In a far humbler sphere, but representing the same faith and fervour as Toplady, and also carried away young, was Cennick. In an article in the Christian Remembrancer, on English hymnology, written very much for the purpose of throwing contempt on all the hymn-writers of the Revival, Cennick is spoken of as “a low and violent person; his hymns peculiarly offensive, both as to matter and manner.” Some exceptions are made by the reviewer for “Children of the Heavenly King.” We may presume, therefore, that to this writer, “Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb,” is one of the “peculiarly offensive.” This is not wonderful, when in the next page we read that “the hymns of Newton are the very essence of doggerel.” This sounds rather strange, as a verdict, to those who have felt the particular charm of that much-loved hymn, “How sweet the name of Jesus sounds!” It is not without a purpose that we refer to this paper in the Christian Remembrancer—evidently by a very scholarly hand—because its whole tone shows how the sacred song of the Revival would be likely to be regarded by those who had no sympathy with its evangelical teaching. The writer, for instance, speaking of Wesley’s hymns, doubts whether any of them could possibly be included by any chance in English hymnology! “Jesus, lover of my soul,” is said, “in some small degree to approximate to the model of a Church hymn!” Of the Countess of Huntingdon’s hymn-book, the writer says, “We shall certainly not notice the raving profanity!” It is not necessary further either to sadden or to irritate the reader by similar expressions; but the entire paper, and the criticisms we have cited, will show what was likely to be the effect of the hymns of the Revival on many similar minds of that time. In fact, the joy of the Revival work arose from this, that no person, no priest, nor Church usage, was needed to interpose between the soul and the Saviour. Faith in Christ, and His immediate, personal presence with the soul seeking Him by faith, as it was the burden of the best of the sermons, so it was, also, of all the great hymns.
The origin and the authors of several eminent hymns are certainly obscure. To Edward Perronet must be assigned the authorship of the fine coronation anthem of the Lamb that was slain: “All hail the power of Jesus’ name!”
Another, which has become a universal favourite, is “Beyond the glittering starry globe.” This is a noble and inspiring hymn; only a few verses are usually quoted in our hymn-books. Lord Selborne divides its authorship between Fanch and Turner. We have seen it attributed to Olivers; this is certainly a mistake. The Quarterly Review, in a very able paper on hymnology, reproducing an old legend concerning it, traces it to two brothers in a humble situation in life, one an itinerant preacher, the other a porter. The preacher desired the porter to carry a letter for him. “I can’t go,” said the porter, “I am writing a hymn.” “You write a hymn, indeed! Nonsense! you go with the letter, and I will finish the hymn.” He went, and returned, but the hymn was unfinished. The preacher had taken it up at the third verse, and his muse had forsaken him at the eighth. “Give me the pen,” said the porter, and he wrote off,
“They brought His chariot from above,
To bear Him to His throne;
Clapped their triumphant wings, and cried,
‘The glorious work is done!’”
Unfortunately the author of the paper in the Quarterly Review appears never to have seen the hymn in its entirety. The verse he cites is not the eighth, but the twenty-second, and it has been mutilated almost wherever quoted; the verse itself is part of an apostrophe to the angels, recalling their ministrations round our Lord:
“Tended His chariot up the sky,
And bore Him to His throne;