Weekly standard. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1858-1865, 1865-03-22
!. OLD HUNDRED.

OLD HUNDRED.
In q rustic church opposite, while we
write, a company of worshipers are sing
ing the old, old hymn,
"Be thou, God, exalted high"
The air is old also, the immortal "old
Hundred"
Fl is true that Luther composed that
tune, and if the worship Of mortals is car
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 time of the reformers, Luther and his
devoted band. He doubtless was the first
to strike the grand old chords in the pub
lie sanctuary Of his own Germany.
From his stentorian lungs they rolled,
vibrating not through vaulted cathedral
roof, but along grander- arch, the eter-
nal heavens. He wrought into each note
his own sublime faith, stamped with that
faiths immortality. Hence it cannot die.
Neither man nor angels will let it pass in
to oblivion.
The blue-eyed girls of old " father-land"
sang those same strains with all the en-
thusiasm Of new and holier religion
They had been bound down to priest,
prayer-book and rosary. They had raised
adoring eyes to spangled images of the.
Virgin, and bent blushingly before the
carved semblance of the Saviour of sim
ners. They had knelt at the dark con-
fessional, und placing their lips to its cum
ningly wrought portals, told the choicest
and +bo moot c;nf,1 o,,ot;ono IF +boi,
hearts into the ear of the father confessor,
whom sometimes they feared more than
they feared God. But Luther, in the face
of the fathers, had thrown down his rosa
ry, and refused to acknowledge any inter-
cessor, save Christ. Luther had laughed
to scorn the holy relics, pretended mira
cles and saving power Of the priesthood,
and with daring, burning eloquence, de-
nounced their sensuality and their idola-
try. First the mothers heard, and then
the maids. They went to listen and re-
manned to pray, aye, and to sing with
throbbing hearts and fearful eye,
"Pralse God from whom all blessings fow."
Can you find tomb in the land where
sealed lips lie, that have not sung that
tune2 We care not how sin-hardened
their tenants died, or how pure. If they
were grey old men, they had heard or
sung "Old Hundred" If they were
babes, they smiled as their mothers rocked
them to sleep, singing "Old Hundred"
Sinner and saint have joined with the
countless congregations where it has, with
or without the pealing organ, sounded on
sacred air. The dear little children, look
ing 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 wild beauty,
loved "Old Hundred" and, as she sang
it, closed her eyes and seemed communing
with the angels who were 80 soon to claim
her. He whose manhood was devoted to
the service of God, who, with faltering
steps assembled the pulpit stairs, with
white hand placed over his laboring breast,
loved cold Hundred )" and though some
times his lips only moved, away down in
his heart, so soon to cease its throbs, the
holy melody was sounding. The white
headed father with his tremulous voice,
how he loved Old Hundred!' Do You
see him now, sitting in the venerable arm.
chair, his hands crossed over the top of
his cane, his silvery locks floating off from
his holy temples, and tear perchance
stealing down his furrowed cheeks as the
strains ring out. Do you -aear that thin,
quivering, faltering sound, now bursting
forth, now listened for, almost in vain +
If you do not, we do; and from such lips,
halIowed by four-score years. service in
the Masters cause, cold Hundred
sounds, indeed, sacred melody.
You may fill your church 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 from the dying
beds of the saints. The old churche:
where many scores of the dear dead have
been carried, and laid before the altal
where they gave themselves to God, seen
to breathe the cold Hundred " from YES
thule to tower-top-the very air is haunt
ed with its spirit.
Think for moment of the assembled
company who have, at different times ant
in different places, joined in the familia
tune9 Can you number it9 Throng up
on throng -throng on throng-the stern
the timid, the gentle, the brave, the beau
tiful-their rapt faces all beaming wit
the inspiration of the heavenly sound.
"Old aundredl' king of the sacre
band of ancient airsl Never shall GU
ears. grow weary Of hearing, or tongues G
singing thee! And when we reac
Heaven, who knows but that the first tr
umphant strain that welcomes US, ma
be-
; "Be thou, God, exalted high"