Give me that old-time hymn-singing

In helping a friend in Cary who is remodeling her living room, a neighbor came over to take out a heavy picture-frame window pane from its wall encasement. He told us he had just returned from a vacation in Florida, and that while he was there some local friends talked him into going to their Methodist church for a Sunday morning service.

He said he was turned off by the music that went on for far too long and included drums, electric guitars and the like. I asked him if the crowd was waving upright arms and hands and he said yes.

Instantly I was brought back to my college days at Ohio State (1983-1987) when a friend I was training for a triathlon with encouraged me to attend a Campus Crusade for Christ meeting with her that was held in a university auditorium.

It was the first time I ever experienced a live church service with a band and a rock-concert emulating audience on its feet, swinging and swaying to simplistic, repetitive lyrics like, “Jesus we love you.”

I was raised in several different old-fashioned Baptist churches where singalongs consisted only of a few chosen hymns from the hymnal, listed in the bulletin, and sung before and after the sermon. There was always a robed choir in their designated loft that performed a practiced hymn for the week. Never were there any instruments beyond the organ and piano, save for the occasional soloist with a trumpet, clarinet, violin, etc.

I remember being very uncomfortable at the CCC worship service and did not join the crowd in the singing, waving and clapping. I did remain standing, though, as not to embarrass or offend my friend.

For the rest of my student career I mostly chose just to watch Jimmy Swaggart on the TV, enjoying him sing for me as part of his hour-long broadcast church service. To this day I fondly recall with a smile the shocked look on my boyfriend’s face when he first learned that I was regularly sending checks in the mail to Swaggart’s ministry.

*****

A post from a few weeks back, entitled “Praise and worship pales in comparison,” continues to garner a big readership.

Reading about the men and women of faith behind some of the most beloved hymns of the past, and how influential their music was, is a special treat I highly recommend—one that not only gives you a fascinating trip back in time when Christianity had a MAJOR hold on the culture, but provides strength and comfort to learn how really REAL these songwriters were.

As I mentioned before, I count as a favorite hymn Elizabeth Clephane’s “Beneath the Cross of Jesus,” especially the third stanza: “I take, O cross, thy shadow for my abiding place; I ask no other sunshine than the sunshine of his face; content to let the world go by, to know no gain nor loss, my sinful self my only shame, my glory all the cross.”

Clephane, a Scottish woman who lived from 1830-1869, is also responsible for the classic hymn, “The Ninety and Nine.” According to Wikipedia, “Folklore claims that Elizabeth wrote ‘The Ninety and Nine’ for her brother, George Clephane (1819-1851), who had ‘returned to the flock’ only a short time before his death. As the story goes, he fell from his horse and struck his head upon a rock and was killed instantly.”

The tune is famously based on Jesus Christ’s question in Matthew 18 (also in Luke 15): “If a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray?”

It represents the first and most famous composition of Ira D. Sankey (1840-1908), often called the “father of the gospel song” for making the “new” type of music a major focus in his famous evangelical campaigns with D.L. Moody (The two were actually in the middle of a revival meeting when the Great Chicago Fire broke out!)

One of my hymn history books tells this great anecdote regarding "The Ninety and Nine”:

“Sankey and Moody were en route from Glasgow to Edinburgh, Scotland, in May, 1874, as they were to hold a three-day campaign there. This was at the urgent request of the Ministerial Association.

“Prior to boarding the train, Sankey bought a weekly newspaper for a penny. He found nothing of interest but a sermon by Henry W. Beecher and some advertisements. Then, he found a little piece of poetry in a corner of one column that he liked, and he read it to Moody, but only received a polite reply.

“Sankey clipped the poem and tucked it in his pocket. At the noon day service of the second day of the special series, Moody preached on The Good Shepherd. Horatius Bonar added a few thrilling words and then Moody asked Mr. Sankey if he had a final song. An inner voice prompted him to sing the hymn that he found on the train.

“With conflict of spirit, he thought, this is impossible! The inner voice continued to prod him, even though there was no music to the poem, so he acquiesced. As calmly as if he had sung it a thousand times, he placed the little piece of newspaper on the organ in front of him.

“Lifting up his heart in a brief prayer to Almighty God, he then laid his hands on the keyboard, striking a chord in A flat. Half speaking and half singing, he completed the first stanza, which was followed by four more.

“Moody walked over with tears in his eyes and said, ‘Where did you get that hymn?’ 'The Ninety and Nine' became his most famous tune and his most famous sale from that time on. The words were written by Elizabeth Clephane in 1868. She died in 1869, little realizing her contribution to the Christian world.”

*****

Wikipedia says of the Chicago trial-by-fire for Sankey and Moody, “The two men barely escaped the conflagration with their lives. Sankey ended up watching the city burn from a rowboat far out on Lake Michigan.”

In my book from 1982, “101 Hymn Stories,” author Kenneth W. Osbeck writes, “Although the singing of Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs had always been an important part of public worship starting in the sixteenth century Protestant Reformation, Sankey introduced a style of congregational singing that was ‘calculated to awaken the careless, to melt the hardened, and to guide the inquiring souls to Jesus Christ.’

“It was frequently said that Sankey was as effective a preacher of the gospel of salvation with his songs as his associate, D. L. Moody, was with his sermons.

“For nearly thirty years Sankey and Moody were inseparable in the work of the gospel, both in this country and throughout Great Britain. Sankey’s smooth, cultured ways complemented and made up for Moody’s poor English and impulsiveness. They were often referred to as the ‘David and Jonathan of the gospel ministry.’

“Sankey had little or no professional voice training. He generally accompanied himself on a small reed organ, singing simply but with careful enunciation and much feeling and expression. His voice was described as an exceptionally strong baritone of moderate compass. An English newspaper once wrote the following review:

‘As a vocalist, Mr. Sankey has not many equals. Possessed of a voice of great volume and richness, he expresses with exquisite skill and pathos the gospel message, in words very simple but replete with love and tenderness, and always with a marked effect on the audience.

‘It is, however, altogether a mistake to suppose that the blessing which attends Mr. Sankey’s efforts is attributed only or chiefly to his fine voice and artistic expression. These, no doubt, are very attractive, and go far to move the affections and gratify the taste for music; but the secret of Mr., Sankey’s power lies, not in his gift of song, but in the spirit of which the song is only the expression.’

“Another writer wrote as follows regarding Sankey’s manner of singing: ‘There was something about his baritone voice that was enormously affecting. He had a way of pausing between lines on the song, and in that pause the vast audience remained absolutely silent.’ ”