternal
heavens. he wrought into each note his
own sublime faith, and stamped It with
faiths Immortality. Hence it cannot die I
Neither men nor angels will let it pass into
oblivion.
Can you find tomb in the land where
sealed lips lie that have not sung that tuner
II they we're gray, old men, they heard or
sung "0ld Hundred" II they were babes,
they smiled as their mothers rocked them
to sleep singing "Old Hundred" Sinner
and saint have Joined with the endless con-
gregation, where it has, with and without
the pealing organ, sounded 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, che
whose pure and innocent face haunted you
with its mild beauty, loved s'0ld Hun
dred," and she sung it, closed her eyes,
and seemed cOmmuning with the angels,
who were soon 20 claim her. He whose
manhood was devoted to the service Of
e.Te
ed the pulpit stairs with white hands
placed over his labored breast, loved ..OId
Hundred" Aud though sometimes his
lips only moved, away down in his heart,
so soon to cease its throbs. the holy melO-
dy was sounding. The dear white headed
father, with his tremulOus voice, how he
loved ''Old Hundred" Do you see him
now sitting in his venerable arm chair, his
arm crossed over the top of bis cane, his
silvery locks floating OF from his hollow
temples, and a tear PercbaDce stealing
down his hollow cheek as the noble strains
ring out? Do you hear thar thin, quiVer-
ing, falteriug sound now bursting forth,
now listened for almost in vain2 If you
do not, we do; and from such lips, hal
lowed by fOurscore years in the Masters
cause. "Old Hundred" sounds indeed Sa-
cred melody.
with Sabbath Prima donnas, whose daring
notes emulate the steePle, and cost almost
as much, but give up the spirit stirring
tunes ofthe Lutheran hymn, sung by young
and old together. Martyrs have haliOwed
il; it has gone up from the dying beds Of
saints. The churches where generation
after generation have worshiPpsd, and
where many scores of the dear dead have
been carried and laid before the altar where
they gave themselves 10 God, seemed 70
breathe of "0ld Hundred" from VestibUIe
to tower top-the very air is haunted with
its spirit
Think for moment, of that assembled
company who have, at different times and
in different places, Joined in the familiar
tuneI Tbrong upon thrOng-the stern, the
timid, the gentle, the brave, the beautiful,
their rapt faces all beami0g with the iDspi
ration of the heavenly soundsI
s'Old Hundred r. King of the sacred
band of ancient airs. Never shall our ears
grow weary Of hearing, or our tongues of
singing theel Aud when We 20 TO heaven,
who Knows but that the frst triumPhnl
strain that welcomes us may be-
sSRe fhou q God oxllted high -