Unlike women preachers, who are still a bit suspect, women hymn-writers have been accepted and respected for a century and a half. That’s only fair, seeing that women probably make up the majority of hymn-singers. Not the first historically but undoubtedly the first in rank is Cecil Frances Alexander. She was the wife of an Irish clergyman who later became Archbishop of Armagh and her hymns appeared during that purple period of British hymn-writing, the second half of Queen Victoria’s reign. As a matter of fact, her first book of hymns was published before she was married, when she was Miss C. F. Humphreys. Her godsons, so the story goes, complained that the catechism, which they were swotting up for confirmation, was difficult and boring. Her response was to write a set of verses illustrating the different clauses of the Creed for their benefit – verses that were published in 1848 under the title Hymns for Little Children. (It is not recorded what her godsons’ reaction was to that title.)
JOHN BETJEMAN: Sweet Songs of Zion (Hodder and Stoughton, 2007)
Born in Dublin, she was the third child of Major John Humphreys and Elizabeth, née Reed. Encouraged in her childhood by Dr Walter Hook, Dean of Chichester, to write poetry, she was later strongly influenced by the Oxford Movement and in particular John Keble, who edited her Hymns for Little Children (1848). Verses for Holy Seasons had appeared in 1846, followed by The Lord of the Forest and His Vassals (1847), and her work featured in Church of Ireland hymn books from her mid-twenties. In October 1850 she married the Anglican clergyman William Alexander, who later became Archbishop of Armagh and Protestant Primate of Ireland. Six years younger than his wife, he too published several books of poetry, the most celebrated of which was St Augustine’s Holiday and Other Poems. Cecil Frances Alexander was devoted all her life to charitable work, and used the profits from her early volumes of poetry to build the Derry and Raphoe Diocesan Institution for the Deaf and Dumb, which was founded in 1846 in Strabane. She was also involved with the Derry Home for Fallen Women. Through the simplicity of her poems she attempted to explain aspects of the Christian faith to little children: the mystery of the Incarnation, for example, in ‘Once in royal David’s city’, and the Apostles’ Creed in ‘All things bright and beautiful’. Her husband, William Alexander, published a posthumous collection of her verse, Poems of the Late Mrs Alexander, a year after her death. According to Charles Gounod, some of her lyrics ‘seemed to set themselves to music’, and Tennyson declared her ‘Burial of Moses’ to be one of the few poems by a living author he wished he had written.
Once in royal David’s City,
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her Baby
In a manger for His bed.
Mary was that mother mild,
JESUS CHRIST her little Child.
He came down to earth from Heaven
Who is God and Lord of all,
And His shelter was a stable,
And His cradle was a stall;
With the poor, and mean, and lowly
Lived on earth our SAVIOUR Holy.
And through all His wondrous childhood,
He would honour and obey,
Love and watch the lowly maiden,
In whose gentle arms He lay.
Christian children all must be
For He is our childhood’s Pattern,
Day by day like us He grew,
He was little, weak and helpless,
Tears and smiles like us He knew;
And He feeleth for our sadness,
And He shareth in our gladness.
And our eyes at last shall see Him,
Through His Own redeeming love,
For that Child so dear and gentle
Is our LORD in Heaven above;
And He leads His children on
To the place where He is gone.
Not in that poor lowly stable,
With the oxen standing by,
We shall see Him; but in Heaven,
Set at GOD’s right Hand on high;
When like stars His children crowned,
All in white, shall wait around.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,1
All things wise and wonderful,
The LORD GOD made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
The rich man in his castle,2
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.
The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brighten up the sky; –
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day; –
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we may tell,
How great is GOD Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear LORD was crucified,
Who died to save us all.
We may not know, we cannot tell,
What pains He had to bear,
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.
He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might go at last to Heaven,
Saved by His precious Blood.
There was no other good enough
To pay the price of sin;
He only could unlock the gate
Of Heaven, and let us in.
O dearly, dearly has He loved,
And we must love Him too,
And trust in His redeeming Blood,
And try His works to do.