The Kirk on Rutgers Farm Part 6

Work among the cosmopolitan population surrounding the church has had various phases during these years.

In Dr. Hopper's time the Scandinavian element among Borella's men predominated, and there was also a small Syrian group at the church, but no services in any language but English were maintained.

Later, home cla.s.ses in German for the parents of many of the children were kept up for a number of years.

Work among the Jews was carried on for several years and with success, if numbers count. But the methods of the leader were not approved and so the trustees after investigation discontinued the meetings. Dr.

John Hall, of the Fifth Avenue church, then most prominent, earnestly supported the man, but in afteryears the correctness of the position taken by Market Street was abundantly proven.

Greek services were supported for quite a while, and since 1914 Russian has been maintained under Mr. Nicholas Motin.

Italian services have been of all these most successful. Rev. Joseph A.

Villelli, who was ordained June 23, 1910, has managed these with tact and ability "and the Lord added to the church daily such as should be saved." A separate Sunday school is maintained, but with the idea of gradual amalgamation, a process that is also proving its wisdom along other lines of the church's work.

The advice and active support of men great in business have for many years been at the disposal of the church. From the days of Matthias Bruen, the merchant princes of this great city have been loyal friends, to mention only Hanson K. Corning, father, daughter, grandson, William E. Dodge--for three generations,--and John Crosby Brown and his family.

Along with the sainted Denham should be mentioned Benjamin F. Pinkham, who for twenty years acted as treasurer of the church. He was a quiet man, faithful in every duty, averse to discussion. When the Lord called him home his accounts were in perfect order: a few minutes proved his balance, a s.p.a.ce was left for next Sunday's collection in his book.

There were sweet singers in Israel, too, who as precentors and choir leaders have brought out the best there was of tuneful harmony, men like Henry Carpenter, George T. Matthews, Henry Edwards, Allan Robinson, William P. Dunn.

Thru the years some who have cared for the buildings stood out. Charles Greer in the early days, Evan Price, a st.u.r.dy Welshman, who died in service, Christian C. Pedersen, who returned to the same post years afterwards. In Mr. Denison's time David J. Ranney served, attaining later to the dignity of city missionary and an autobiography. John A.

Ross will be remembered for his omniscience as to people and things about the old church.

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So the old Kirk on Rutgers Farm has stood a hundred years. From its vaulted dome have echoed with no uncertain sound the voices of men like the scholarly Milledoler or the indefatigable Denison, a hundred leaders of men whose words and works have swayed the hearts of men.

Down the broad aisles walked the stately Dutchman, the proud Knickerbocker, the great merchant, the stolid seaman, the busy New Yorker,--to go out and by deeds of victory in times of peace and unflinching loyalty when war's heavy heels trod the land they helped make a great city greater and a mighty nation mightier still.

Never has this been a selfish, self-contained organism, but a living, throbbing influence that went out beyond the shadow of its gray walls, prodigal in giving to others the good things of the gospel that were fostered there. Many a church at home and abroad has cause to bless Market Street for the men and women that she brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.

"We are compa.s.sed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, a great mult.i.tude, which no man could number." All who have come have felt the spell of the place, for in its dim seclusion still speak the men of old.

It is peopled with a long procession of saints and sages, mariners and merchants, scholars and poets, now of the church triumphant: memories that consecrate the souls of men and banish ign.o.ble thoughts. Here is an altar sacred to hosts of men and women, the holy of holies of their n.o.blest aspirations.

"Mark well her bulwarks, that ye may tell it to the generation following." As the years roll on children and children's children will arise and call those blessed whose fidelity thru a century has preserved for them a holy place where "men still renew their youth."

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JESUS, SAVIOR, PILOT ME

Jesus, Savior, pilot me, Over life's tempestuous sea; Unknown waves before me roll, Hiding rock and treacherous shoal; Chart and compa.s.s come from Thee, Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When the apostle's fragile bark Struggled with the billows dark On the stormy Galilee, Thou didst walk upon the sea; And when they beheld Thy form Safe they glided thru the storm.

Tho the sea be smooth and bright, Sparkling with the stars of night, And my s.h.i.+p's path be ablaze With the light of halcyon days, Still I know my need of Thee; Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When the darkling heavens frown.

And the wrathful winds come down, And the fierce waves, tost on high, Lash themselves against the sky, Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

Over life's tempestuous sea.

As a mother stills her child Thou canst hush the ocean wild; Boisterous waves obey Thy will When Thou sayest to them "Be still."

Wondrous Sovereign of the sea, Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When at last I near the sh.o.r.e, And the fearful breakers roar, 'Twixt me and the peaceful rest, Then, while leaning on Thy breast, May I hear Thee say to me, "Fear not, I will pilot thee."

Edward Hopper.

THE OLD CHURCH

The old church long has stood,-- For ages may it stand, Storehouse of heavenly food And lighthouse of the land.

Within its sacred walls What thousands, now asleep, Where its blest shadow falls Have bowed to pray and weep!

Old church, with doctrines old As G.o.d's eternal truth, Within its sacred fold Men still renew their youth.

Still in its water springs, Whose streams are never dry, Hope bathes her drooping wings, And gathers strength to fly.

Still from its tower of light The radiant truth is given To cheer men thru the night And guide them on to heaven.

Edward Hopper.

THE OLD FLAG

Flag of the brave and free!

Flag of our Liberty!

Of thee we sing; Flag of our father's pride, With their pure heart's-blood dyed, When fighting side by side, Our pledge we bring.

By their pure martyr-blood Poured on Columbia's sod For Liberty; By all their deeds of old, Their hunger, thirst and cold, Their battles fierce and bold, We'll stand by thee!

Thy 'venging stripes shall wave To guard the homes they gave; Thy stars shall s.h.i.+ne Upon oppression's night, To give the patriot light And make the dark world bright With hope divine.

We pledge our heart and hand To bear thee o'er the land That G.o.d made free,-- Till all its vales and hills, Its rivers and its rills,-- Till the whole nation thrills With victory!

Fear not, O s.h.i.+p of State!

Tho pirates with fierce hate May cross thy sea:-- Fear not; at thy mast head We've nailed the blue, white, red Old Flag! Our fathers bled, And so can we!