hymn which has smoothed the dying pillow for millions of God's people. Perhaps a word may be permitted touching another hymn by Mr. Williams: O'er the gloomy hills of darkness, Let thy glorious morning dawn. Let the dark benighted pagan, Loud resound from pole to pole. Fly abroad, thou mighty gospel, Saviour all the world around. Mr. Williams was a Welshman and was called the "Isaac Watts" of Wales. This royal hymn, ringing with missionary zeal, was sent out to the world before the era of modern missions-before Wm. Carey had left his cradle, and notwithstanding the multitude of modern missionary hymns, it is still like the sword of Goliath of which David said to Abimelech : "There is none like it. Give it me.' Mr. Williams died in 1791, a few months before Wm. Carey struck the high mis sionary note of his wonderful Nottingham sermon, "Attempt great things for God, and expect great things from God." THERE are probably nearly 1,000,000 so called Christian hymns and perhaps 1,500 different hymnals, there being about 300 in the Anglican church alone. The making of hymn books is quite a business, with comparatively little sentiment in it, however much feeling, devotion, or inspiration may have gone into the writing of the hymns themselves. Some man or company wishes to advertise a hymn or hymns, but his list is altogether too small for a book, so the various hymnals are looked over and a compilation made, the value of it depending upon the taste, judgment and character of the compilers. The writer has just looked through several collections, and found in only two of them that hymn of Henry Kirk White's which has few equals and no superior-a grand hymn, taking you up among the stars with the first line, and holding the attention to the last syllable: When, marshalled on the nightly plain, One star alone, of all the train, Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks Once on the raging seas I rode, The storm was loud, the night was dark, Deep horror then my vitals froze; It was the star of Bethlehem! It was my guide, my light, my all; The star, the star of Bethlehem! A group of hymns founded upon one and another of the parables in the thirteenth chapter of Matthew, many of them fine as hymns, have been translated into various languages, but in several of them the theology seems to be a little awry. For instance, the one beginning: "I've found the pearl of greatest price." This hymn was written by John Mason about 1685. It was considerably made over by P. P. Bliss and sung the world over at the Moody and Sankey meetings, eliciting great interest. It is built upon the forty-sixth verse of the thirteenth chapter of Matthew: "Who when he had found one pearl of great price went and sold all that he had and bought it." This hymn and others relating to the pearl and to the treasure hid in a field are based on the theory that the man buying the pearl, and the field in which the treasure is, represents a man finding-obtaining-salvation in Christ. It is respectfully submitted whether the true interpretation is not that Christ himself is the purchaser of both pearl and field. We have nothing with which to buy either the pearl or the field, but Christ had. He gave up the glory which he enjoyed "before the world was," in order to buy to redeemhis church, his goodly pearl. "Ye are not your own. * * * Ye are bought with a price * * * even the precious blood of Christ." The whole Biblical theory of man's salvation is that he is purchased, redeemed, bought by the sacrifice of Christ. The strict definition of "hymn" excludes the following lines, yet they have earned a niche in the Valhalla of hymns. The author is Mrs. Ellen Huntington Gates, a sister of Colis P. Huntington, of the Southern Pacific railroad. She called her poem a "simple little thing," yet acknowledged that she "thought it had wings." Its wings have carried it all over the known world. Abraham Lincoln was very partial to it, and indeed his unmeasured praise went far to give the lines their prominence. Joe Mitchell Chapple says Mr. Lincoln encored the piece eighteen times at a Washington, Sunday school convention in 1864. If you cannot on the ocean Sail among the swiftest fleet, Laughing at the storms you meet, Up the mountain steep and high, You can visit the afflicted, Sitting at the Savior's feet. If you cannot in the harvest BETWEEN forty and fifty years ago a friend whose home was in Paris, being on a visit to America, met Mr. H. G. Spafford, of Chicago, who, when our friend, Rev. Theophile Lorriaux, was returning to France put in his charge Mrs. Spafford and their children. They sailed in the French boat Ville du Havre. The vessel was wrecked in a collision, with a loss of life that staggered the world, for we had not then grown accustomed to such overwhelming destruction as befell the Titanic, the Lusitania and the Eastland. Mr. Lorriaux, Mrs. Stafford and others reached Plymouth, Eng., in an open boat, but the children-how many I do not now remember-were drowned at the time of the collision. Mr. Spafford was a man of wealth and of sterling Christian character, and on receiving word of the calamity to his family he almost immediately wrote the hymn below quoted. He at once gave up all secular business and devoted himself and his means to good works. Among other things he and his wife established in Palestine an "American colony" for the aid of the poor, and, though Mr. Spafford has been dead many years, Mrs. Spafford still carries on that charity, or did when the |