Isaac Watts; his life and writings, his homes and friends

by Edwin Paxton Hood

To Thee, as to our covenant-God,

We’ll our whole selves resign;

And count that not our tenth alone,

But all we have is Thine.

It is not generally known that Doddridge pursued for many years the practice of Watts—perhaps he derived it from him—of writing a hymn after each or many of his sermons, so that the volume of his hymns is a tolerably large one, numbering three hundred and forty-seven. Many of them have great evangelical tenderness and beauty; we do not remember that they ever depart from a good and correct taste; they never soar up to Watts’ daring heights, but they are often very sweet and exquisite; they are like the notes of a nightingale in the depths of evening shades, or sometimes like dove-like wings flashing near to the earth, but in the bright sunshine, “wings tipped with silver, or feathers of yellow gold.” And, perhaps, we appreciate rather more the frequent ecstasy of his hymns in the memory of the fact that the story of his own life shows him not to have been incapable of human passion.

To Doddridge we are indebted for a pleasing illustration of the early reception of Watts’ sacred verses; Southey has quoted it in his life of Watts; the incident shows that the hymns, in spite of the sneers of Bradbury, were hailed with much delight, as supplying a very great want, not only in public but domestic service. The letter from Doddridge is dated 1731.

“Till heaven is enriched by your removal thither, I hope, sir, to find in you a counsellor and a friend, if God should continue my life, and I cannot but admire the goodness of Providence in honouring me with the friendship of such a person. I can truly say your name was in the number of those which were dearest to me long before I ever saw you. Yet, since I have known you, I cannot but find something of a more tender pleasure in the thought of your successful various services in the advancement of the best causes, that of real, vital, practical Christianity. What happened under my observation a few days ago gave me joy with regard to you, which is yet so warm in my mind, that I hope, sir, you will pardon my relating the occasion of it. On Wednesday last I was preaching in a barn to a pretty large assembly of plain country people at a village a few miles off. After a sermon from Hebrews vi. 12, we sang one of your hymns (which, if I remember right, was the 140th of the second book). And in that part of the worship I had the satisfaction to observe tears in the eyes of several of the auditory, and after the service was over, some of them told me that they were not able to sing, so deeply were their minds affected with it, and the clerk in particular told me he could hardly utter the words of it.[27] These were most of them poor people who work for their living. On the mention of your name, I found they had read several of your books with great delight, and that your hymns and psalms were almost their daily entertainments. And when one of the company said, ‘What if Dr. Watts should come down to Northampton?’ another replied, with a remarkable warmth, ‘The very sight of him would be like an ordinance to me!’ I mention the thing just as it was, and am persuaded it is but a familiar, natural specimen of what often occurs amongst a multitude of Christians who never saw your face. Nor do I by any means intend it as a compliment to a genius capable of entertaining by the same compositions the greatest and the meanest of mankind, but to remind you, dear sir (with all the deference and humility due to a superior character), how much you owe to Him who has honoured you as the instrument of such extensive service. Had Providence cast my lot near you, I should joyfully have embraced the most frequent opportunities of improving my understanding and warming my heart by conversing with you, which would surely have been greatly for my advantage as a tutor, a minister, and a Christian. As it is, I will omit none which may fall in my way; and when I regret that I can enjoy no more of you here, will comfort myself with the thoughts of that blessed state where I hope for ever to dwell with you, and to join with you in sweeter and sublimer songs than you have taught the Church below.”

One of the most notable persons who crossed the life of Dr. Doddridge was Colonel James Gardiner: the stern soldier loved the gentle Doctor, and not less did the gentle spirit of the Doctor attach itself firmly to the stern soldier. Another instance of the singular hinges on which friendships are suspended. Doddridge wrote his life, and it created no little sensation, especially in those circles to which Colonel Gardiner belonged. One of the last letters of the Countess of Hertford to Dr. Watts refers so distinctly to this book and to the character of Doddridge, that it may appropriately find a place here:

“Percy Lodge, Nov. 15, 1747.