Visitors at the Chautauqua Assembly, especially in the days of its founder, Bishop J. H. Vincent, can never forget the Sunday evening vesper services. One hymn in particular was always sung: “Day is Dying in the West,” written by Mary A. Lathbury, at Bishop Vincent’s request.
This happened to be President Wilson’s favorite hymn. His remains were carried to Bethlehem Chapel on the cathedral grounds in Washington, D. C. Over the outer door of this chapel the inscription in the stone work is “The Way of Peace.” During the service the men’s voices of the choir led by a clear tenor gave the favorite hymn an infinitely sweet appeal, especially the lines:
“Gather us who seek Thy face To the fold of Thy embrace, For Thou art nigh.”
It has been well said that some tunes and hymns are so closely united that one recalls the other. Thus it was that
The service was held in the quaint little Unitarian Church in Washington, D. C. Floral wreaths and sprays abounded, representing the deep affection and high respect for a former President of the United States and later the Chief Justice. The dirge notes of Chopin’s Funeral March, a flourish of trumpets saluting a President, and the tolling of the great bell of All Souls’ Church, as has been the practice since 1822 at the passing of Presidents, constituted parts of this impressive service. No hymns were sung but there was the soft music of the bells which pealed forth the strains of “Abide With Me.” The words were not spoken but the familiar verses ran through the minds of the congregation:
“Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide, The darkness deepens—Lord, with me abide! When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O, abide with me.”
Few hymns have had so many remarkable associations as, “Peace, Perfect Peace,” written by Bishop Edward H. Bickersteth. It has brought comfort to many and on one occasion, as stated below, the author himself was
An informed contributor to _The Churchman_ writes as follows of this hymn’s vogue: “It has been sung at the obsequies of princes and statesmen as well as at the funerals of the poor. It has afforded consolation to the mourner in the palace as well as to the grief-stricken peasant in the cottage. It was a favorite hymn with the good old Queen of England, and it was sung in her death chamber at Osborne. It has sustained the lonely soul of Bishop Hannington when he was a caged prisoner in Central Africa awaiting execution from the hand of a heathen king. They were the sweet stanzas that bound up the broken heart of General Roberts when his only son was placed in a soldier’s grave in South Africa. It has been sung at the interment of authors, actors and statesmen in Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s. When in the cemetery of the village of Chislebon, Wiltshire, England, the early harvest was being gathered and shepherds were folding their flocks, the venerable prelate stood at the head of his eldest son’s open grave as this hymn, so often quoted in the hour of death and sung on the day of burial, struck a note of Christian hope to the bereaved spirit of its author. On this side of the Atlantic the hymn is sung at almost every funeral service conducted in church, and Mr. Coldbeck’s appropriate tune, ‘Pax Tecum,’ is singularly adapted to its soothing and inspiring strains.”