Smyrna times. [volume] (Smyrna, Del.) 1854-1987, 1892-01-06

one in it had the privilege of singing
with the choir, and drowning it out
with volume of sound
In those days the Elder lined out
the hymns. In high nasal tone the
good Deacon recited in a sing song the
hymn for the occasion, and he couldn't
spoil the hymn in reading it any more
than the choir could spoil it in singing
it-althOugh our choirs of to-day would
smile audibly at the old Westinghouse
music of the past. But what earthly
voice with its self conscious infections
is tit to sing that grand anthem of our
fOrefathers' worship:
while shepherds watched their flocks by
night
All seated on the ground"
Then came in the tenor:
Then Angel-of-"
Then the bass Numbered:
THE Angel Of"
Then the counter:
THE Lord came down.
And the choir:
And glory shOne around"
This was the fugue or contrapuntal
style, where all parts Of the tune res
pond to each other, and which was the
most effective singing known in that
simple service of song.
And it is a question if that grand
prelude to the heavenly music was
ever sung better or more acceptably
by the mezzO- sopranos and basso-prO.
fundOs of the modern choir, with theil
quavers and trills on the high C's oil
musical craft.
l had funny story told me about
the dear bigoted old choir singers Of
that day, which shows with what ex.
IRENE and jealous caution they watched
the slightest innovation on local Gus,
toms. Some one had gone on a Jour.
ney fifty or sixty miles distant, and bis
safe return had been made a subject
of prayer. When e came he was full
of queer notions imbibed in the
"ta-O-w-n" which he had visited.
Among other things he had the au.
dacity to tell the choir that new way
OfprOnOuncing words, and that "shone'
was pronounced ''shOn." There was
an immediate revolt, and the old Dea-
con sternly asked how it would sound
to hear the line:
And glory shone around" read
"shOn around"
ut be too redikilOus, brethren and
sistern, to contemplate" and the
young man meekly subsidized into his
shell.
Quaint anecdotes linger in the at.
mOsphere of that vanishing past. One
old dominic went into the pulpit and
opening his hymn book by the light oil
the guttering tallow dip, looked at the
congregation and said with due sOlem.
nifty:
II fear mine eyes arge growing dim;
l cannot see to read this hymn"
To his surprise the Deacon at once
lined it to the congregation
Il fear mine eyes are growing dim,
l cannot see to read this hymn"
When the choir had sung that, the
minister attempted to explain. Sale
he:
II did not mean that for the hymn
l only said mine eyes were dim"
Again the Deacon lined it, and again
the choir sang the astonishing new
version.
The unfortunate dominic, believing
himself to be possessed with a deVi
of versi6catiOn, bawled out in despera
ton
"YOu fools, why will you sing tha
hymn said mine eyes were growing
dim"
AS he heard this set to music, ht
rushed out of the sacred edifice anC
went home after his spectacles.
All the pretty girls of the country
villages were in the choir All thu
counting was done there. They were
rosy lips that sung "Old Hundred, ,
and "COrinth," and "China" anC
IN ear"
The ribbons of those big scoop bon
nets and sky-scrapers huttered in the
breeze that came in through the oval
window, scented with the neW-mOwr
hay and sweet-brier roses that grew OF
the graves outside. The choir was the
attraction to all except the old people
of that day, who were never quite will
ling to cOncede any good thing t
inexperienced youth, and to whom tn,
big viol was an innovation of the evi
one.
But the stranger who strayed int
the old Westinghouse caring naugh
for the first" or filthy" of the prosy
sermon, looked up at the choir, and a
once there was a doVe-like flutter o.
ribbons and hymn books, and oh, wha
saucy, piquant earthliness was re
vealed in the demure faces of the choi
sisterhOod.
"'Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,
OF earth and folly born,
SOlemnly sang the village choir
On that sweet Sabbath morn,
Long was the good mans sermon,
Yet it seemed not so to me,
For he spake of Ruth the beautiful,
And still thought of thee"
The presenter, too, has gone wit
the old choir. He was often an ignOT
ent, bigOted, selfassertive man, but b.
belonged to that dear domestic age @
simplicity and gOod-fellowship. Their,
are stories told of him, too. 1t is SAT-
that noted city preacher went to
village to Officiate over Sunday anC
was called upon by the presenter o
the choir, who said to him:
First we sing four or five verses
then you pray, not long; then we sim
again, and you say few words, an,
we sing again. You see, in our meet
ms we gives a good bit Of time to thu
singing. All, that's heaven, sir--al
singin' and no preaching or praying
that's pleasant thought to me sir"
! always have a pleasant though
about heaven" said the good minister
land It is, that you will not preoente
there"
And yet it is true, as Herbert says
that a hymn well sung
MAY catch him who sermon flies"
The truth is that in the old times th
choir was but the mouthpiece of til
congregation. Every body sang, froI
the lisping child to the gray-haire
grandparent, and the music gave 81
preston to all the self-repressiOn, th
unspoken desires, the cry for light l.,
yOnd, which were the stronger emf
tions of that age. The power an
pRthos Of that singing often reaehe
] to the sublime. just as to-day the plaiI