Praise for the Lord #156
Words: Eliza E. Hewitt, 1890
Music: William J. Kirkpatrick, 1890
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| Eliza Edmunds Hewitt photo from Cyber Hymnal |
Eliza Edmunds Hewitt (1851-1920) was born in Philadelphia to James and Zeruiah Hewitt of Cape May, New Jersey ("Eliza Edmunds Hewitt"). Her middle and last names link her to the old Colonial families of Cape May, possibly even to Mayflower Pilgrims (cf. Howe). James S. Hewitt was a sea captain, successful enough eventually to own an eponymous schooner ("Marine miscellany"), and saw his children go into learned professions in the Philadelphia area. George Ayres Hewitt, the oldest, graduated from Jefferson Medical College and was a regular contributor to medical journals ("George Ayres Hewitt, M.D."); younger brother Luther Edmunds Hewitt was the librarian of the City Hall Law Library (Gopsill's 2573); and Eliza Edmunds Hewitt was a public school teacher before an debilitating injury changed the course of her life.
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| Lyons Public School in 1912 |
Biographers during her lifetime were not very specific about the injury that ended her public school career; Showalter says only that she was forced to resign by illness (280), and J. H. Hall specifies "serious spinal trouble" that forced her to resign and made her a shut-in for "a number of years" (345). It was not until 2003 that more details came to light: Dan Graves, writing about Hewitt for Christianity Today, was contacted by C. Edmunds Rhoad (grandson of Eliza's brother Luther) who revealed that Eliza was injured by a "reckless student striking her with a piece of slate" (Graves). Whether this was a student's writing slate or a loose slate from a roof is unclear, as well as the circumstances under which this happened.
As has been the case with a number of other hymnwriters, it seems that this forced retirement from public activity focused Hewitt's mind on devotional poetry. Hewitt had one hymn published already, in the words-only Hymns for Christian Worship (Cincinnati: Bosworth, Chase & Hall, 1871). But during her convalescence in the 1880s she began to show her prodigious ability in producing lyrics, and to make the connections that would get them set to music. Hewitt was becoming well known in Philadelphia Presbyterian circles; according to Hall, one of her hymns was placed in the cornerstone of the new Tabernacle Presbyterian Church in West Philadelphia, built in 1884 (Hall 345; Tabernacle United Church). John R. Sweney, choir director of Bethany Presbyterian in Philadelphia and music director for the popular religious encampment in Ocean Grove, New Jersey (Eskew), read some of Hewitt's lyrics and asked for more that he could set to music (Hall 345). Among the first of her lyrics widely published was "More about Jesus," set to music by Sweney; the invalid former teacher had written a song that was on the lips of Sunday School children across the country, and would go on to be her most widely-known contribution to gospel song.
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| Infant Praises (Philadelphia: John J. Hood, 1887) |
The chart above also shows that while Hewitt's number of different publishers, books, and composers for her new material held steady throughout the rest of her career, her overall output decreased significantly during the first four years of the new century. Ironically, this may have been related to her improved health; her old injury no longer kept her home and at her writing desk, and she devoted much of her time to the Sunday School department at Olivet Presbyterian Church (Showalter 280), and later at the Calvin Presbyterian Church (Gabriel 13). At one time she had charge of as many as 200 pupils (Hall 346), though certainly not without assistance! The rapid growth of Calvin Presbyterian from its beginnings at a tent revival in 1902 to a large, established congregation by 1904 corresponds with Hewitt's decrease in songwriting. The congregation has been described as "the outgrowth of a Sunday School" (Presbyterian Historical Society), and Hewitt was becoming directly involved with teaching and organizing in addition to writing songs and curriculum. She continued to lead the primary department as late as 1916 (Gabriel 13).
Something caused Hewitt's songwriting to increase again in the middle 1910s--whether she had more time to spend on it, or there was greater demand for her songs, is uncertain. The volume of publishing by Hall & Mack in Philadelphia remained strong during this decade, and Hewitt's songs were now also sought by a younger generation of gospel publishers such as Charles H. Gabriel and Homer Rodeheaver. The year 1917 saw the publication of 94 new songs by Eliza Hewitt, her biggest year since 1900 and sixth-highest yearly total. The following year shows a rapid falling off of writing, probably a result of declining health prior to her passing in 1920.
Miss Eliza E. Hewitt, who has written many beautiful hymns and poems for Mr. Kirkpatrick and other composers, several years ago called on me while I was in Philadelphia; and her visit was indeed a gracious benediction. At Assembly Park, New York, recently we renewed the friendship then so favorably begun; and there we spent many delightful hours in conversation about subjects dear to both of us (Crosby 199).
| From Hymnary.org |
Stanza 1:
For Christ and the Church let our voices ring,
Let us honor the name of our own blessed King;
Let us work with a will in the strength of youth,
And loyally stand for the kingdom of truth.
There used to be signs outside of many small towns across the United States that advertised the locations and meeting times of various religious bodies, with an underlying text "Attend the Church of Your Choice." No doubt this was more practical than a string of individual signs (like the old Burma-Shave ads), and I heartily appreciate the sentiment that I may attend the church of my choice--as opposed to a state church, or a list of government-approved churches. But there also seemed to be an underlying message that although church attendance was socially desirable, it didn't really matter much where you joined up. Through the years I have encountered people who profess a belief in God and put their faith in Christ as Savior, but don't believe in what one friend called "organized religion" (to which I should have said, paraphrasing Will Rogers, "I am not a member of any organized religion; I attend the Church of Christ.") Another coworker once expressed his view that he and the Lord "had an understanding," which apparently excused a lot of behavior that my own less enlightened upbringing would not have tolerated. I suspect a number of things lie behind such sentiments. In the first case, my friend may have disillusioned by the behavior of church members or leadership. In the latter case, there may have been more of a desire not to be accountable to anyone else in his walk with Christ, or to simply feel reassured that his spiritual condition was fine and did not require attention.
The crisis of the COVID-19 pandemic forced a lot of painful decisions about church gatherings, and as an elder in my congregation (at the time) I was in the middle of them. Given the vulnerable health of many of our members, and our location in the middle of a major metropolitan area where cases were rapidly multiplying, we opted to hold online services only for a period of time. But we had to get back together in person--no question about it, it was just a matter of when. Just as people had to go back to their jobs at some point for physical life to go on, it was clear that the church had to assemble together again for spiritual life to go on. So as carefully as we could, waving across a "buffer pew" between us and sometimes shouting to be understood from behind masks, we came together again. It was a time that really caused one to reflect on the church and its role in the Christian life. What part does it play in my life? What part do I play in it?
These questions probably would have sounded odd to Eliza Hewitt. Alexis de Tocqueville had noted earlier in the 19th century that,
Americans of all ages, all conditions, and all dispositions, constantly form associations. They have not only commercial and manufacturing companies, in which all take part, but associations of a thousand other kinds--religious, moral, serious, futile, extensive, or restricted, enormous or diminutive. The Americans make associations to give entertainments, to found establishments for education, to build inns, to construct churches, to diffuse books, to send missionaries to the antipodes ; and in this manner they found hospitals, prisons, and schools. If it be proposed to advance some truth, or to foster some feeling by the encouragement of a great example, they form a society (2:114).
This importance of clubs, associations, and other kinds of organizations was still very strong through Hewitt's time, and in fact down through the middle of the 20th century. An American simply took it as a given that a major part of life was participation in the community through clubs, societies, and of course through one's church. Does it need to be said that this is not who we are any more, at least for much of the population of the country? But the church still stands, whether our society embraces it or rejects it; and the questions above still stand. What have I to do with the church, and what does it have to do with me?
"And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it" (Matthew 16:18).
In such momentous fashion we first encounter the word "church" (Greek ekklēsia) in the New Testament, from the lips of Christ himself. Whether Jesus actually spoke the Greek word ekklēsia in the moment or an equivalent Aramaic word, it was this term that Matthew, our eyewitness, uses in the inspired text. He had already used synagōgē seven times in his gospel, and the verb form synagō an additional seven times, in the general sense of "gathering" or "collecting" something; the choice of a new and different word here emphasizes the newness of the concept (Porter 160). And for what it is worth, the extant Aramaic/Syriac versions of Matthew 16:18 use the term lˁēḏtā, which historically carried the notion of a group called as witnesses ("ˁdh, ˁdtˀ," Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon), and not the usual Aramaic term for synagogue (Payne-Smith, cf. 402, 218).
But what did His listeners hear in that word? The Liddell-Scott-Jones lexicon (1940 revision) defines it as an "assembly duly summoned, less general than [sullogos]." In the Greek cities, it was the assembly of citizens for civic business; by extension, in the Septuagint it was applied to the "congregation of Israel" as the nation called out by God (1:509). A quick Google search of sullogos shows that it is even today the Greek term for a professional association or or social club, such as a sullogos athlitikon (athletic club). Though ekklēsia could also refer to a general assembling of people, as it does in Acts 19:32 describing the rushing together of the citizens of Ephesus to protest Paul's preaching, even in that context the city clerk chides his fellow citizens for not being a "lawful" ekklēsia (Acts 19:39). Being part of an ekklēsia, then, was more serious than being part of some accidental gathering around a common interest or voluntary social organization. For the citizen of a Greek city it was a defining part of one's identity--one might have a lot in common with those in the same trade, or followers of the same philosophy, who were from other cities--but a fellow Athenian, or fellow Spartan, was practically family. Citizenship in the ekklēsia was a brotherhood and heritage, an obligation and a privilege.
Which no doubt raised the question in the apostles' minds, what could Jesus mean by building His own new ekklēsia? Though He had been proclaiming the "kingdom of heaven," Jesus had already rejected the notion of becoming an earthly king (John 6:15, following events also recorded in Matthew 14). He maintained this to the end, telling Pilate, "My kingdom is not of this world" (John 18:36), but explaining further, "You say that I am a king. For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world--to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to My voice" (John 18:37). Citizenship in Christ's kingdom is not something determined by ancestry or boundaries on a map; it is an ekklēsia made up of those who are called out of the "domain of darkness" (Colossians 1:13) by the foundational truth that Jesus Christ is the Son of God (Matthew 16:16). It is a "kingdom of truth," as Hewitt puts it in her opening stanza, an expression that is not found in Scripture but is certainly scriptural.
So it is "Christ and the church" or nothing at all; they cannot be taken separately. A church without Christ at its head--that is not in submission to His will--is a building suspended in air without a foundation, or even worse, a grotesquely animated body without a head (Ephesians 1:22). It may have impressive numbers and great works, but it would be better off reorganized as a social club or charitable foundation. And a Christian without the church is (somehow?) rejecting the the will of God who "added to their number day by day those who were being saved" (Acts 2:47), and is missing out on the called-out group of believers the Lord founded, "which is His body, the fullness of Him who fills all in all (Ephesians 1:23).
Chorus:
For Christ our dear Redeemer,
For Christ the crucified;
For the Church His blood hath purchased;
The Church, His holy bride.
In the chorus of this song, Hewitt rightly emphasizes Christ and His work first, because without Him the church would not and could not exist:
He is the image of the invisible God, the Firstborn of all creation. For by Him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities--all things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. And He is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything He might be preeminent. For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of His cross (Colossians 1:15-20).
It is not uncommon among the Churches of Christ to be reminded, especially among congregational leadership, to "remember whose name is on the sign outside." It is Christ's church, not mine, not yours, not the preacher's; and those who serve in roles of leadership must remember that we are just stewards and servants for a little while, who must someday report in to the "Chief Shepherd" (1 Peter 5:4). It is His church because He bought and paid for it at a price we cannot comprehend. He is the Head of the church, the will that directs it just as the brain in my head commands my fingers to type these words.
The last line of the chorus introduces another curious metaphor of Christ and His church, based on Paul's words in Ephesians 5:25-32.
Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that He might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church, because we are members of His body. "Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh." This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church.
Here the picture of Christ and the church as a Head and body is transformed to a different perspective; so closely does Christ cherish and treasure His church that it is compared to the powerful, transformative union of husband and wife. We cannot help but see a foreshadowing here also of the words of the angel in Revelation 21:9, "Come, I will show you the Bride, the wife of the Lamb." With what respect and awe, then, ought we to treat the Bride of Christ? Now, I try to be tolerant and forgiving to everyone, but mistreat my wife and I am liable to become downright unreasonable. I can forgive a lot when it is directed toward me, but my wife is entirely another matter. I suppose most husbands feel the same. How dare we then to do any anything to mistreat or upset the Bride of Christ? Let us always show the respect to the church that its Head and Husband commands, and never do anything to harm it!
Stanza 2:
For Christ and the Church be our earnest pray’r,
Let us follow His banner, the cross daily bear;
Let us yield, wholly yield, to the gospel’s pow’r,
And serve faithfully ev’ry day, ev'ry hour.
(Chorus)
In the 11th chapter of 2 Corinthians, Paul takes a few paragraphs to "speak as a fool" (v. 17), detailing some of his hardships--not for a "pity party" but to remind the readers of the genuineness of his calling and his commitment to the gospel. As an afterthought to the privations and punishments he had experienced, he adds in verse 28, "and, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches." "Earnest prayer" for the church is evident throughout Paul's letters:
For God is my witness, whom I serve with my spirit in the gospel of His Son, that without ceasing I mention you always in my prayers, asking that somehow by God's will I may now at last succeed in coming to you (Romans 1:9-10).
But we pray to God that you may not do wrong--not that we may appear to have met the test, but that you may do what is right, though we may seem to have failed. For we cannot do anything against the truth, but only for the truth. For we are glad when we are weak and you are strong. Your restoration is what we pray for (2 Corinthians 13:7-9).
I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now (Philippians 1:3-5).
And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding (Colossians 1:9).
We give thanks to God always for all of you, constantly mentioning you in our prayers, remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Thessalonians 1:2-3).
To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of His calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by His power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in Him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ (2 Thessalonians 1:11-12).
How much stronger could the local church be, if every member were offering up such prayers on its behalf?
The next line of Hewitt's stanza brings up another turn of phrase intimately connected with Jesus' announcement of the church in Matthew 16:18--the requirement that His followers bear their crosses (Luke's account records this with the adverb "daily," 9:23). Familiarity has probably led us to miss how out-of-place this seemed in context, but the disciples didn't have that problem. Jesus had started out by stating His own purpose to go to Jerusalem where He would bear a cross to His death, and Peter could not accept that the Son of God who had just previewed the founding of His church would go to such an ignominious end. Jesus rebuked Peter sharply, then spoke these words that ring in every disciple's ears since: "If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me" (Mat 16:24).
What does it mean to bear that cross daily? Perhaps it will help us to understand first what it meant to Jesus, as recorded in the beautiful language of Philippians 2:
Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though He was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross" (v. 5-8).
By bearing the cross to His death, Jesus would do (to an infinitely greater degree) what He required of His followers: He denied self. "Denying self" in this context is not some matter of refusing to partake of something we want; though that may be necessary in some particulars, Paul rejected mere asceticism on its own as "of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh" (Colossians 2:23). The denial spoken of here is the same language used of Peter in Matthew 26:70, "But he denied it, saying "I do not know the Man." Jesus was "in the form of God" but gave up His former condition of "equality with God" (Philippians 2:6), effectively denying connection to His former state and saying "I do not know the Man." He was in a new relation to His Father and to humanity. In the same way (though such a pale comparison!), if I have "put off the old self, which belongs to your former manner of life" and have "put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness" (Ephesians 4:22-24), I can say of my old self, "I do not know the man; I do not acknowledge his will, because I follow Christ now." Whatever cross He may call on me to bear, I can only take up by first kneeling under it in submission and acknowledging that I am no longer in charge here.
Now consider on the other hand what the cross does for us: it reconciles us to God and to fellow humanity (Ephesians 2:16); it takes away the debt of sin (Colossians 2:14); it makes peace (Colossians 1:20); "it is the power of God" (1 Corinthians 1:18). The "gospel's power" of which Hewitt speaks in this stanza began at the cross, as Jesus promised: "And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself" (John 12:32). Christ's church helps to carry out this wonderful mission, "not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power" (1 Corinthians 1:17), but through "Christ crucified" (1 Corinthians 1:23). It is the honor and duty of the church to carry this cross to the world, so that "through the church the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known," even "to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 3:10)
Stanza 3:
For Christ and the Church willing offerings make,
Time and talents and gold for the dear Master’s sake;
We will render the best we can bring to Him,
The heart’s wealth of love, that will never grow dim.
(Chorus)
This stanza addresses the subject of giving in a well-considered, comprehensive way. People typically think of offerings as the weekly contribution to the church treasury, so it is notable that Hewitt puts "time and talents" before "gold." In my experience those who give their time and talents to the Lord's service are also generous with their monetary contributions (if they are able), a phenomenon Paul pointed out long ago when he praised the Macedonian churches for their generosity: "they gave themselves first to the Lord and then by the will of God to us" (2 Corinthians 8:5). It is wonderful to see Christians who are well blessed in worldly goods and then dedicate those riches to the Lord, and I am glad to know some who hear of a brother or sister in financial difficulty and ask simply, "How much do they need?" But financial contributions alone are no substitute for the "time and talents" the church requires; money cannot buy sincere prayer and encouragement for the struggling, or the example and instruction of the mature Christian to the younger. Money cannot buy the listening ear or the honest criticism of someone who wants only the best for us. Money cannot buy someone to sit with us in the "Gethsemanes" of life. Who will do these things? (And don't say that's what you pay the preacher for!) We have all needed brothers and sisters like this, and conversely, there is someone in the church who needs me, and needs you, to be this brother or sister to them.
With that broader view of giving to the church in mind, Paul's great text on the subject from 2 Corinthians 9:6-12 takes on even deeper meaning:
The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work. As it is written, "He has distributed freely, he has given to the poor; his righteousness endures forever." He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness. You will be enriched in every way to be generous in every way, which through us will produce thanksgiving to God. For the ministry of this service is not only supplying the needs of the saints but is also overflowing in many thanksgivings to God (2 Corinthians 9:6-12)
God promises that if we sincerely wish to give, He will provide us the means to do it. Surely that applies as much to giving our time and effort as to giving money. It is a personal decision, of course; just as we would be poor stewards if we gave our rent money in the collection plate, we would be poor stewards to commit our time and effort to the church beyond what we can manage. (And if you are raising children, or caring for elderly family members, God has already given you a large assignment!) But let us start first with the attitude of "What can I do?" and not "What do I have to do?"
Stanza 4:
For Christ and the Church let us cast aside,
By His conquering grace, chains of self, fear, and pride;
May our lives be enriched by an aim so grand;
Then happy the call to the Savior’s right hand.
(Chorus)
The final stanza of the song may be an oblique reference to Hebrews 12:1, but in more of a community sense than that of the individual: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us." What holds back the individual, of course, holds back the church. There are many things that can keep us in chains--"you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness" (Romans 6:16)--and thank God there is One stronger yet who came to "proclaim liberty to the captives" and "set at liberty those who are oppressed" (Luke 4:18, cf. Isaiah 61:1-2). But first, of course, we have to realize we are in chains! "Self" and "pride" are two of the most powerful shackles by which we can be imprisoned; as Isaac Watts noted, "Pride is one vice but it supports a hundred" (Humility 41).
Pride in the church works in many ugly ways. Those in positions of public prominence who become puffed up by the members' praise and start "believing their own press" can develop a complacency about their work, a hostility to necessary criticism, and most dangerously, a blind spot toward their own faults and weaknesses. These individuals can become easy pickings for the Devil, and sometimes give him the satisfaction of wrecking an entire congregation as well. But pride can also haunt people who are not in such positions and think they should be. Bitterness can set in and stop them from even accomplishing those works which are right in front of them and begging for their talents. Their downfall is not as dramatic or as fast as the first group, but for very little effort on his part the Devil has effectively neutralized their usefulness to Christ's church.
The problem of pride is so critical that Paul addressed it multiple times, twice using the metaphor of the human body to illustrate the spiritual body of Christ:
For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another (Romans 12:3-5).
For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear should say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose (1 Corinthians 12:14-18).
Note the transition in the Romans passage from "thinking with sober judgment" about our place in the church, to the metaphor of the body. It is human nature to compare ourselves with others; but if we truly have different functions, as do the parts of the body, how relevant will that comparison be? Which is more important, a hand or a foot? We probably consider a hand more important because we can do so many things with it, whereas the lowly foot can only do a few things. But those few things include standing and walking! If you have ever had a broken toe, you know just how much we depend on all those little parts in the foot (which we take for granted) to do their jobs every day. Remember that the Head of the church himself took the role of the lowliest servant to wash the feet of His own followers, and never doubt the value of every role in the church.
These passages also have the common theme of God's hand in this sorting out of roles: this is something He "assigns" and "arranges," even though it is not always apparent to us what He is doing. It takes time to find our roles, or to grow into them, and sometimes they will change. Like everything else in the Christian life, it requires patience and humility.
I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Ephesians 4:1-2).
Being a church of Christ isn't easy, and it's not what people often think. It isn't a group of people who are always in agreement, bubbling over with joy in each other's company and so spiritually elevated that they are floating a little off the ground. But most of the really important and satisfying things in life aren't easy. Is marriage easy? Is raising children easy? Even at their best, these parts of life are hard work, because they involve other people, and dealing with people (even people we love the most) sometimes means frustration, tears, and a lot of apologizing and trying again. But God placed us in the church for a reason, and He knows best. In His wisdom He decided that we would have to get through this together, the weak and the strong, the mature and the novices, the introverts and the extroverts. None of us is so strong that we can go it alone; none of us is so weak that we cannot help someone else.
About the music:
My attempt to summarize William Kirkpatrick's career for this post finally grew so complicated that I decided to treat him in a separate essay; for now I have just a few observations about the music he contributed to this particular text. The style is that of a march, but a marching song such as Kirkpatrick would have known from his Civil War days, rather than the modern American march genre as it was being redefined by John Philip Sousa and others. "For Christ and the church" is actually contemporary with Sousa's classics Washington Post and High School Cadets, but sounds more like such wartime marching songs as George Frederick Root's "Battle Cry of Freedom" and "Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! the Boys are Marching" (which survives today as "Jesus Loves the Little Children").
Not that Kirkpatrick was necessarily old-fashioned; the American instrumental march style was developing its own personality, with a characteristic swagger and bravura that did not lend itself to sacred topics. But perhaps some of that spirit comes through in this tune after all, with the dramatic octave leap at the end of the second measure and the sudden pause at the end of the second phrase, as though gathering energy for the next surge forward. It is meant to excite, and one can only imagine how well received it was in its time, when it was still new and very much within the musical styles familiar to congregations. It sings easily even today, and has a forward motion that tends to keep the beat moving as if under its own power.
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