Writers of One Hymn.

BY W. W. DAVIS, A. M.

The fame of many writers rests on a single production. Defoe was a voluminous author, but "Robinson Crusoe" is all that has come down to us. "The Burial of Sir John Moore" has embalmed the memory of Rev. Charles Wolfe, no less than that of the military hero.

It is so in sacred poetry. Take most favorite hymns, and you will find their authors composed nothing else so popular. Their genius seems to have been exhausted by a single happy effort. Let us look at a few illustrations.

"Come, thou fount of every blessing," was the earliest and best performance of Robert Robinson, awakened under the preaching of Whitefield. He was unstable, becoming Methodist, Independent, Baptist, and finally dying an avowed Socinian, in 1790.

"Rock of Ages" is a glorious Christian lyric, and Toplady has left nothing half so precious. He began his ministry amid the beautiful hills of Devon, in 1768. Toplady was bitter enough in dispute, but his spirit lost all its harshness when he tuned the instrument of sacred song.

Few hymns have been more frequently sung at times of special religious feeling than "Come, ye sinners, poor and needy." Its author was Joseph Hart, born in London, 1712. He began life as a teacher.

Rev. Edward Perronet gave to the Church that grand march of the saints, "All hail the power of Jesus' name." His father was a clergyman of the English Establishment, but he himself labored under the patronage of Lady Huntington, who died in 1791.

"Nearer, my God, to Thee," has probably touched more hearts than any other modern hymn. Sarah Fuller Flower, its author, was the younger of the two daughters of Benjamin Flower. In 1834 she was marred to Adams, a civil engineer, and died in 1849, at the age of forty-four. She was buried near Harlow, Essex.

How many weary pilgrims have been cheered in passing through the dark valley by the consolation of "Just as I am, without one plea." Charlotte Elliott

was an invalid from early years, and died in 1871. She was the third daughter of Charles Elliott, of Clapham, England.

Timothy Dwight, elected President of Yale College in 1795, prepared four ponderous volumes of theology which few clergymen ever take from the shelf. His classic version of the 137th Psalm, "I love thy kingdom, Lord," will perpetuate his memory.

A few years ago, in New York, Phoebe Cary died of consumption, at the age of forty-six. She and her sister Alice were both graceful poets. "One sweetly solemn thought," written by Phoebe, in its pensive sadness touches the heart like a dirge.

"Sweet the moments rich in blessing," one of the most inspiring songs for the great congregation, was composed by Sir Walter Shirley, converted under the ministry of Venn, who died in 1796. Shirley afterward preached in England and Ireland.

About fifty years ago, Rev. Dr. Muhlenberg, Rector of St. Luke's Hospital, New York, wrote the well-known hymn, "I would not live alway." Not satisfied with its spirit, the author has since endeavored to correct its teachings, writing in 1868 an additional verse which breathes the true feeling of resignation. This is not generally found, however, with the older verses.

Choice Paragraphs.

The essence of true nobility is neglect of self. Let the thought of self pass in, and the beauty of a great action is gone, like the bloom from a soiled flower.

Were the happiness of the next world as closely apprehended as the felicities of this, it were a martyrdom to live; and unto such as consider none hereafter, it must be more than death to die, which makes us amazed at those audacities that durst be nothing and return unto their chaos again.-Sir Thomas Browne.

Passing along the road the other day, we thought we had found a very beautiful knife. On picking it up, it was found to be only a handle without a blade. So do we hear very beautiful sermons-well-written and well-read

We hold to earth and earthly things by so many more links of thought, if not of affection, that it is far harder to keep our views to heaven clear and strong; when this life is so busy, and therefore, so full of reality to us, another life seems by comparison unreal. This is our condition, and its peculiar temptations, but we must endure it, and strive to overcome them, for I think we may not try to flee from it.—Dr. Arnold.

Though life is short, we have much time. Great thoughts are born in a minute and great works are done in an hour. In a brief life there is time to build houses, acquire extended possessions, and by war, or statesmanship, to fill the world with a name. There is also time and space for reflection, on the part of every sinner who hears the gospel.

Who, if he fails to believe in Christ will claim he had not time?

A Beautiful Act.

I have recently attended the Commencement exercises of a Ladies' Seminary at Andover (I think he said Andover), being there to witness the graduation of a young lady who is a member of his church. The fifth graduate who presented herself was a lady of excessive modesty. She was far from home, and none of her friends were with her. Those who preceded her had been liberally rewarded with flowers. She read a poem, showing that she possessed poetic talent, if not genius. She retired, but not a flower was offered her. The audience "took in" the situation, and burst forth into loud and long applause. She was obliged to come forward and acknowledge the compliment, when another burst of applause greeted her. The audience were determined that she should not be neglected, In time his friend read her essay. At its close flowers in abundance were handed to her. The very first bouquet given to her she gave to her companion who had none. It was a beautiful act-"it was itself a consummate flower." Dr. Duryea.

Incongruities of Hymns.

In the course of a recent lecture on

"Congregational Psalmody," the Rev.

Dr. Allan noticed some of the incon

was

gruities that used to occur by the awkinstance, "Love thee better than before" ward divisions in repetition lines. For was divided "Love thee bet;" "My poor polluted heart" became "My poor pol-;" "We'll catch the fleeting hour" was sung "We'll catch the flee-;" "And more exact our joys" was sung "And more ex-;" home" became "And take thy pil-;" "And take thy pilgrim "And in the pious he delights' sung "And in the pi- and in the pi-;" and "Send down salvation from on high" became "And send down sal-." A soprano in one case sang "Oh for a for a mansion in the skies." In one man," and the chorus responded “Oh case the soprano modestly sang "Teach me to kiss;" the alto took up the strain, «Teach me to kiss," while the bass rendered it quite prosaic by singing "Teach me to kiss thy rod."-Weekly Review.

Put in Mind.

Old Dr. Johnson said that "mankind did not so much require instructing as they did reminding. Have any of us ever failed in our duty to our Maker, our neighbor, or ourselves for lacking the knowledge of it? Who is ignorant of what is right? No one. We have been imbued with the principles of truth till the knowledge of it appears like intuition; and yet how often do we require to be reminded of our duty?

And this, after all, in Christian lands, is the great duty of the pulpit. It is not to tell congregations new truths, but to remind them of old ones; not to inform them of new duties, but to urge them to the practice of old ones they have been neglecting; and which all of us, by reason of the constant din of this world's work, are ready to forget and neglect. "I stir up your pure minds by way of remembrance." The man who does not need to be reminded of old truths, and to be urged to the practice of old duties, has no need to be preached to. But who can say he does his duty so well that he stands in no need of being put in mind of them. -Selected.

dents.

It is a somewhat singular fact that, as far as it is known, no President of the United States, since the days of Washington, has been a communicant in a church. John Adams was the

of his day. thinker. An attempt was made when Jefferson was a young man, to make the Episcopal Church the established religion of Virginia. John Leland, a traveling Baptist minister, preached a sermon in the presence of Jefferson, on what he called the "incestuous connection of Church and State." The ser

mon converted Jefferson to that doctrine. His persistent opposition to a State religion caused him to be stigmatized as an infidel. Mrs. Madison was a communicant at the Episcopal

Church. Her husband was not. Monroe was a member of an Episcopal parish, but not a communicant. John Quincy Adams, though a member of a Unitarian parish in Massachusetts, held a pew in the Second Presbyterian Church in Washington, of which he was a trustee, and there he worshiped until his death. In a violent snowstorm I saw him wading to church, one Sunday, with the snow up to his loins, and he was one of the seven persons who composed the congregation that morning. He never communed in the church. General Jackson was a regular attendant on Sunday mornings. He worshiped in the Second Presbyterian Church till his quarrel with the pastor

about Mrs. Eaton. He then left for the Four-and-a-half Street Church, and took his Cabinet with him. He always came early, and entered his pew, which was on the right side of the church as he entered. Earnest and devout attention he gave to the sermon. It was his custom, at the close of the sermon, to rise in the pew, make a very courteous bow to the minister, and then walk out, the audience waiting in their pews till he had reached the vestibule. Van Buren's home church at Kinderhook was Reformed Dutch. At Washington, when he went to church he attended St. John's Episcopal in the morning. Mrs. Polk was a devout and earnest

St. John's. President Pierce was a Concord, New Hampshire, but not of member of a Congregational Society in the church. He was very regular in his attendance at the Presbyterian Church in Washington, on the morning of each Sabbath. Buchanan attended the small Presbyterian Church in F Street, near the White House. This was his religious home during his long Senatorial life. He was not a member of the church. He came to worship usually on foot and unattended. His

pew was on the side, about two-thirds of the way from the door. He usually walked up

the aisle with a cat-like step,

went to the extreme end of the pew, curled himself up in the corner, and seldom moved till the service closed. He rarely spoke to any one, and hastened from the church to the White House. Mrs. Lincoln was a communicant at the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church. Mr. Lincoln was not. But he was a regular attendant at worship. Johnson seems to have no reliLutherans. General Grant is not a gious home, but rather inclined to the Professor of religion. He is a trustee of the National Methodist Church at Washington, and is a frequent attendant on the preaching of that church. -Boston Journal.

Affectation in Names,

Lovers of the good old names sanctified by centuries of use cannot but regret the fashionable affectation which prompts so many of our modern young ladies to disguise them with French terminations, or to discard them altogether in favor of some silly prettiness born of the familiarity of the home. circle. Our Marys are all Maries, our Julias Julies, our Harriets Hatties, our Carolines Carries, our Sarahs Sadies, our

Catherines Katies, our Susans Susies, and so on to the end, each fashioned after a common model, and adapted to that Gallic standard of beauty to which everything must conform. Still more absurd are the meaningless pet names born of the nursery, the Dollies, the Pussies, the Minnies, and the Lillies, (we have heard even of Babie used by a full-grown young woman), which, appropriate enough for children, in the affectionate privacy of the family, seem inconsistent with adolescence and long clothes. Minnie, it is true, is used as a diminutive for Mary, and Lillie for Elizabeth; but there is no reason for the former, and the latter is the diminutive of Lillian, if of anything. If we must have diminutives of these names, which seem by no means a necessity, especially after a young lady has reached mature years, the good old English Molly and Polly for Mary, and Bessy, Betty, and Lizzy, for Elizabeth, are preferable, to the affected French terminations. But our ladies would display better taste by discarding altogether, on taking their places in the adult world, the pretty nicknames and pet names of their childhood. -Appletons' Journal.

Passing Ships.

One of the pleasantest variations of a monotonous sea voyage, is the passing of other ships, and the interchange of a few friendly words.

We cannot imagine the thrill which goes through some hearts as they read the simple paragraph, "Spoke such a vessel in such a latitude and took her mail."

"Now, doubtless, we shall get word from our outward bound." And sometimes this message from the sea is the last that comes to waiting, watching ones on shore.

Oh! if that passing ship had gone on selfishly and silently, there would have been no such last words to treasure

Without such aid all must have perished, or been reduced to the extremest suffering.

On the voyage of life we are constantly passing and repassing other barks, which need hailing. Shall we go by them silently, never inquiring if they are in need of help? A young man has come to your place a stranger. Give him early a friendly grasp of the hand and a cordial greeting. You do not know the help they will be to him. Aid him in his business all you can. Encourage him to be industrious and frugal, and you have helped close the door against a thousand temptations. But, above all things, seek to lead him to Christ if he is a stranger to God, and if he is a professor of religion urge him at once to take his stand on the Lord's side.

Call on stranger families, who come to make a home among you, and make them feel as early as possible that it is a home indeed. Gather the children into the warm fold of the Sabbathschool, and the parents into the Church.

Don't forget to hail these passing voyagers. Such friendly deeds often avert dire disasters, and give joy to faroff friends whose faces you have never seen. But you will know them and hear their grateful praises when you stand beside the sea of glass.-Sunday School Times.

A Religious House-Cleaning.

A writer, while giving an account of a religious awakening in a western state, when differing sects united in acts of worship, mentions a notable characteristic of the revival. "The burial of hatchets. Everybody was amazed at the number. The process of interment occupied two days. Feuds of six years' standing, feuds between members of the single families, members of the same church, and members of the two churches were exposed, bewailed, and banished. Yea, what clearing of yourselves,' says the apostle. It was called 'house-cleaning' as here, and there was much to be done, and much was done."

Such house-cleaning as this would be profitable in many other churches, communities, and neighborhoods, But it is said by some good housewives that in

stead of having an occasional or periodical house-cleaning and setting things to rights, it is a better way to keep things clean and right every day, and so avoid the necessity for these wholesale raids on dirt and disorder.

The best time to clean up grudges is now, right on the spot. As soon as you see a wrong, right it; as soon as you see a wrong in another, reprove it. If you have a difficulty, a complaint, or a grievance, settle it at once-"Let not the sun go down upon your wrath." This piling up old grudges as the Germans do dirty linen, and having washing day come only twice a year, is very poor policy for the children of the Most High. If have done thus in time past, commence and have a housecleaning' in earnest, forthwith, and from this time let no accumulated grievances, grudges, and wrongs, part you from the fellowship of the saints, or hide the smiles of the Saviour, or grieve that Sacred Spirit whose fruits are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith.-The Chris

tian.

you

A Street in Constantinople.

Spite of its dirt and squalor, the Grande Rue, the Broadway of Constantinople, is interesting. It is the scene of a movement almost unexampled in the world. Turks and Greeks, Albanians, Armenians, Circassians, Nubians, Arabs, Maltese, English, French, Russians, Germans, all the nationalities of the world, in fact, help to make up its population. Over its rough, slimy stones passes up and down a ceaseless stream of humanity, now forced for a moment to stop that the carriage of some Grand Pasha, with its outriders, may find a passage; now giving way to a body of Turkish soldiers, who march as if they were flying in disordered retreat from a field of battle; now driven pell-mell before a dashing officer on horseback, who never dreams of drawing rein, although women and children are in helpless confusion before him; and now fighting their way between the uncouth wheels of a timber-laden vehicle, drawn by buffaloes, whose spreading and pointed horns threaten to trans

fix the poor pedestrian, if by chance he escapes being crushed beneath the burden they are hauling. Here comes a jolting hack, dignified with the title of carriage, filled with Turkish women, in blue and pink silks, their faces covered by the muslin folds of the yashmac. If you can get a good look at them en passant, you will not be fascinated by their beauty, for the half-veil, although most seductive, is not worn so thin as scarcely to conceal thick noses, gross lips and flabby faces of these beauties of the harem. They are "going shopping," probably to purchase French jewelry at double its value to adorn their persons for the benefit of the Pasha, their master, and their fellow-associates of the harem, for, excepting these, no society do they enjoy. Here, in contrast to them, are some Turkish women on foot, accompanied by their servant, a fat old black woman, who is also concealing her Nubian loveliness beneath a yashmac of snowy muslin. These, perhaps, are the wives or concubines of a tradesman, or they would not be on foot. They are wrapped in ferigees, or flowing mantles of brightly red cotton cloth-purple and green and crimson-the effect of which, with their yellow slippers, is very picturesque. They turn their eyes away as they pass.us, for to look upon a man, and least of all upon a dog of a Christian," would be a most unhallowed proceeding.

The Gentleman.

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It is almost the definition of a gentleman to say he is one who never inflicts pain. The true gentleman carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a bolt in the minds of those with whom he is cast; all clashing of opinion, or collision of feeling, all restraint, or suspicion of gloom, or resentment; his great concern being to make every one at ease and at home. He has eyes on all his company; he is tender toward the bashful, gentle toward the distant, and merciful toward the absurd; he can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable allusions to topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and never wearisome. He makes light of