Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1863-02-20
Old Hundred"

In q rustic old church opposite, while
write, company of worshippes are 81
ing the old, old hymn, Be thou, O G
exalted high" The air Is old, also
immortal !" Old Hundred"
If il lie true that Luther composed Il
:une, and IL the worship Of ilnmortals
carried on the wings Of angels to hsav
how often has he heard the declaration /
They are singing Old Hundred now
The solemn strain carries Us back to /
time Of the Reformers-Luther and !
devoted band. He, doubtless. was the 81
10 strike the grand old chords Of the pub
sanctuary Of his own Germany. From !
own stentorian lungs they rolled, vibratil
not through vaulted cathedral roof. but
longs grander arch. the eternal HEAVIER
He wrought into each ncte his own sublin
faith, and stamped ii with that faiths il
mortality. Hence il cannot die Meth
men nor angels win let it pass into oblivio
Can you find tomb in the land whci
sealed lips lay that have not sung that tune
If they were gray old men. they had hea,
or sung" Old Hundred" If they wei
babes, they smiled as their mothers rocke
them to aleep, singing "Oid Hundred
Sinner and saint have joined with the enc
ess congregation, Nhen it has, with 40
without the pesling organ, sounded
sacred air. The dear little children, lool
ing with wondering eyes on this strang
world, have lisped it. The sweet youn
girl whose tombstone told of sixteen sun
mers, she whose pure and. innocent fac
haunted you with its mild beauty, love
"Oid hundred" and as she sungit, close
her eyes, and seemed commnning with th
angels who were so soon to claim her. IL
whose manhood was devoted to the servie
of his God, and who with faltering steT
assembled ihe pulpit ssa;rs wrath .shise h~n
placed over his aboriLg br EAST, loved o.
Hundred" And though so metimes bis liz
only moved, away down i'm his heart, &
soon to ease its ,hrobs, the ioly melody wa
sounding. The dear whites headed father
with his tremulous voice how he love
F" Old Hundred" Do your see him now
sitting in the venerable arIr-chalr, his arm
crossed over the top Of his cane, his silver,
locks fioating off from his hollow temples
and tear. ierchance, stealing down hi
furrowed cheeks, IS the noble strains RIM
ou, 2 Do you hear that thin, quivering
faltering sound, now bursting forth, nov
listened for, almost in vain If you do not
we do :and from such lips, hafiowed By
fourscore years in the Masters cause
"Old Hundred" sounds indeed sacred
melody.
You may fill your churches with cho;rs,
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 altogether. Martyrs have hallowed it
il has gone up from the dying beds Of 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 themselves to God, seem to
breathe Of" Old hundred from vestibule
TO tower top--ihe very air is haunted with
its spirit
Think, for moment, of the assembled
company who have, at different times and
in different places, joined in the familiar
tune! Throng upon throng the stern, the
timid, the gentle, the brave, the beautiful,
their rapt faces all beaming with the in
spiration Of the heavenly sounds
"Old Hundred y 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 frat triumphant
strain that welcomes US may be-
" Be thou, o God, exalted high"