Sacred song is of divine appointment. More than a thousand years before the heavenly choir sang their midnight chorus of "Glory to God in the highest," the old-time Psalmist said, "Sing unto the Lord all the earth," and all through the world's ages 'psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs" have been wings of devotion to lift the soul into communion with God. Some of these sacred lyrics have gained widespread popularity and undying fame, not because of the genius of their authors, but because they have been the "heart songs" of a common brotherhood. Foremost among these stands Hedge's translation of Luther's "Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott."

"A mighty fortress is our God."

This magnificent hymn was composed by the Great Reformer for the Diet of Spires, which was held in April, 1529. It has been aptly called "The Marseillaise Hymn of the Reformation." Born amid the fierce struggle for emancipation from spiritual bondage, it forthwith became the battle-cry of Protestantism throughout the Fatherland. No hymn ever so captured

the German heart. It was sung everywhere; in their homes, on the streets, in their public gatherings, and on the battle-field. And everywhere it was a clarion-call to courage and to victory. It was used with marvellous effect just before the battle of Lutzen, on the morning of November 16, 1632. The contending Catholic and Protestant forces were encamped face to face, when Adolphus-the Champion of the Reformation— summoned his whole army to a service of praise and prayer. While thus engaged, a heavy mist fell upon the field, completely concealing each army from the other. Riding throughout the encampment, Adolphus commanded the bands to strike up Luther's hymn, whereupon the whole force joined in the exultant strain,

"A mighty fortress is our God."

As they sang the fog lifted, and the sun shone forth bright and clear. A fierce and bloody battle ensued. Before noon Gustavus Adolphus received a mortal wound. But ere the evening shadows fell upon that scene of carnage, the Catholic cause had suffered a crushing defeat, while the dead

king and his singing soldiers triumphantly held the field.

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In all the great German battles for more than three hundred and seventy years, the soul-stirring words of this grand old hymn have strengthened hand and heart and nerve" for heroic and victorious action. During the Franco-German war this was the favourite song of the German troops. Around their camp

fires, in the valley of the Meuse, and as they marched to meet the foe, this inspiring hymn filled every heart with hope and cheer.

The day after the battle of Sedan, a contingent of the German army was marching on to the French capital. At night they were lodged in a large parish church. The intense strain and excitement of the battle-field were upon them. The memory of that bloody fray, and of their fallen comrades, unmanned them, and they could not rest. Suddenly in the stillness of the evening hour came from the organ loft, at first very softly, but with increasing volume, the strain of this majestic hymn, "A mighty fortress is our God." The

officers and men caught up the stirring melody, until, from a thousand hearts and voices, the vaulted aisles re-echoed with holy song.

Another of these strong, inspiring hymns, and one that is scarcely second to Luther's great masterpiece, is Paul Gerhardt's

"Give to the winds thy fears." *

The story of its origin is no doubt prophetic of the comfort and courage its faith-filled stanzas have brought to many a hard-pressed soldier of the cross. Gerhardt's forceful preaching of the Lutheran doctrines greatly displeased his royal master, the Grand Elector, and he sought to silence him.

* John Wesley's translation.

Between the throne and the pulpit a conflict was waged for several years, but the separation between them grew wider all the while. Gerhardt's conscience spoke with weightier authority than Gerhardt's king. At length, in 1659, the unyielding pastor was transferred from his church and home in Berlin to the Archdeaconship of Lubben in Saxony. To this faroff appointment, with his delicate wife and helpless children, he began a journey, which was destined, on account of sickness and delays, to be protracted for several years.

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One night the sorrows and sufferings of his loved family pressed upon him sorely, and he went out into a neighbouring wood to gather strength in prayer. While thus engaged, these words of gracious promise, "Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him and he shall bring it to pass," came to his soul with such blessed assurance that he received immediate comfort and strength. ing from his knees, and walking to and fro in the quiet of the night, he began the composition of this hymn, which has brought such abounding comfort to many another care-laden soul. Returning to the hostelry, he found his wife greatly cast down, and he sought to cheer her with his text and hymn. At length, with trust and confidence in their heavenly Father's love and care, they retired to rest, purposing to

"Leave to His sovereign sway
To choose and to command,"

but "ere sweet sleep their eyelids. closed," a thunderous knock at their door filled them with renewed apprehension. Soon, however, fear gave place to joy, when they learned that their midnight visitor was a messenger from Duke Christian of Mensburg offering to the faithful preacher "a church, people,

home and livelihood, and also liberty to preach the Gospel as his heart might prompt him.'

To many an anxious child of earth have the strong and stirring lines of this inspiring hymn brought hope and cheer. One such instance is deserving of special notice. Near the village of Warsaw lived a pious peasant named Dobyr. Through manifold misfortunes this good man was unable to pay his rent for three successive years. Winter's cold was now upon the land, and eviction stared him in the face. On the morrow he and his family were to be turned out into the snow. That evening, gathering his little household around him, they sang Gerhardt's hymn of trust, and knelt in prayer. While thus engaged, there was heard a "rapping at the window lattice." On opening the window, "in there stepped a stately raven,' carrying in his bill a golden band, set with precious stones. This the peasant took at once to his pastor, who informed him that it belonged to Stanislaus, their king, to whom the preacher returned it, and told the story of his unfortunate parishioner. Dobyr was immediately summoned to the palace, where he received royal thanks and large reward. In the following spring Stanislaus built the peasant a comfortable home, and stocked his stalls from the royal stables. Over the portal of this princely homeplace, a tablet was erected, on which was carved a raven, holding in its beak a ring. Underneath were inscribed these lines from Gerhardt's immortal hymn,

"Thou everywhere hast sway

And all things serve Thy might,
Thy every act pure blessing is,
Thy path unsullied light."

The most famous and best loved metrical arrangement of the twenty-third Psalm is that of Fran

cis Rous, "The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want."

Rous was a native of Halton, in Cornwall. He received his education at Broadgate Hall, now Pembroke College, Oxford. He studied law, and was a member of Parliament under Charles I. In 1657 he was a member of the House of Lords, and was one of Oliver Cromwell's Privy Council. Although a layman, he was chosen. a member of the Westminster Assembly of Divines. To this august body Rous' version of this psalm was presented, in 1643, and three years later it was adopted. Three years afterwards it was approved by the General Assembly of the Kirk of Scotland, and has been the standard version in use ever since.

Dr. John Ker says: "Every line of it, every word of it, has been engraven for generations on Scottish hearts, has accompanied them from childhood to age, from their homes to all the seas and lands where they haye wandered, and has been to a multitude no man can number, the rod and staff of which it speaks, to guide and to guard in dark valleys, and at last through the darkest."

Among the many touching incidents that might be cited in connection with this famous hymn we may mention the following from Crockett's "Men of the Moss Hags." The Claverhouse troops were scouring the hill country and haling the supposed enemies of King Charles to imprisonment and death. One day a company of red-coats, under command of a certain Captain Johnston, came upon a group of children, whose parents had gone into hiding for fear of the king's men. The leader of this soldier-band sought to make the little people disclose the hiding-places of their sires. But threats and curses were alike

in vain; whereupon the command was given to blindfold the little group, and men were detailed to shoot the "bairns." The first volley was fired above their heads. The children were greatly alarmed, but unfalteringly held to their purpose of secrecy. The enraged leader then bade them pray, as their last moment had come. "Oh, sir," said a little lass of about ten summers, we canna pray, but we can sing." Then, rising from her knees, still clasping the hand of her little brother, whom she sought to cheer, her voice trembling with fear and sweetness, she began to sing,

"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want."

Immediately the whole group of little ones joined in the well-known psalm of holy trust. Amazed and awe-stricken, the troopers listened. for a while, then pity took the place of passion in their hearts and one by one they silently rode away, followed last of all by Capt. Johnston himself. Thus the presence of the Divine Shepherd, in whom. the children trusted, quickly changed what seemed to

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be death's dark vale," into "green pastures the quiet waters by."

Among the many hymns that have come from the heart and pen of Cardinal Newman, "Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom," is deservedly the best known and most highly prized. The author was the son of a London banker, born in 1801. From a child he was brought up to take great delight in reading the Scriptures. At nineteen he graduated from Trinity College, and spent the next eight years in the teaching profession. In 1828 he was appointed incumbent of St. Mary's Church, Oxford. Here his ministrations exerted a powerful influence upon the students of the university. The next five years

was a period of great literary activity and much spiritual unrest.

Newman was by nature a ritualist. What was known as the "Oxford Movement," which occasioned a vast amount of agitation in the Anglican Church, was originated by him. He was also the leading writer in "Tracts for the Times." In one of these he sought to obliterate all lines of distinction between the English and Roman Catholic Churches. From his pulpit utterances as well as from the literary offspring of his fertile brain, it soon became apparent whither he was drifting. Finally, in 1845, failing to persuade the Church of his fathers to forsake the Protestant faith, he left its fold, to enter the Church of Rome. His brilliant talents and commanding influence were at once recognized and honoured.

This popular hymn was composed about twelve years before Newman severed his connection with the English Church. He had been travelling in Italy, and was prostrated with severe illness. As soon as he was sufficiently restored he took ship at Palermo for Marseilles. During this voyage his vessel was becalmed for a week in the Straits of Bonifacio. It was during this enforced pause in his journey homeward that his restless. spirit, groping in the night of darkness, and "far from home,” breathed the earnest prayer,