SUNDAY AT HOME.
Many stories arc told about the writing of famous hymns, and almost every one has a touch of romance or of sentiment. Frances Ridley Havergal —one of the finest woman hymn writers, perhaps, that the world has known — composed her most beautiful verses under extraordinary circumstances. They comprise the hymn beginning : “Take my life and let it be Consecrated, Lord, to Thee.” She went to visit a countin' house, and, while there, conducted a little mission of her own with such success that she induced every member of the the household, including all the servants to embrace Christianity before she left. On the last day of her stay she composed ‘‘Take my Life, and let it Be” for the especial benefit of her friends whose guest she had been. Audiences that flocked to hear Moody and Sankey in the days long ago were qlways delighted to hear, “The Ninety amid Nino.” Few. however, knew the story of the birth of this hymn. ■ The two evangelists were at Glasgow, Scotland, on their way to Edinburgh, and stopping at a bookstall, Mr Sankey bought a religious paper. Reading it io the train, he came across the words of “The Ninety and Nine,” and read them over to Mr Moody, wno, however, took not the slightest notice, for he was busy dealing with his correspondence. “All right,” thought Mr Sankey to himself ; “he’ll hear that later on.” That night Mr Moody preached on the Good Shepherd, and then asked Mr Sankey to sing an appropriate solo. Mr Sankey produced a newspaper cutting, laid it before him on the rack of the harmonium, struck a full chord and began to sing. What notes he sang he did not know, nor what chords he played. He took no heed of harmony nor the laws of musical progression. Somehow he got through the first stanza. An so he went through the five verses, and the audience sat still as death until he had finished with the last glad shout ; “And the angels echoed around the throne ; Rejoice ! for the Lord brings back His own ! ” When it was all over, Mr Moody came down from the pulpit, and, resting a hand on Mr Sankey’s shoulder. looked with wonder at the newspaper clipping. “My dear friend,” he said, “where did you get that song ? I never heard anything like it.” “That,” said Mr Sankey, “is the hymn I read to you on the train—the one you didn’t hear.”
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SUNDAY AT HOME., Southern Cross, Volume 15, Issue 8, 25 May 1907
SUNDAY AT HOME. Southern Cross, Volume 15, Issue 8, 25 May 1907
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