“Hearts have been deeply stirred by the use of this hymn at the monthly consecration service of Christian Endeavor societies, for which it was evidently designed,” we are told. It was a good hymn for the Scouts to sing on that winter morning.

“Jesus Bids Us Shine”

This large family lived about equi-distant from four towns on a quiet inaccessible rented farm along the river. It was while I was visiting the country school that I first got acquainted with some of the children. They told me about their youngest sister, who had had infantile paralysis. After getting rather minute directions from the older brother, I finally found the isolated farm home.

Alice was five years old and as bright and as ardent a little child as I ever knew. She was very easy to make friends with and I soon began to teach her the first verse of the children’s song, “Jesus Bids Us Shine.” When I came to the line, “You in your small corner, and I in mine,” I would point first at her and then at myself. She got a great “kick” out of this and set herself to learn the words and the tune. I visited with the older folks a while, went out to the barn with the farmer to look at his stock, ate dinner with the family, but in between times I kept trying to teach little Alice the first verse of that song. Finally she could sing it with the assistance of her older sister.

About a year later I went out to the Anderson home but found that Alice had been taken for treatment to the children’s hospital at the University. I went back a year later, and this time I found that an ambulance had come after her that very morning. Perhaps six months later, I was again slowly taking the deeply-rutted road. She came limping toward me as fast as she could, which was not very fast. Hobbling down the lane on her one good leg with the aid of a considerably improved other leg, she called out to me with ardent pride, “I can sing that song. I can sing that song!”

And she could:

And she didn’t forget to point at me either!

Men Loved the Kiddies’ Hymn

“I have seen an officer in mid-years almost break down in tears because I casually quoted the ... hymn:

Such was the testimony of Chaplain Thomas Tiplady, who was with the British forces in France during World War I. He gives the reason for this when he says that the man’s mother had for several years repeated the hymn to him every evening.

But most of the soldiers liked this hymn. Particularly impressive is the account given of the time when the men assembled for worship in a little church at Achicourt, about a mile out of Arras. There the men often gathered, even though the building had been badly shattered. A final service was held, and the benediction had been pronounced. Then the chaplain said: “Before we part and before we leave Achicourt which has meant so much to us of joy and sorrow, let us sing a kiddies’ hymn.” It was not in their books, but the leader read it verse by verse, and the men sang. One may easily imagine their deep feelings as they united in the words:

The testimony of the chaplain to the effects produced by that hymn is as follows: “I have witnessed many moving sights in my time and heard much deep and thrilling music but I have never been so deeply moved by anything as by the deep, rich voices of these gallant men and boys who, after winning the Battle of Arras, had come into this ruined church and were singing this beautiful kiddies’ hymn as their last farewell.”

CHAPTER IX
SANG IN THEIR OWN TONGUES

What seems to me important and inspiring is that in hours of deep religious emotion Christian faith in different nations should find expression in the same words.

—The Christian Advocate.

Wondrous power of music!...

It touches the chords of memory, and brings back the happy scenes of the past.

In the rude mining camp, cut off by the snows of winter, in the narrow cabin of the ship ice-bound in the Arctic seas, in the bare, dark rooms of the war-prison where the captive soldiers are trying to beguile the heavy time in company, tears steal down the rough cheeks when some one strikes up the familiar notes of “Home, Sweet Home.” ...

It borrows the comfort of hope.

It drops the threads of sorrow one by one, and catches the beams of light reflected from the future, and weaves them in among its harmonies, blending, brightening, softening the mystic web, until we are enclosed, we know not how, in a garment of consolation, and the cold, tired heart finds itself warmed, and rested, and filled with courage.

Most gracious ministry of music!

—“Six Days in the Week,” by Henry van Dyke (Charles Scribner’s Sons).

Chinese and Americans Sang a Negro Spiritual

The distinguished Negro musician who was the guest of honor of The Hymn Society of America at its spring meeting, in 1944, was Dr. Harry T. Burleigh, who had then been associated for half a century with the music of St. George’s Church, New York City. This prominent man began by tracing his love of music to his mother, and also his blind grandfather, who taught him many, many of the old Negro melodies when a lad. Then, perseveringly, he won a scholarship at the National Conservatory of Music in New York.

After relating how much of his time had been devoted to the task of arranging and composing Negro spirituals he sat at the piano and thrilled his audience as he sang these beautiful songs: “Weeping Mary,” “Go Down in the Lonesome Valley to Meet Your Saviour There,” “I’m Seeking for a City, Hallelujah!” “Lord, I Want to be a Christian.”

Happily there was present that day the Rev. Timothy Tingfang Lew, professor at Yengching University, Chengtu, West China. He narrated how there was produced in China a common hymnal for the leading evangelical churches, and stated that “the present Chinese hymnbook, ‘Hymns of Universal Praise,’ was the result of effective team-work.” Included in this book was, he indicated, “Lord, I Want to Be a Christian,” and suggested that they all sing it with Dr. Burleigh. Everybody liked the idea.

Two Chinese missionaries were accompanying Dr. and Mrs. Lew; so these four sang it in the Chinese language, while the others sang in English. Thus their voices blended in one of the beloved spirituals of the Negro race, while they were accompanied by a Negro on the piano.

Writers of hymns, composers of tunes, church organists and choir leaders were in that company of men and women who joyfully sang the verses of that beloved spiritual, and their faces were radiant as they came to the words:

The entire company felt and affirmed that the effect was most touching.

When the United States entered World War II five leaders of the Salvation Army, who knew what American youth liked to sing, and what is also profitable for them, made a small selection of hymns for the use of the armed forces in both their religious services and social gatherings. That thin little book wisely contained the appealing spiritual:

Thus it went around the world with our American lads. The people of Great Britain, the newspapers affirmed, became greatly attached to it, and particularly enjoyed hearing it sung by the colored soldiers.

Christmas Carols in Two Tongues

“It required an attentive ear to notice that the singing was in two languages at once,” said a reporter in The New York Times when he gave a vivid description of the Christmas service conducted in the First Chinese Church in New York City on the Sunday following Christmas Day, in 1946. Children took a very prominent part, especially in the rendering of Christmas music.

The building was decorated in the traditional fashion. Both the United States flag and that of the Chinese were displayed, and between them was a white banner with “red cut-out characters saying ‘Merry Christmas’ in Chinese.” Various Christmas exercises were rendered, and then a speaker emphasized the fact that Christmas belongs to everybody.

Together they sang, “The First Noel” and “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.”

Before the service closed the “two stars of the program, small brothers,” sang the lovely hymn attributed to Martin Luther:

“It was a big day for these Chinese children and their parents,” commented the reporter. For many visitors, also, it was a time of happiness. The joyful strains of Christmas music make human hearts glad wherever the story of the Christ Child is told.

“Everybody Knows ‘Holy Night’”

“Can we not sing something together?” This was the question asked in the days of the First World War at a gathering in the Young Women’s Christian Association in Boston.

“Why,” someone exclaimed, “how can we?” Then she added, “There is no language which all of us speak.”

The answer appeared to be discouragingly decisive until a French girl made a happy suggestion. “But tunes,” said she, “are the same, and there ought to be a tune which we all know, even if we have to sing different words.”

“Everybody knows ‘Holy Night,’” remarked a young woman of large musical ability, born in Russia. Her parentage was English and German, and she had cousins in each of the three nations. She sat down at the piano and began to play the song.

An American concert singer with a rare voice, invited in for the occasion, stood by her and led. Those who spoke English began to sing:

One after another others joined, and soon, French, Swiss, German, Austrian, Belgian, Pole, Russian and Italian were all singing together the same message to the same music—but each in her own tongue.

“If we all start from Christ,” said Henry Churchill King, who once related this incident, “the nations can come into harmony, even though each sings in its own tongue.”

Unifying Influence of Song at Eastertide

The spirit of Easter has an exhilarating effect on all peoples in Christian lands. The following from the news columns of The New York Times on Easter Monday (April 26, 1943) indicates that representatives of various nationalities entered into the joy of the festive season. Among the many services described that day was the sunrise service at Central Park, as follows:

More than 6,000 persons gathered for the annual service on the Mall in Central Park at 7 A.M. A group of Waves and Spars and members of the Marine Corps Auxiliary served as ushers. The services were principally musical, with the singing of Easter hymns by various foreign-language groups, as well as hymns in English.

The services were opened with the singing of “The Star-Spangled Banner” by Miss Lucy Monroe, accompanied by the Maritime Band, and continued with the singing of hymns by choirs from foreign-language churches in the metropolitan area. Twelve Mohawk Indians in tribal regalia, the choir of the Cuyler Presbyterian Church, Brooklyn, sang “Up From the Grave He Rose,” and a group of sixteen Chinese children sang the same hymn in their native tongue.

The choir of the Russian Evangelical Pentecostal Church sang the hymn, “He Arose From the Dead,” in Russian, and “He Lives” was sung by an Italian choir led by the Rev. D. Lisciandrello, pastor of Calvary Church, Brooklyn.

Other foreign language groups participating included the Syrian Protestant Church, Brooklyn; the Spanish Christian Church, and a Polish choir.

People of many lands, therefore, sang in their own tongue the glad story of the resurrection of Christ.

CHAPTER X
PATRIOTIC MUSIC IN WAR AND PEACE

Soldier voices were heard singing in the crypt of St. Paul’s Cathedral on July 4, 1941. Strangely, as though protected by Divine Providence, this historic building was still standing though surrounding London had been destructively bombed and was mostly in ruins. But on that memorable day there was unveiled a memorial tablet to Billy Fiske, the first American to give his life in World War II. Fliers from his own squadron and some other American volunteers were the singers. “Standing together in the candle-lit dusk,” said Alexander Woolcott, “this symbolic group of Anglo-American courage sang Billy Fiske to his rest with the words:

A surprise awaited Mrs. F. D. Roosevelt on a September day, in 1943, according to a report of the Associated Press, when she walked into a room for youthful sufferers from infantile paralysis in the Melbourne Child’s Hospital. Mrs. Roosevelt was in Australia at that time visiting the American troops, but she was also interested in these youthful patients.

There she saw, as she entered, “Thirteen-year-old Briar Dean holding a harmonica in his one usable hand, and playing America’s national anthem.” When he halted his music, Mrs. Roosevelt, attracted by the unusual scene, walked directly to the youngster and asked him to play for her. So he started over, and played through a verse, and the chorus.

“Four generals, one admiral, and numerous other gold-braided men, stood at attention,” according to the correspondent who narrated the memorable event for his American readers.

Surprise for American Soldiers

“It was the Fourth of July in this joint British and American Officers’ training camp,” said an Associated Press report from “an officers’ training camp” in North Africa on July 5, 1943. No announcement, however, was posted concerning a Fourth of July celebration. “The camp was to follow its regular routine. There would be a route march at five o’clock.”

The hour of five came and the men fell in on the parade ground, and started up the trail. It was observed that the American general was making the march, but no British officers were seen. “It’s our holiday, and they get the day off. Can you beat it?” Thus murmured the Americans.

“The trail led through a grove winding up and down the slopes of the mountain,” said the correspondent. “The sun was nearly down when they emerged into a clearing.

“Just ahead, in an open space among the trees, the British officers were lined up in two files. They were singing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’ An American flag waved above their heads.”

Such was the tersely vivid account of a dramatic moment in the lives of British and American soldiers in North Africa during an important period in the history of World War II.

“America the Beautiful” Heard at Arlington

“The Unknown Soldier and his legions of sleeping comrades were honored anew in this national cemetery today—with fresh flowers and a solemn promise,” said an Associated Press report from the Arlington National Cemetery on May 30, 1943. “The Memorial Day crowd,” it added, “came from every direction through the oak-shaded walks of the cemetery, sobered by the sight of fresh graves among the sod-covered resting places of earlier veterans.”

Taps were sounded by a marine corps bugler, and all conversation ceased. President F. D. Roosevelt’s wreath was laid on the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Representatives of veterans’ organizations and their auxiliaries, dressed in vivid uniforms, then deposited wreath after wreath at the base of the white monument.

The “solemn promise” mentioned was given by Lt.-Gen. Brehon B. Somervell who made this declaration: “To the nameless soldier here before us in this marble tomb and through him to all his comrades, wherever they may lie, we make this promise:

“With them we enter into an earnest covenant that we will carry on the fight, against whatever odds and however long it takes, until justice and decency and human liberty are re-established throughout the earth.”

“America the Beautiful” was distinctly heard as the people moved quietly into the classic marble amphitheater, as the carillon at Fort Myer, nearby, gave forth the music of the beloved patriotic song of Katharine Lee Bates—

An American Home on Invasion Day

As a nation we had looked upon the war as a gigantic business proposition which we could manage with our own resources: production, government agencies, organization and training. Then came D-Day, and for the first time we drew upon our reserve.

The first hour in the morning runs strictly to schedule in our household since this is the only way to avoid confusion when the children are getting ready for school as Dad leaves for the office. As soon as I go downstairs, I turn the radio to the musical clock program in order to check our progress.

Each morning a recording blares out, “O, What a Beautiful Morning!” But on June 6 I heard an organ pealing forth “Finlandia”—“Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side.” And then I knew before seeing the paper on the front porch that the headline would be “Invasion!”

Each minute of this day was so filled with destiny that it seemed of little importance to note their individual passing: so, without the customary pause for announcing the time, the melody changed to “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” Our boys were crossing the channel in the presence of that other Son who had suffered and died, that those he loved might live fully.

The muted organ almost whispered “Rock of Ages” as parents knelt at home under the sheltering arms of that other Father, whose heart had bled with each thrust of the spear. “Let me hide myself in Thee” was the message. Those parents do not care that it is a beautiful morning. It makes no difference that the hands on the clock say that it is seven-fifteen. “Simply to Thy cross I cling” was their solace.

And then the organ led in prayer, the prayer that filled the hearts of the sons approaching the beachheads, and the parents in their Gethsemane:

For the first time voices joined the melody of the organ. Strong, confident, courageous voices ringing forth the affirmation, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” And then the triumphant, trumpet-like tones of the organ, sounding their notes of gratitude to the “God of our Fathers,” whose strong arm is “our ever sure defense ... from war’s alarms, from deadly pestilence.”

In that moment, I murmured a prayer of gratitude that my parents had taught me the words of these hymns so that my thoughts had been led by the organ melodies to my personal unlimited reserves, that represent the rightful heritage of a child of God.

For my two children June 6, 1944, will soon have become another date to learn from the pages of a history book. I cannot know when their H-Hour will come. But I do know their reserves will make them more than victorious because theirs is the greatest inheritance in the universe—the “Faith of our Fathers.”

—Charlotte A. Young in “The Christian Advocate,” June 29, 1944. Used by permission.

“Our God is Marching On!”

“The most solemn day in American history,” was June 6, 1944, according to one editor. This was known as “D day,” and was the day of the invasion of the coast of Normandy by the Allied nations engaged in a mighty and deadly struggle with Germany.

This day was anticipated for many weeks. It was known that the United States and Great Britain would unite in striking the enemy at a season and a place when and where the blow would be considered to be most effective. Only a few statesmen and high-ranking military authorities, however, knew in advance just when that day would come. One outstanding aim, of course, was to surprise the enemy. A mighty military machine had been built for the purpose; and, on the other hand, the enemy, in ignorance of the secret of time and place, had done its utmost to mass its forces and arrange its protective material where it was hoped that they would be most effective.

Churches and communities arranged to ring their church bells and give other signals as soon as the news of the invasion was received, so that the people might learn of the fateful hour and join in prayer. Churches also arranged to open their buildings, and ministers planned for gatherings for prayer. These features were generally observed. Then at ten o’clock at night, President F. D. Roosevelt, who the previous evening addressed the nation on the fall of Rome, led the nation in prayer. Probably never so many people in the United States listened to the President at the same time as on that occasion. “In this poignant hour, I ask you to join with me in prayer,” said he to those, who, all over the nation, were listening. Then he began:

“Almighty God: Our sons, pride of our nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our republic, our religion and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity.

“Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.”

The prayer was inclusive, and men and women mostly listened to it as they sat in their own homes—homes from which their loved ones had gone forth to fight for freedom. Then came the closing words:

“Thy will be done, Almighty God. Amen.”

Millions of eyes were moistened by tears at that hushed moment. The pause was brief. Then from the radio came voices reverently singing:

Another selection was rendered, and then, most appropriately, came the song of the beloved Julia Ward Howe:

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,” concerning which said one newspaper columnist the next day, “more than any other song of any time this strikes deeply home at this hour.” How impressive was that refrain toward the close of this historic day:

The second verse was rendered as a solo:

A male voice rendered one verse and a woman’s voice another. The chorus refrain was each time sung by the entire chorus. Also, they all united in the closing verse. How unforgettably impressive was this!

“The Star-Spangled Banner” at War’s End

“It’s going to be a long war, and it is going to be a tough war,” said Franklin D. Roosevelt, when he appeared before Congress on December 8, 1941, to ask for a declaration of war with Japan after that nation had attacked the United States. The President was speaking that day in a prophetic strain. He was right. The war was both “long” and “tough.” The wartime generation, of World War II, will long remember the anxiety and sacrifice of those days, as with grim determination our youth fought and our people labored unitedly to win a priceless victory. Not until September, 1945, did peace return to our land.

“The Stars and Stripes were raised over ancient Tokio today as General MacArthur formally established authority over Japan’s battered capital in the name of the United States,” were the words which appeared on the front page of some of our newspapers on September 8, 1945. This account of what happened was printed in The New York Times. It was written by Frank L. Kluckhorn: “Standing alone before Lt.-Gen. Robert Eichelberger, commander of the 8th army, which is garrisoning Tokio, MacArthur said: ‘Gen. Eichelberger, have our country’s flag unfurled, and in Tokio’s sun let it wave in its full glory as a symbol of hope for the oppressed and as a harbinger of victory for the right.’

“Eichelberger saluted, repeated the order, and the band played the national anthem. As the guard of honor and the others present saluted, the flag was raised on the pole where it can be seen from much of Tokio. The chaplain of the First Cavalry Division gave the benediction, and the ceremony was over.” But how thrilling and unforgettable must it have been to have listened to the strains of “The Star-Spangled Banner” in that momentous hour!

A news item observed that the American flag unfurled on this occasion was the very flag that floated over the Capitol in Washington on December 7, 1941. This was the day when we were attacked by the Japanese.

Vauntingly the Japanese had declared, it was reported, that peace terms would be signed in the White House in Washington. Far different, however, was the reality. The terms of the “unconditional surrender” of Japan were made known, and the ceremonies relating to the signing of the same were observed on board the battleship Missouri in Tokio Bay. These were reported in the morning papers of September 3, 1945, though millions of citizens in the United States heard them over the radio the previous night. We were told that the “Missouri’s band outdid itself providing music, playing ‘Anchors Aweigh’ ... and ‘The Stars and Stripes Forever.’ A bugler sounded ‘Taps’ in memory of the gallant band of men and women who had gone into the great conflict with mighty forces with the hopeful feeling that

Thus the national anthem was played at the hour of the formal surrender of Japan on the Missouri and also when General MacArthur set up power in Tokio, “and the same historic flag was flown on both occasions.” The Star-Spangled Banner always has a special appeal when it is rendered in the presence of the Stars and Stripes. Our national anthem had gone with the nation from peace to war and from war to peace.

Kipling’s “Recessional”

“Perhaps the greatest single production of Rudyard Kipling’s pen,” remarked Nutter and Tillett concerning “The Recessional.” It is a hymn of majestic greatness, and one can easily imagine the deep impression it must have made when heard in Westminster Abbey on the day when the body of the brilliant author was placed in that historic shrine. The honor of being buried there, with the great of the nation, was well deserved.

“The Recessional” was published in the London Times, July 17, 1897; and it was written in celebration of the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria. The very next year it appeared in a hymnal published by the American Baptist Publication Society. Since then it has appeared in many hymnals, and has frequently been sung on great patriotic occasions.

Fortunately the author has told us how the hymn came to be written. Said he: “That poem gave me more trouble than anything I ever wrote. I had promised the Times a poem on the Jubilee; and when it became due, I had written nothing that had satisfied me. The Times began to want that poem badly and sent letter after letter asking for it. I made many more attempts but no further progress. Finally the Times began sending telegrams. So I shut myself in a room with the determination to stay there until I had written a Jubilee poem. Sitting down with all my previous attempts before me, I searched through those dozens of sketches till at last I found one line I liked. That was ‘Lest We Forget.’ Round these words ‘the Recessional’ was written.”

A majestic strain pervades the hymn. Its deep solemnity reminds one of some of the language of the Old Testament prophet. One thrills when he hears the lines:

It is interesting to read what Kipling’s cousin, Miss Florence Macdonald, wrote for The Methodist Recorder, London, following Kipling’s death. She said that she had a letter that Kipling wrote to her father after “The Recessional” was published. He there said:

“Yes, when one has three generations of Methody (Methodist) ministers behind one, the pulpit streak is bound to show. It’s very funny to hear folk wondering where I got it.” Then Miss Macdonald made this observation:

“It is not generally known, perhaps, that he (Kipling) was a grandson of the manse on both sides, his maternal grandfather being the Rev. George B. Macdonald, and his paternal grandfather being the Rev. Joseph Kipling, both Wesleyan ministers.”

This side-light on Kipling’s method of composition was also given by Miss Macdonald: “When composing verse he would set it to a tune, often a hymn tune, and I have heard him walking up and down the room singing a verse over and over again to get the lilt and the swing of it.”

Kipling, by the way, was awarded the Nobel prize for literature in 1907. And when the author was laid to rest in Westminster Abbey, June 23, 1936, the choir sang his own “Recessional,” and through the venerable temple there rang the words:

CHAPTER XI
THANKSGIVING IN SONG

The note of praise was sounded at the very beginning of the 75th annual convention of the New York State Council of Religious Education, which was held in Utica, N. Y., October, 1930. The assembled delegates, whose interest centered in directing the religious life of the young people in the churches and communities of the state, lifted up their voices in singing what was once characterized by Dr. J. M. Buckley as the “most perfect hymn in thanksgiving in the English language:”

Each day in downtown Los Angeles, in the morning, at noonday, and again at night, a mighty choir of bells invites the hearts of merchants and bankers, tradesmen and newsboys, policemen and seamstresses to pause and reflect, to be still a moment in their hearts and receive the sacred benediction of the bells.

In the message of the bells there is joy and peace and love for all our fellow men, the love one sometimes forgets in the hurly-burly of a great city. Whenever I hear these bells I stop whatever I am doing, and my heart looks up to the great tower atop a lofty building and beyond to the vast blue sky.

My heart sings with the bells a prayer of gratitude for the gentle reminder that commerce is not all.

—Cy Lance in “The Classmate.”

Two Statesmen Sang “America” in Washington’s Pew

The American nation was called to supplication for Divine guidance on the first day of 1942. The date was historic, for the nation was entering on a New Year with the dark shadows of war resting on the people. One of the events of that day was recorded on the front page of practically all our newspapers.

Winston Churchill, Prime Minister of Great Britain, was at that time visiting the United States for the purpose of conferring with President F. D. Roosevelt. The latter took his guest with him to the quaint Episcopal Church at Alexandria, Va., of which George Washington was, in 1775, one of the founders. Together they occupied the white pew in which Washington used to worship.

Each of the two statesmen loved to sing, hence both of them united with the congregation when they sang:

Perhaps each responsible statesman, burdened with anxiety, was thinking of his own country as he sang the prayerful words:

Thus did two statesmen of the twentieth century render thanksgiving to God and covet his leadership and guidance as they stood side by side and sang their faith in God and country.

Gunner Led the Song of Praise

“Circumstances called for patient waiting,” said one who had been interned in the Allied-Prisoners-of-War Camp “on the west coast of the island of Honshu.... Over the mountains and two hundred miles to the south the first atom bomb had been dropped during those momentous days of August, 1945.... Then suddenly everything was quiet. The wailing air-raid sirens, the heavy drone of giant bombers, the explosions, the flames, the panic and confusion ceased.”

“The ending of hostilities ... gave place to long silent and uneventful days, completely cut off from news of the outside world.” Thus ran the story of one who signed himself with the initials “R. E. W. H.” as he narrated some of his experiences in the Japanese prison camp during World War II. The prison community consisted of Australians, Americans, Dutch and British. Three and a half years of alien bondage had been endured by some of them.

One of the first concerted acts of these former prisoners, when they definitely realized their freedom, was to hold a service of thanksgiving. The account of this appeared in The British Weekly, September 9, 1946. They had “no padre or religious leadership, but the desire to give praise and thanks in a form of Divine service was spontaneous, and embraced all sects and racial creeds.”

The first hymn used was a most appropriate selection:

They did not get a good start. Perhaps they were overwhelmed by their emotions. Eventually they followed the lead “of a confident and enthusiastic little gunner”; and as the company gained control of itself “the hymn swelled to strength, sung by Catholic, Anglican, Nonconformist.”

The service was methodical, having been planned with care. It was held on the small parade ground in the center of the camp. The table was covered by a worn but well-washed strip of cloth. The crucifix was made by a carpenter among the prisoners; and the Japanese, by request, had supplied a small bowl of flowers. Benches were taken from the huts of the prisoners, and served as seats. The men had dressed for the occasion as best they could. The writer who related the incident had been asked to address them; and he found the assembled men most attentive. The peace that came from the hymns and prayers “was reflected in their eyes and attitude.” Those who shared in worship will never forget that day. How feelingly they must have sung that third verse!

Minister Thrilled by Singing of Philadelphia Laymen

“John Reith was reared in a Scottish manse on a diet of porridge and prayer,” but because of his useful service to his native land he eventually became Sir John Reith. During the first World War he visited the United States as an inspector of war munitions, and in the interest of national service. He had rendered service as Captain John C. Reith, and had been wounded.

He was a notable figure as he moved through the streets of Philadelphia, being 76 inches tall. The minister who relates the following story often saw him as he walked down Chestnut Street, for his “great height and commanding figure attracted all eyes.” The Rev. John T. Reeve, then a pastor of a Presbyterian Church in the city, related the incident in 1941. Many prominent laymen of the Presbyterian Churches of Philadelphia and vicinity constituted the Social Union, and had a dinner once a month. Occasionally ministers were invited.

Captain Reith was invited to address the Social Union during his visit, and Dr. Reeve was a guest at that meeting. The speaker indicated how much he missed the Bibles from the pews in our American churches, and also made reference to the ministry of his father. “His talk moved the audience deeply, and this young soldier made such a spiritual impression on this company of several hundred business and professional men as had seldom been felt.”

When Captain Reith ceased speaking the whole body of men sprang to their feet. A prominent organist from one of the churches went to the piano, and started to play. His selection was:

This hymn of Isaac Watts was sung to the tune of Uxbridge.

“Such singing I never heard before or since,” said Dr. Reeve, as he recalled the event several years later. Then he explained: “In not many cities could this have taken place. But in Philadelphia, where so many of these men had been brought up in Covenanter and United Presbyterian churches, they knew the great hymn. The thrills ran up and down my back, and many times since in giving out the hymn I have mentioned the incident, and shall always remember Captain J. C. Reith with honor.”

“We Love the Place”

“WE RETURN HOME!” was the announcement which appeared in some of the London papers in March, 1946. This was followed by the statement that on Saturday evening, March 9, at 6:30, there would be an act of “thanksgiving in song.” This was a call to the congregation of Central Hall, Westminster, London, who had been dispossessed of the use of their building for the use of the United Nations’ Conference.

The spacious Hall, the center of extensive social and evangelistic work, was the place considered to be most suitable for the gathering. Hence it was a strange sight to see statesmen from many lands assemble day after day in the place where the people were accustomed to hear the minister, the Rev. Dr. W. E. Sangster, proclaim the message of life everlasting to large congregations.