Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1870-02-11
{. Old Hundred.


In a rustic old church opposite, while
VIC write. a company Of worhippen ara
singing the old, old hymn, " Be thou, O
God, exalted high" The air s old, al.
80; the immortal "Old Hundred"
If 1t be true that Luther composed
that tune, and If the worship Of immor-
tails is carried on the wings of angels to
heaven, how often has he heard the dec
laration -" They are singing Old Hun
dred now"
The solemn strain carries us back to
the time Of the Reformer-Luther and
his devoted band. He, doubtless, was
the first to strike the grand old chords
Of the public sanctuary of his own Ger
many. From his own stentorian lungs
they rolled, vibrating not through vault
ed roof, but along q grander arch, the
eternal heavens. He wrought into each
note his own sublime faith, and stamped
it with that faiths Immortality. Hence
it cannot die! Neither men nor angels
will let it pass into oblivion.
Can you find a tombin the land where
sealed lips lay that have not sung that
tuner If 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
sold Hundred" Sinner and saint have
Joined with the endless congregation,
when it has, with and without the peal
ing organ, sounded on sacred air. The
dear little children, looking with wonder
ing 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 manhood was devoted to the
service Of his God, and who with falter-
ing 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, 50 soon to ease
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, sitting
in the venerable armchair, his arms
crossed over the top of his cane, his sill
very locks floating off from his hollow
temples, and tear, perchance, stealing
down his furrowed cheeks, as the noble
strains ring out? Do you hear that thin,
quivering, faltering sound. now bursting
forth, now listened for, almost in vainf
Ii you do not, we do: and from such lips
hallowed by fourscore years in the Mas
ter's cause, Old Hundred" sounds in
deed sacred melody.
You may fill your churches with choirs,
with Sabbath prima donnas, whose dar-
ing 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. Mar
tyrs have hallowed it; it has gone up
from the dying beds of saints. The old
churches where generation after genera
tion has worshipped, and where many
scores of the dear dead have been car
ried, and laid before the altar where they
gave themselves to God, seem to breathe
of "Old Hundred" from vestibule 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 IA
miliar tunel Throng upon throng the
stern, tho timid, the gentle, 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 ofhearing, or our tongues
of singing thee And when we get to
Heaven, who knows but what the first
triumphant strain that welcomes us may
be-
BE thou, o God, exalted high"