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Posts Tagged ‘England’

Gentle Mary laid her Child lowly in a manger;
There He lay, the undefiled, to the world a Stranger:
Such a Babe in such a place, can He be the Savior?
Ask the saved of all the race who have found His favor.

Angels sang about His birth; wise men sought and found Him;
Heaven’s star shone brightly forth, glory all around Him:
Shepherds saw the wondrous sight, heard the angels singing;
All the plains were lit that night, all the hills were ringing.

Gentle Mary laid her Child lowly in a manger;
He is still the undefiled, but no more a stranger:
Son of God, of humble birth, beautiful the story;
Praise His Name in all the earth, hail the King of glory!

Joseph Simpson Cook was born this date, 12/4/1859, at Durham County, England.  He was a Methodist who emigrated as a youth to Canada.  Cook received his education at Wesleyan College, McGill University, in Montreal.  He later served in the United Church of Canada.  He penned “Gentle Mary Laid Her Child” in 1919.  He died 5/27/1933, at Toronto, Canada.

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Watchman, tell us of the night,
What its signs of promise are.
Traveler, o’er yon mountain’s height,
See that glory beaming star.
Watchman, does its beauteous ray
Aught of joy or hope foretell?
Traveler, yes—it brings the day,
Promised day of Israel.

Watchman, tell us of the night;
Higher yet that star ascends.
Traveler, blessedness and light,
Peace and truth its course portends.
Watchman, will its beams alone
Gild the spot that gave them birth?
Traveler, ages are its own;
See, it bursts o’er all the earth.

Watchman, tell us of the night,
For the morning seems to dawn.
Traveler, darkness takes its flight,
Doubt and terror are withdrawn.
Watchman, let thy wanderings cease;
Hie thee to thy quiet home.
Traveler, lo! the Prince of Peace,
Lo! the Son of God is come!

John Bowring [Sir] died this date, 11/23/1872, at Devon, England.  His trade/ manufacture was in woolen goods.  It was so extensive that it increased his natural abilities in languages.  One report has him flu­ent in over twenty (20) lan­guages and speaking eighty (80) more.  Another report would place his speaking skills as high as a hundred (100) languages with a limited knowledge of up to two hundred (200).  In either case he had a phenomenal God–given strength and seems could carry on business in following named tongues: Boheman, Danish, Dutch, French, German, Italian, Polish, Portuguese, Russian, Serbian, Spanish, Swedish. 

He served twice in Parliament, held several high government positions to foreign countries including being the governor of Hong Kong, and was knight by Queen Victoria.  In addition to all the worldly fame he had a deep interest in God as the above hymn shows and as his additional twenty (20) some others show.  His more famous one is “In the Cross of Christ I Glory” – see 10/17/2009 of this blog.

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Jesus, I my cross have taken, all to leave and follow Thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition, all I’ve sought or hoped or known.
Yet how rich is my condition! God and Heaven are still mine own.

Let the world despise and leave me, they have left my Savior, too.
Human hearts and looks deceive me; Thou art not, like them, untrue.
And while Thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me, show Thy face and all is bright.

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure! Come, disaster, scorn and pain!
In Thy service, pain is pleasure; with Thy favor, loss is gain.
I have called Thee, “Abba, Father”; I have set my heart on Thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, all must work for good to me.

Man may trouble and distress me, ’twill but drive me to Thy breast.
Life with trials hard may press me; heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me while Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me, were that joy unmixed with Thee.

Take, my soul, thy full salvation; rise o’er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station something still to do or bear:
Think what Spirit dwells within thee; what a Father’s smile is thine;
What a Savior died to win thee, child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?

Haste then on from grace to glory, armed by faith, and winged by prayer,
Heaven’s eternal day’s before thee, God’s own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission, swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope soon change to glad fruition, faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

Henry Francis Lyte was buried this date, 11/20/1847, Nice, France.  Though orphaned he was able to attended Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland, specializing in English poetry.  Lyte married Anne Maxwell, 1818, at Bath, daughter of William Maxwell a minister of Monaghan. (Their very happy marriage produced at least one child, a daughter.)  From Trinity College he received his MA in 1820.

Lyte did not have a strong body and in later years suffered from asthma and consumption. His last pastorate (twenty-three years) was a poor parish, pastoring the fishermen and families in Lower Brixham, England.  (It was here he penned “Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken.”  Near the end of life (his health in worse condition) Lyte preached his last sermon and also wrote “Abide with Me, Fast Falls the Eventide.”

It was for his health sake that he had started to Italy but expired making it no farther than France. Lyte was born 6/1/1793, at Ed­nam, Scot­land.

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If obliged to differ…do I with all possible candor, and an unprejudiced desire to find and ascertain truth, with an entire indifference to the side on which truth is found.

                – William Pitt, “General Advice to Youthful Student,” in A Compendium of English Literature, ed.                    Charles D. Cleveland (Philadelphia: E.C.& J.Biddle, 1851), 642.

If you are not right towards God, you can never be so towards man.

                – William Pitt, “General Advice to Youthful Student,” in A Compendium of English Literature, ed.                    Charles D. Cleveland (Philadelphia: E.C.& J.Biddle, 1851), 642.

“Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth,” is big with the deepest wisdom: The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom: and an upright heart, that is understanding.  There is eternally true, whether the wits and rakes of Cambridge allow it or not…

                – William Pitt, “General Advice to Youthful Student,” in A Compendium of English Literature, ed.                    Charles D. Cleveland (Philadelphia: E.C.& J.Biddle, 1851), 643.

Cherish true religion.  Remember the essence of religion is, a heart void of offense towards God and man…

                – William Pitt, “General Advice to Youthful Student,” in A Compendium of English Literature, ed.                    Charles D. Cleveland (Philadelphia: E.C.& J.Biddle, 1851), 643.

William Pitt, Earl of Charham, was born this date, 11/15/1708, Westminster, England.  He is said to have placated no magnates and to have refused all bribes yet under his influence England became the most powerful country on the globe.  The source mentioned above states about Pitt “He never hesitated to rebuke, in severest terms, his own country, when he saw she was in the way of wrong doing.”

The quotes above are from a letter to his nephew penned at Bath, January 14, 1754.  Pitt died May 11, 1778, at Hayes, Kent.

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My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.

Refrain

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

Edward Mote died this date, 11/13/1874, at Horsham, Sussex, England.  He wrote “My Hope Is Built” (at the age thirty-seven).

 He was for many years a successful cabinetmaker (Jesus worked with wood).  Later Mote took a Baptist pastorate and stayed there twenty-six years.  His congregation loved him, in fact, they offered him the title to their church building.  He is reported to have said, “I do not want the chapel, I only want the pulpit…when I cease to preach Christ, then turn me out of that.”  Well said, brother.  Mott had been born 1/21/1797 at London, England.

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Hail, Father, whose creating call
Unnumbered worlds attend;
Jehovah, comprehending all,
Whom none can comprehend!

In light unsearchable enthroned,
Whom angels dimly see,
The fountain of the Godhead owned,
And foremost of the Three.

From Thee, through an eternal now,
The Son, Thine offspring, flowed;
An everlasting Father Thou,
An everlasting God.

Nor quite displayed to worlds above,
Nor quite on earth concealed;
By wondrous, unexhausted love,
To mortal man revealed.

Supreme and all-sufficient God,
When nature shall expire,
And worlds created by Thy nod
Shall perish by Thy fire.

Thy Name, Jehovah, be adored
By creatures without end,
Whom none but Thy essential Word
And Spirit comprehend

Samuel S Wesley Jr. died this date, 11/6/1739.  He was named for his father, Samuel S Wesley Sr., and was a brother of the famous revivalists John and Charles Wes­ley.  

Sam­u­el received his education at West­min­ster School and later at Christ Church, Ox­ford.  Samuel Jr. was one of the pro­mot­ers of an in­firm­a­ry at West­min­ster (1719).  He took the head mastership of Ti­ver­ton Free School (1732).  He had been born 2/10/1690 at London, England.

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O day of rest and gladness, O day of joy and light,
O balm of care and sadness, most beautiful, most bright:
On Thee, the high and lowly, through ages joined in tune,
Sing holy, holy, holy, to the great God Triune.

On Thee, at the creation, the light first had its birth;
On Thee, for our salvation, Christ rose from depths of earth;
On Thee, our Lord, victorious, the Spirit sent from heaven,
And thus on Thee, most glorious, a triple light was given.

Thou art a port, protected from storms that round us rise;
A garden, intersected with streams of paradise;
Thou art a cooling fountain in life’s dry, dreary sand;
From thee, like Pisgah’s mountain, we view our promised land.

Thou art a holy ladder, where angels go and come;
Each Sunday finds us gladder, nearer to heaven, our home;
A day of sweet refection, thou art a day of love,
A day of resurrection from earth to things above.

Today on weary nations the heavenly manna falls;
To holy convocations the silver trumpet calls,
Where Gospel light is glowing with pure and radiant beams,
And living water flowing, with soul refreshing streams.

New graces ever gaining from this our day of rest,
We reach the rest remaining to spirits of the blessed.
To Holy Ghost be praises, to Father, and to Son;
The church her voice upraises to Thee, blessed Three in One.

Christopher Wordsworth was born this date 10/30/1807, Bocking, Essex, England.  He was a nephew to William Wordsworth the poet.  He was headmaster of Harrow Boys School and a member of the Church of England was archdeacon of Westminster and later bishop of Lincoln. Christopher was an outstanding Greek scholar and published many works, including a commentary of the Bible.  Today we remember him for one of his 127 hymns  “O Day of Rest and Gladness.”  He died 3/20/1885 at Lincoln, England.

His statement about hymns is worth knowing, “It is the first duty of a hymn to teach sound doctrine and thence to save souls.”

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Thine forever! God of love,
Hear us from Thy throne above;
Thine forever may we be
Here and in eternity.

Thine forever! Lord of life,
Shield us through our earthly strife;
Thou, the Life, the Truth, the Way,
Guide us to the realms of day.

Thine forever! O how blest
They who find in Thee their rest!
Savior, Guardian, heavenly Friend,
O defend us to the end.

Thine forever! Savior, keep
These Thy frail and trembling sheep,
Safe alone beneath Thy care,
Let us all Thy goodness share.

Thine forever in that day
When the world shall pass away;
When the trumpet note shall sound,
And the nations underground

Shall the awful summons hear,
Which proclaims the judgment near.
Thine forever, ’neath Thy wings
Hide and save us, King of kings.

Thine forever! Thou our Guide,
All our wants by Thee supplied,
All our sins by Thee forgiven,
Lead us, Lord, from earth to Heaven.

Mary Fawler Hooper Maude was born this date, 10/25/1819 at Bloomsbury, London, England.  She wrote the above “Thine forever! God of love.”
Mary died sometime in 1913 at Over­ton, Flints­hire, Eng­land.

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The Day of Doom

Still was the night, Serene & Bright,
when all Men sleeping lay;
Calm was the season, & carnal reason
thought so ‘twould last for ay.
Soul, take thine ease, let sorrow cease,
much good thou hast in store:
This was their Song, their Cups among,
the Evening before.                   (stanza 1)

Michael Wigglesworth was born this date, 10/18/1631, at Wrawby, Lincolnshire  England.  He died 6/10/1705 at Malden, Middlesex County, Massachusetts.

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In the cross of Christ I glory,
Towering o’er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story
Gathers round its head sublime.

When the woes of life o’ertake me,
Hopes deceive, and fears annoy,
Never shall the cross forsake me,
Lo! it glows with peace and joy.

When the sun of bliss is beaming
Light and love upon my way,
From the cross the radiance streaming
Adds more luster to the day.

Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure,
By the cross are sanctified;
Peace is there that knows no measure,
Joys that through all time abide.

In the cross of Christ I glory,
Towering o’er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story
Gathers round its head sublime.

John Bowring, Sir, was born this date, 10/17/1792, at Exeter in Devon, England.  He was a statesman, was active in Parliament and then governor of Hong Kong.  He was knighted by the Queen 1854.

Bowring was a linguist – mastered five (5) languages by age sixteen (16) and could converse an hundred (100) languages before he died – try to imagine that.  John was also a merchant, a theologian, and the author of a total of sixteen (16) volumes.  Sir Bowring however is best known for this good hymn “In the Cross of Christ I Glory.”

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