A Tribute to Lutheran Hymnology

Sing me the songs to my heart so dear, those Lutheran songs of old; their matchless melodies let me hear, their infinite charm unfold.

1918 Anna Hoppe The Lutheran Witness

A poem by Anna Hoppe in Volume 37, Number 11 of The Lutheran Witness, May 28th, 1918. A scan of the full issue can be found here.

Sing me the songs to my heart so dear,
Those Lutheran songs of old;
Their matchless melodies let me hear,
Their infinite charm unfold.
The beautiful strain as I hear it
In choral or vesper psalm
Breathes a peace divine o'er my spirit,
Bids my troubled heart be calm.

I hear the song of David again
When these dear old hymns are sung,
Or the strains of Hebrew captives when
Their harps on the willows hung.
Sweet echoes peal from a distant land;
With shepherds of Bethlehem
I hear in spirit the angels' band
Sing its '"Peace, good will to men."

I left the dulness of earth's enthrall,
My dear old Lutheran Church,
In the vastness of thy music-hall
For treasures divine to search.
I found them, — hid them deep in my heart,
These jewels of priceless worth,
From their possession never to part
For the wealth of all the earth.

They tell me, these songs, of Creation,
Of my Father's tender care,
How in trial and tribulation
He heareth His children's prayer.
They bid me e'er seek life eternal
In the flawless Word of God,
And point to the mansions supernal
When I leave this earthly sod.

They tell of my Lord's incarnation,
How He left heaven's pure delights;
How the Captain of my salvation
Died on Calv'ry's cruel heights.
How from the dark tomb He ascended
To His Father's throne of grace
My cause to plead, till life has ended,
And I see Him face to face.

They tell me how God's Holy Spirit
To my soul His Word imparts.
What a blessing it is to hear it;
How it comforts burdened hearts!
How His strength in the hour of trial
Can quell the onrushing tide;
How He stems the waves of denial,
My Pilot, Counselor, Guide.

Sing me the songs of Luther again,
Songs of Faith, and Hope, and Peace.
The inspired words of his master-pen
Bid my heart from sorrow cease.
When in days of sadness and illness
I tire of earth's lonely vale,
There thrills through the Sabbatic stillness
That Wittenberg nightingale.

How I love that Wittenberg singer!
Like a vesper bell's sweet toll
His melodious echoes linger
On the harp-strings of my soul.
"God is my Fortress," he is singing;
Hark! "The Just shall live by faith."
The sweet refrain continues ringing:
"Saved by grace, I fear not death."

Sing me those Lutheran songs divine,
The songs by the martyrs sung;
The songs so beautiful, so sublime,
That from Gcrhardt's soul were wrung;
Sing them over and over again,
These songs that I love so well,
Whose echo so sweet, "Good will to men,"
Peals forth with each Sabbath-bell.

Dear Church, were these melodies given
To thy trust from realms afar?
Did the Music Master in heaven
Leave the pearly gates ajar?
Their tunes, so harmoniously blended,
Tell of heavenly joys untold.
I'll love, till life's journey is ended,
These Lutheran songs of old.

Milwaukee, Wis.
Anna Hoppe