Morning Songs Fill the Day with Music

Skilled in both the art and science of making lovely gardens, Silas Kenton loved to sing while working. The story of this interesting English gardener was related by the Rev. S. Horton in “Say It with Song.”

“Good morning, Kenton,” was the cheery greeting of Lady Lawder, by whom he was employed, one day. Then she added: “You were singing early this morning, Silas. I could hear you as I lay in bed.”

“I hope I didn’t disturb your ladyship,” he answered. “I had forgotten the green-houses were so near your room. It was thoughtless of me and I am sorry indeed.”

“Well, it did wake me up, but I didn’t mind. What was it you were singing? The tune was familiar to me.”

“It was an old favorite of mine,” replied Silas:

The musical gardener then made this observation: “You see, ma’am, when the world gets busy, there are doubtless thousands upon thousands of singers whose songs are rising like sweet music to the skies. I like to think that most mornings I’m one of the earliest of the Lord’s servants offering my tribute of praise. Besides I always think a few songs before breakfast fill the heart with music all the day.”

Hymn Suggested by a “Blaze of Leafage”

For eight months an English Episcopalian bishop confined to a Japanese prison saw no sunlight. But this prisoner of war did witness what he described as “a blaze of leafage on some trees.” This sight recalled to the mind of the bishop a hymn from the heart and pen of Charles Wesley:

This experience which came to Dr. J. L. Wilson, Bishop of Singapore, who was representing the Church of England, stood out above all others, and represented the value of a mind stored with memories of hymns. Three thousand people listened most attentively for forty-five minutes in the City Hall, Sheffield, England, in September, 1946, as the speaker narrated experiences which can come only in war time.

A reporter was among those who heard with amazement the words of the bishop as he explained how, charged with being a “spy,” he was “imprisoned, tortured, and flogged with ropes almost beyond endurance” by the Japanese. Four thousand persons were crowded into a prison designed to accommodate seven hundred. They were a courageous company, however. “When men and women came downstairs bleeding from torture, they might not speak; but they smiled, and the others smiled back.” Bishop Wilson was the only “European among Malayans, Indians and Chinese.” But his fellow-prisoners, observing his firmness and forgiving spirit, asked him to teach them to pray.

Bread and wine were lacking, but Bishop Wilson used tea or water in the celebration of the Holy Communion on Sundays. “It might be irregular,” the speaker remarked with a smile; but he could not be convinced that it was not valid. A Christian girl, he learned, was there for helping the British, and the elements were passed through the prison bars to her.

The hymn which lifted the soul of the imprisoned bishop above his immediate surroundings came from the singing spirit of Charles Wesley, and appeared in 1740 in his “Hymns and Sacred Poems.” The hymnology of both British and American Methodism is enriched by the inclusion of this song of worship; and it is also found in the Hymnal of the Protestant Episcopal Church, The Hymnal (Presbyterian), The Hymnary (of the United Church of Canada), The Inter-Church Hymnal, etc. The three verses will be found “full of the sunshine of which they sing,” observed Dr. Charles S. Robinson. Lovers of literature will be especially interested in a comment made by Dr. James Moffatt, where he says, “George Eliot uses this hymn in Adam Bede describing how Seth Bede, the young Methodist, on leaving his brother one Sunday morning in February, ‘walked leisurely homeward, mentally repeating one of his favorite hymns.’ It was this one.”

Easy is it, therefore, for us to imagine Bishop Wilson, the liberty-loving Englishman, confined to a sunless prison in a foreign country, catching a glimpse of “a blaze of leafage on some trees,” then refreshing his singing spirit by mentally repeating the lines which he had often joined with others in publicly singing when a youth in his homeland:

“Stone walls do not a prison make” when one has a song in his soul. And he who knows his hymnal well has one for every occasion.

CHAPTER III
SUNSET SONGS

“One of the most successful numbers sung in the series of Sunday evening concerts, which for several years it was my privilege and pleasure to sponsor, was that old English hymn, ‘Now the Day is Over.’ That hymn marked the close of each Sunday night concert, and the thousands of letters I received from listeners throughout the country gave sure evidence that this old religious song struck a responsive chord in the heart of listeners everywhere.” —A. Atwater Kent in a broadcast on “Radio’s Influence on Music.”

A group of young men from an English theological college, the “Cliff College Trekkers,” went, during the summer of 1936, to Morecambe, and there this band of energetic youth held Sunday services on the slipway.

Evening prayer was also held by them at the slipway, and one who was present expressed gratitude through the press for the privilege of sharing these moments of quiet devotion. Following prayers, the entire company united in singing:

People who had listened to the inspirational hymn were doubtless singing in their hearts, as they walked to their seaside residences, the glowing words:

Nature Gave the Perfect Touch

Some of the great moments of a lifetime were experienced by lovers of sacred music on an evening in late June, 1931, at the stadium of Cornell University. The Westminster Choirs, arrayed in their resplendent robes, sang under the leadership of the distinguished conductor, Dr. J. Finley Williamson. A representative of The Syracuse Post-Standard thus sketched the event for his newspaper:

“The scene:—Eleven harps were ranged on the velvet green in front of the singers. The skies were hung with black clouds for a canopy. The soft beauty of the marvellous scenery, as far as the eye could reach, surrounded all. Lightning darted through the clouds, and the low rumble of thunder was a background for the celestial music of the harps as they played the hymn:

“‘Day is dying in the west;

Heaven is touching earth with rest:

Wait and worship while the night

Sets her evening lamps alight

Through all the sky.’

“When the voices, in unison with the harps, hummed the melody, it was something to be cherished in memory. Words fail to describe adequately the impression. It was the perfect touch that only nature is able to give to human effort.”

During such sublime moments the musicians passed to the close of the hymn:

The music combined with the display of nature to induce a mood which brought God very close to his earthly children that June afternoon.

The Bells of Trinity

Startled as he wandered rather aimlessly amid lower New York, a distinguished visitor listened to the Bells of Trinity Church as they joyously pealed forth the strains of:

The music fell with soul-stirring effect on the ears of Dr. John A. Hutton, long-time editor of The British Weekly, who was in the United States, as he frequently was in summer-time, to fulfill engagements in preaching and lecturing.

The location of Trinity Church, whence came the eventide music, deepened the interest in the hymn. Said Dr. Hutton: “I was hearing the Lord’s song just where the Lord’s song stands in most need of being heard, and just where the Lord’s song sounds most sweetly. I was hearing the Lord’s song in a strange land.” Down opposite Wall street, “Where Mammon holds the throne, dwarfed and almost overshadowed by immense business and financial houses, rises the spire of Trinity.” Hence, “where men were engrossed in the things of time and sense, there fell upon the ear a song that spoke of heaven.”

The most popular setting in America for this hymn is “Pilgrims” by Henry Smart, with what H. Augustine Smith calls its “plaintive wistfulness.” This hymn therefore, according to Boyd, “appeals to both the poetic sense and the musical ear.”

Personally I have seen congregations deeply moved as they have joined in singing, at an evening service of worship:

Singing Soldiers

Fifteen soldiers were gathered together on a Thursday evening in a little French village behind the line during the First World War. Forming themselves into a semicircle around the chaplain, Thomas Tiplady, who has described the scene in “The Cross at the Front,” they made choice of the hymn they would like sung to open their devotional meeting. Then they joined in singing:

The evening was still, and the voices of the men playing football not far away were heard, as well as the sound of guns. Yet as the men sang the birds were also singing in some neighboring trees. Chaplain Tiplady makes this observation: “To him who has only sung this hymn in a church much of its beauty must of necessity be hidden. It is revealed only in the light of the setting sun. The men were facing the Golden West. The pomp of the dying day lay upon the rustling leaves of the trees and upon the grass at our feet. It lit up with beauty the faces of the men as they sang. Soon it would be gone, and the shadows would wrap us round as with a mantle.” But those Englishmen in France sang their faith and prayer:

Hymn Discussion at Oyster Bay

Captain Archibald W. Butt, personal aide to President Theodore Roosevelt, spending a week-end at the Roosevelt residence in Oyster Bay, N. Y., accompanied the family to a morning service of worship on July 27, 1908, at the Episcopal Church. Mrs. Roosevelt was a member of this church. Mr. Roosevelt was a member of the Dutch Reformed Church, but when in Oyster Bay he used to worship with the family; and so, on this occasion, he took Captain Butt, also an Episcopalian, with him. Later in the day Captain Butt referred to the hymns sung in the service, and, being from the South, made this observation: “I think the South likes strong, sentimental hymns, while every one which was sung at Oyster Bay had some poetic value.”

Theodore Roosevelt sang hymns with zest, and enjoyed variety. On this day, however, he declared that his favorite hymn was:

This is a translation from an old Latin hymn by Dr. John Mason Neale. Information concerning this hymn by Dr. Charles S. Robinson is as follows: “It is more popular in England than it is on this side of the water, except, perhaps, among Episcopalians, who, as a denomination, seem very fond of it. It is used for corner-stone services, and for dedications and the like, with much acceptance.”

was given by Mr. Roosevelt as his next choice. But he also expressed admiration for “Jerusalem the Golden,” and very naturally for a man of his type:

Mrs. Roosevelt, on the other hand, named as her choice:

and also:

“For the first time I realized that I had no favorite hymn,” said Captain Butt in a letter which he wrote to his mother that very night; and which, fortunately, has been preserved in “The Letters of Archie Butt.” He added: “I have thought of it during the day, and I believe that I shall take ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee,’ as my favorite. It appeals to the sentimental side of me at least.”

“I think I should like to have sung at my funeral, ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee,’” said Butt in this letter. Singularly enough, this was the last music which he heard played before he died. He was drowned when the Titanic sank; and the ship’s band, which had been playing popular music during the fateful period after the great ship had struck an iceberg on a Sunday night, rendered as its last selection, when the boat was going down and carrying hundreds of the passengers and crew to a swift death in the Atlantic:

The following interesting observation, which I have not elsewhere seen, is made by Lawrence F. Abbott, who edited “The Letters of Archie Butt”: “It is said by survivors of the Titanic that as the ship was going down Captain Butt ordered the band to play the music of this hymn.”

Most fruitful was the discussion of hymns held at Oyster Bay on that July Sunday afternoon and evening. As a result we know the first choice of Theodore Roosevelt of the many hymns he loved; the hymns which most appealed to Mrs. Roosevelt; and on that eventful day Archibald Butt made his decision in favor of the hymn which went with him to his death in the Atlantic Ocean.

CHAPTER IV
SERENADING THE SOUL WITH SONG

“In London Town there are always queer, unexpected things to be seen and heard. The other day my wife and I went out to lunch, and we were waiting in a queue. Suddenly above the noise of the busy street we heard a tin whistle being played. The tune was ‘O Jesus, I have promised’—and it was played very well, too. This was followed by ... ‘Jerusalem the golden.’ I looked, but couldn’t see the musician.

“The queue moved up, and I was afraid I wasn’t going to see the tin whistle expert at all. But just as we got level with the door I did see him. He was now giving a spirited rendering of ‘The Church’s one foundation’—and he was a grey-headed old Negro. He wore what had been a very smartly cut officer’s tunic. The tune finished, the old fellow sat down on a doorstep.

“Where, I wondered, had he learned these hymn-tunes? And where had that Lascar seaman in the street in West Hartlepool learnt ‘There’s a Friend for Little Children?’—for he was humming it as he passed me by.” —F. H. E. in “The Methodist Recorder,” London.

Nothing is more beautiful than the sight of a company of Christians singing their hymns of praise. —Roy L. Smith.

That Was Yesterday!

“Why, Samuel!” exclaimed the surprised wife of the beloved Bishop Samuel Fallows, one morning.

The story as related by Dr. Roy L. Smith referred to a night when the ageing bishop returned from a rather stormy meeting. Harsh things had been said, and he appeared thoroughly discouraged. Entering the home, his wife, with womanly instinct, sensed the situation. The bishop even went to bed without partaking of his usual cup of hot milk.

Full of understanding sympathy, his wife expected him to remain in bed a little later than usual, and possibly have breakfast taken to him. But when she quietly entered his room, he was pulling the “weights of his ancient exercise machine.” Meanwhile he was singing:

All this was so unexpected that the good and anxious woman, in her astonishment, could only say, “Why, Samuel!”

“Why what?” questioned the bishop, without missing a beat in the rhythm of his morning exercise.

“Why that board meeting last night. I thought you would stay in bed this morning, and try to get a bit of rest.”

“That board meeting, what about it?” he asked, as he came to a halt.

“Why it must have been terrible. You came home utterly spent and discouraged,” was the reply.

Resuming his exercise, the bishop quietly remarked, “O that was yesterday.”

The gentle man would not permit what happened yesterday to take from him his praiseful song.

Therefore as he continued to pull his exercise machine he resumed the singing of his hymn:

Song of the Hidden Singer

A woman of culture was standing in a large London store waiting to be served. The customers were many, and some of them became impatient. Tired and irritated, occasionally someone would make an unpleasant remark.

Somewhere up toward the roof, a workman, invisible to the one who narrated the incident, was busy making structural alterations. Said Mrs. G. Elsie Harrison: “As he worked above us, like some ham-strung lark, he carolled.” The notes that fluttered down to her were:

Old memories were revived by the song. Mrs. Harrison thus indicated her own experience: “In one moment the arrogant shoppers had vanished. I was at home again, and saw my mother at the piano, and heard the music which only she could make to sound so reverent. Her generation really meant it when they sang:

To them it was a real sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, and the music matched the mood.

Popular with older people, this hymn of Miss Katherine Hankey, an English lady, has also been a favorite with children. The tune to which it is mostly sung was composed by William H. Doane, an American musician.

The London singer was hidden, and singing just for himself. But the song brought back beautiful memories to at least one woman amid the crowd of shoppers.

Americans Sang with the Japanese Lady

A lady from Japan, Madame Yoshika Saitó, Tokyo, was one of the distinguished visitors to the historic Uniting Conference of The Methodist Church in Kansas City, May, 1939. She was introduced by Dr. James R. Houghton, Boston University, who had charge of the music; and Dr. Houghton announced that the visitor would sing “Alleluia” by Mozart.

Dr. Robert Bond, a former president of the Methodist Conference, England, was so impressed by the Japanese lady that he wrote back to one of the periodicals of his native England saying: “Madame Saitó, both by her personal charm and her exquisite voice, captured the Conference.

Madame Saitó, responsive to the purpose and the spiritual atmosphere of the Uniting Conference, then followed with the verse of a hymn, which she sang both in her native tongue and also in English:

Bishop Charles L. Mead, the presiding officer, suggested that the Uniting Conference would probably like to sing the verse and the chorus with the visitor. Soon the Japanese lady, the nine hundred delegates, and thousands of visitors were singing together:

“It was one of those rare moments,” said Dr. Bond to his English readers, “when a great tide of emotions sweeps over a big assembly and carries it out of itself.”

Northfield’s Festival of Sacred Music

The Northfield Festival of Sacred Music when introduced into the program of the Northfield General Conference in the decade preceding World War II proved to be a thrilling moving event. Coming on the closing Sunday of the many summer programs, it brought immense crowds to the annual gathering at East Northfield which D. L. Moody made so popular by the list of distinguished speakers that he enlisted from British and American pulpits and educational institutions.

The fact that the Westminster Choir Summer School was holding its sessions at Mount Hermon, just a short distance across the river, with Dr. John Finley Williamson at its head, made possible Northfield’s festival of sacred music. Choirs from neighboring communities united with the group at the summer school, and for six weeks five hundred singers prepared for the memorable occasion.

Twice the writer was in attendance. Much alike each year, yet particular interest attached itself to 1937. This was the season of the D. L. Moody Centenary Celebration, and the fifty-eighth session of the Northfield General Conference. The Festival Choir was divided into a few different groups for various purposes. Yet when the hymns were sung these all participated, and the audience was invited to join them.

Within five minutes after the entrances were opened the great auditorium was filled. People also stood in a solid line near the walls. Newspapers reported that about two thousand additional people also stood outside in the hot sun during the rendering of the program, a part of which was broadcast.

The audience, inside and outside the building, had its first opportunity to sing when they united in Luther’s soul-stirring hymn:

The singing company made the most of it. “The very walls shook,” said my friend in the next seat.

The next hymn selection was that which came from Toplady. This the audience knew well, and sang with affectionate enthusiasm:

Happy was the surprise which came with the next hymn. Mrs. W. R. Moody, daughter-in-law of D. L. Moody, seated herself at the keyboard of a small instrument which, before it was opened up, looked like a big packing case. Really it was the small organ which accompanied Moody and Sankey during their nation-wide evangelistic campaigns; for the latter always wanted, if possible, to have his own instrument with him. Hence the little organ was made for this purpose. The instrument had been on display in the Moody exhibit at Moody’s boyhood home during the special days of the Moody Centennial. Visitors could there sit in the spacious chair used by Moody himself, sign their names; and, by permission, play on Sankey’s organ. Musicians loved to do so. The Westminster singers now rendered the beloved gospel song:

Joy beamed on the countenance of Mrs. Moody as she led the singers on the historic little organ; and the song continued through the lines:

The conductor at this point gave a signal to the enraptured audience, and everybody joined the special singers in the triumphant lines:

This musical climax was dramatic. The great company had evidently coveted the privilege of singing with Sankey’s organ, and particularly in joining in this song. Now it came, and they made the most of it. “Singing such as that I never expect to hear again this side of heaven,” said a woman whose soul had caught a vision of the lost sheep which had, at last, been found.

Just one more hymn remained to be sung before the Choral Benediction of Peter Lutkin was rendered by the great chorus. This was the familiar hymn of Isaac Watts, which we sang to the tune of Hamburg:

“Both hymn and tune are universal favorites,” affirmed Dr. Charles A. Boyd after he examined sixteen hymnals and found the hymn in each of them. In all but two it was set to Hamburg.

Three verses of the hymn were sung, as requested, very softly. Then the last verse was sung louder, until, in mighty volume, the long-remembered service closed with the lines of personal consecration:

CHAPTER V
HYMNS OF COMFORT

When I received word of the death of my son, in a distant land, I turned to your book of hymn stories, and was comforted.—From the personal letter of a friend.

In the darkest hours of the war Mr. Winston Churchill (then prime minister) would steal away an hour or two to hear the songs he loves.—The British Weekly.

“When I cannot sleep at night I silently repeat hymns,” once said Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster to a caller. First in the list, she intimated, was the cherished hymn of John Newton, who “loved much because he was forgiven much”:

God’s Angels in Charge

A characteristic of Alice Freeman Palmer, who at the age of twenty-six became the President of Wellesley College, was her calmness. What would terrify another would leave her undisturbed. From her early girlhood she had learned the lesson of Christian trustfulness. Her husband, Dr. George Herbert Palmer, who wrote the story of her life, records the fact that one day, while at her summer home at Boxford, she was ill in bed. A thunderstorm came swiftly out of the southwest and struck the house, and the room next to her own was destroyed. “She seemed at the time much interested in the novel event, as if it were something contrived for her entertainment.” After her death, however, he found among her papers a hymn with that date attached. This was sung at the memorial service held in Harvard Chapel; and Doctor Palmer printed it under the title of “The Tempest.” Suggestions from the Psalms find expression in this poem, and the opening lines conform closely to Psalm 91:11, which reads:

The hymn of Mrs. Palmer reveals a spirit of confidence in the power and love of God, and she felt comforted by the fact that she could nestle into the strong arms of God. These are her words:

Singing Welshmen at Oxford

A scene which greatly impressed him was related by Frederick M. Davenport, a former member of congress, when he returned from a trip to England late in the summer of 1937. Mentioning the distressed area of the coal district of South Wales, he said:

“As we were leaving Oxford one morning there appeared on the station platform about a hundred young Welshmen between eighteen and twenty years of age. They were dressed in the garb of manual laborers, and held rough baggage in their hands. Their home was in South Wales, but they had been in Oxford working on a government project and were leaving for a holiday.

“Nearly all Welsh are singers, and these young men were no exception. After a few jolly songs directed at their leaders, as their train was nearly due to leave they massed themselves together and sang magnificently:

“‘Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah,

Pilgrim through this barren land;

I am weak, but Thou art mighty;

Hold me with Thy powerful hand;

Bread of heaven,

Feed me till I want no more.’

“For the time being they were unemployed at home,... but they were full of confidence and good will.”

This hymn, “a genuine heart song,” comes from Welsh sources; and one of the tunes to which it is sung, “Cwm Rhondda,” composed by a Welshman, is a favorite among Welsh people.

The group of young Welshmen who sang in Oxford that day, while some Americans were among the listeners, showed a courageous spirit, a love of hymns, and a devotional attitude. Doubtless their song was a prayer of the heart:

Singing Amid Suffering

“She truly learned in suffering what she taught in song,” someone remarked concerning the author of the hymn:

The Rev. J. H. Jowett, D.D., the great expository preacher who left his Birmingham pastorate in England to serve the Fifth Avenue pastorate in New York City during the second decade of the twentieth century, made this his favorite hymn. Few knew hymns, especially of a devotional nature, better than he.

This hymn came from the pen and heart of Jane Fox Crewdson. Cornwall was her birthplace, 1809; but after her marriage to a merchant of Manchester at the age of 27, she lived her life in that city until her death in 1863. Many years of her life were spent in the sick room. Gifted with poetic talent, she wrote many poems and hymns. Most of these were “composed amid paroxysms of pain.”

Most appropriately did a Presbyterian minister in an American city, where he had served for 24 years, select this hymn for Memorial Day Sunday in 1947. At the entrance to the building a member of the church had placed a basket of lovely flowers before the bronze tablet which recorded the names of men who had served in the World Wars. Comforting must have been the words of Mrs. Crewdson’s hymn to those who had suffered the loss of those dear to them in the war period:

Not simply in the land where the author lived and wrote are her hymns found, but this one also appears in The Hymnal (Presbyterian) in the United States and The Hymnary of The United Church of Canada. Dr. James Moffatt quotes from an unnamed author this testimony relating to the writer: “As a constant sufferer, the spiritual life deepening, and the intellectual life retaining all its power, she became well prepared to testify to the all-sufficiency of her Saviour’s love.” Hence we can appreciate what has been said concerning the third verse, namely, “There is infinite pathos packed into these lines:

Songs of a Sorrowing Nation

“You can tell the kind of a man he was from the hymns he loved. Our organist and our choir know. He felt those hymns inwardly.” These words were spoken by the 78-year-old rector, the Rev. George W. Anthony, at the morning service of worship conducted by him on Sunday, April 15, 1945, in St. James Episcopal Church at Hyde Park, N. Y., within a few minutes after President Franklin D. Roosevelt was laid to rest in the “rose garden” on his own estate.

Probably never before did the people of the United States hear so many of the hymns of the Christian Church played so frequently as during those days of sorrowing for the President of the nation who died suddenly on April 12. They began to be heard soon after the first announcement was made to a stunned people, and continued until Sunday, the 15th, when the beloved leader was buried amid the scenes he loved. Commercial programs were cancelled, and the radio devoted itself to news concerning the passing of the president and events thereto related. “The Star-Spangled Banner” and familiar hymns, mostly the favorites of President Roosevelt, were frequently heard.

Hymns were intimately associated with each movement of the body as it made its journey from Warm Springs, Georgia, where the president died, until it reached its final resting-place. When on Friday the folks of the community assembled to witness the departure of the train which would carry him to Washington Chief Petty Officer Graham Jackson, a Negro, who was a favorite with Mr. Roosevelt, stepped from the circle of mourners. He had with him his accordion which Mr. Roosevelt loved to hear him play. Now, as a last tribute, he “played the haunting strains of ‘Going Home’ from the New World Symphony. Then he played, ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee.’”

Great crowds gathered to witness the passing of the train which bore the body toward Washington. They were reverent and tearful. A rather striking incident occurred at Charlotte, N. C., where the train moved slowly through the station without stopping. Street intersections were thronged for blocks with mourners. The silence was broken as the train passed by a troop of assembled Boy Scouts who started to sing, “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” and “the crowd took up the hymn in a ringing chorus.”

When the caisson which bore the body from the railroad station at Washington halted “before the main white-columned portico the casket was borne into the White House by uniformed members of the armed services.” The Navy Band played “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Then, outside on the lawn, “a service band played an old tune, ‘Abide with Me.’”

The U. S. Marine Band which was present when the train arrived at Washington followed the national anthem with “The Old Rugged Cross” as the casket was placed on the black-draped military caisson.

Because the hymns used at the funeral service in the White House on the afternoon of Saturday, April 14, were familiar, The Right Rev. Angus Dun, Episcopal Bishop of Washington, who was in charge, with other clergymen assisting, mentioned the fact that these hymns were favorites of Mr. Roosevelt, and invited the assembled company to join in the singing. The Navy Hymn, “Eternal Father, Strong to Save,” and “Faith of Our Fathers” were sung at this time.

Next day the body of President Roosevelt was back in Hyde Park. The great chieftain had reached journey’s end. “Between the manor house and the new library is the rose garden where the grave has been dug,” said The New York Times. And there at ten o’clock on Sunday morning was brought the body of the man who loved to visit this garden when the flowers, especially the roses, were sending forth their beauty and their fragrance. Probably it was because of this fact that many radio programs and church services placed in their musical programs the familiar sacred song:

At the head of the procession in Hyde Park, as the body was taken from the train to its resting-place, was the Army band from West Point, with “its members in uniforms composed of dark blue tunic, lighter blue trousers with white stripes. Their silver instruments gleamed.” First there were the sounds of muffled drums. Then the band took up Chopin’s “Funeral March.” Six hundred West Pointers “formed a solid phalanx facing the grave from the west. The brief rites were conducted by the Rev. George W. Anthony, the venerable rector. It was brief and simple. As the body was lowered into the grave he intoned the opening lines of the widely used hymn of John Ellerton:

“Hymns had been the life-long study and delight” of Ellerton (1826-93), an English Clergyman of the Episcopal Church.

A file of West Pointers fired three volleys. “As the last volley sounded, as if it were one shot, muffled drums beat again. At the head of the grave a bugler sounded taps.” Then, as Stevenson wrote, “Here he lies where he longed to be.”

The hour of morning worship in St. James’ Church was near, and so many of the people went to the little church for the 11 o’clock service. The building was crowded. But “the Roosevelt pew was empty. Here Franklin Roosevelt sat, boy and man, for almost sixty years.” An American flag marked the pew on this day. Congregation and choir sang, “How Firm a Foundation.” When he announced “O Master, Let Me Walk With Thee,” the clergyman stated, as he glanced toward the Roosevelt pew, that the hymns selected were loved by Mr. Roosevelt. “He is now at rest in the community which he loved,” said the speaker.

The next hymn sung is not widely known in this country outside the Episcopal Church, though it is found in The Church Hymnary, Scotland. Its author was Arthur Campbell Ainger (1841-1919), who after his graduation from Cambridge University spent most of his life in teaching at Eton. He was “one of the most distinguished of Eton masters, a man of clear head, controlling character, wide accomplishments,” and he also wrote several hymns. The hymn begins: