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DOROTHY ANN THRUPP

NE of the many gospel hymns which

Ο have become popular, quite largely

through attractive musical settings, is entitled, "The Good Shepherd," and is frequently ascribed to Miss Thrupp:

Saviour, like a shepherd lead us,

Much we need Thy tenderest care;
In Thy pleasant pastures feed us,
For our use Thy folds prepare:
Blessed Jesus,

Thou hast bought us, Thine we are.

We are Thine, do Thou befriend us,
Be the guardian of our way;
Keep Thy flock, from sin defend us,
Seek us when we go astray :
Blessed Jesus,

Hear, O hear us, when we pray.

Thou hast promised to receive us,

Poor and sinful though we be;

Thou hast mercy to relieve us,

Grace to cleanse, and power to free:
Blessed Jesus,

We will early turn to Thee.

Early let us seek Thy favor,
Early let us do Thy will;
Blessed Lord and only Saviour,
With Thy love our bosoms fill:
Blessed Jesus,

Thou hast loved us, love us still.

It was first given to

Unfortunately the authorship of the hymn is involved in doubt. the English public in 1836, without signature, in a little volume by Miss Thrupp which bore the title, "Hymns for the Young." Two years later the hymn was printed in an English monthly and credited to Henry Francis Lyte, author of "Abide with Me." It was included in a number of other publications in the course of a few years, and in each instance without credit. In the United States, the Hymnal of the Protestant Episcopal Church credits the hymn to Lyte. Several gospel song-books attribute it to Miss Thrupp, as also does the Hymnal of the Methodist Episcopal Church; but the "Plymouth Hymnal," "In Excelsis," and "The Hymnal" (Presbyterian) publish it anonymously.

The hymn is a favorite throughout

Great Britain, and in America it has been greatly popularized by William B. Bradbury's catching music. But aside from the expressive music to which it is sung, the hymn is not without merit. Evidently it is the product of some heart which was properly attuned "to make melody unto the Lord."

Miss Thrupp was born in London in 1779, and became well known as a successful writer of children's hymns. On the whole no substantial reason seems to exist why she should not be credited with the authorship of "The Good Shepherd," and this position is somewhat strengthened by the fact that the hymn cannot be traced to the works of Mr. Lyte.

PHOEBE HINSDALE BROWN

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HE first American woman to write a hymn of wide popularity was Mrs. Brown, who was born at Canaan, New York, in 1783. Her parents died when she was two years old. From that time

her life was full of hardships and privation until, when she was eighteen, kind friends gave her protection, and also school privileges at Claverack, New York, where she united with the Congregational Church. In 1805 Miss Hinsdale was married to Timothy H. Brown, a house-painter by trade, but the union was not a happy one. Some years after their marriage they settled at Monson, Massachusetts, where they resided thirty years. In 1850 Mrs. Brown removed to Henry, Illinois, making her home with a daughter, where her death occurred in 1861.

It was in 1818, at Ellington, Connecticut, where the Browns lived a few years, that Mrs. Brown wrote the lines which

are found in so many American hymnals. Two small rooms comprised the living apartments of the parents and children. There was no place in the home for quiet devotion; and in the twilight of a summer evening it was her custom to walk down a lane to a cluster of small trees, and under their branches to kneel in humble, grateful prayer. A wealthy woman whose house Mrs. Brown slowly passed in these evening walks, once said to her in a harsh tone and in the presence of company: "Why do you come up at evening so near our house and then go back without coming in? If you want anything why don't you come in and ask for it?" The words deeply wounded the feelings of this sensitive and sorrowful woman; but the incident furnished the inspiration for a hymn of great usefulness. Returning to her wretched home, and taking one of her children in her arms, she wrote these lines:

I love to steal awhile away

From every cumbering care,
And spend the hours of setting day
In humble, grateful prayer.

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