CHAPTER V: MORGAN RHYS--DAVID WILLIAMS--BENJAMIN FRANCIS.

MORGAN RHYS--DAVID WILLIAMS--BENJAMIN FRANCIS.

We are still in the eighteenth century; and we must linger in the romantic though little known Vale of Towy, to make the acquaintance of two more sacred poets of Wales. One of these is MORGAN RHYS, the story of whose life is almost entirely lost. We have, however, the memoir of his soul safely kept in his hymns and elegies. Being a contemporary and neighbour of David Jones and William Williams, he seems to have felt the stress and storm of the same religious conflict; and his devotion has very much of the same deep and fervent colour. He was influenced largely by the potent spirit of Griffith Jones, of Llanddowror, the Morning Star of the Great Revival; and for a time undertook the care of one of his Circulating Schools.

These schools were instituted to impart the simplest forms of elementary knowledge in country villages. After a schoolmaster had been for a while engaged in removing the dense ignorance of one district, he had to leave it for another; so the 'little knowledge' was scattered far and wide, although in very small instalments. In the latter part of his life, Mr. Rhys established a stationary school on his own responsibility: most probably in order that he might have more of personal freedom in hig evangelistic work. For he was one of the band of Calvinistic Methodist itinerant preachers that rendered noble service in that age to the renaissance of national piety. His hymns reflect strongly the theological lights and shades of his day; when the human side of Redemption was to a very considerable extent ignored, so as to emphasize the divine side of it. The total depravity of man--the impossibility of salvation by means of legal obedience--the need of the atonement, and its sufficiency--these are the doctrines which his harp translates into song. When he once went to [30]Williams, Pantycelyn, and read out to him one of his hymns, that master of sacred song told him that it contained the experience of a 'good Christian and a half.' His hymns reveal a mind dwelling much in pleasant melancholy, as in the shadow of leafy branches flecked with sunlight. __________________________________________________________________

[31]Morgan Rhys
I promise every day
To keep The narrow way,
But daily fail:
God of the bush of yore,
Strengthen me more and more;
If Thou but walk before,
I shall prevail.
A thousand evil foes
Around my pathway close,
And I am weak:
Give me Thy hand, I pray,
To hold me in the way;
And in the latter day,

Lord, for me speak! __________________________________________________________________

[32]Morgan Rhys

In the two following verses we seem to hear the far-off noise of battle--a dim echo from the theological conflicts of bygone days, when the term 'Antinomian' was a favourite missile to hurl at an opponent.

All praise to Christ the Righteous
Who for my sin has died,
And from the grave has risen
That I be justified:
Upon His throne of pity
He intercedes for me,
And names His life of sorrow,
His death upon the tree.
Now in the face of Moses,
No friend shall have my plea:
But Jesus Christ the Righteous
Who died for one like me!
In Jordan's swelling torrent,
Or in that 'day to come,'
I know His hand will hold me,
And safely bring me home.

'Now in the face of Moses,' has in it the martial ring of some famous old battle-cry. __________________________________________________________________

[33]Morgan Rhys

A similar theme is handled in these glowing verses:

Lord, open mine eyes to behold
The worth of Thy wondrous decree:
Far better than silver and gold,
The law of Thy mouth is to me:
The fire shall consume all below,
But Thou art the same, and Thy plan--
'Tis life everlasting to know
My Saviour as God and as Man.
O wonder of infinite cost!
The way that He took in His grace,
To rescue a man that was lost,
By dying Himself in His place!
He conquered the serpent's despite,
And stood there alone as my King
He leadeth us now in His might--
Let those on the Rock shout and sing.
The Mighty One has overcome,
His foes in confusion retire;
And Zion is on its way home
In terrible chariots of fire;
The saints and the angels unite,
A white-shining numberless throng,
To bear through the realms of the light,

To Him the all-conquering song. __________________________________________________________________

[34]Morgan Rhys

The other illustration from the hymns of Morgan Rhys comes in less familiar form:

O welcome, blessed morrow!
No foe, nor any sorrow
Can reach the land of life:
The conquering throng
Shall gather with song,
From all this world of strife.
In Salem's tranquil regions
No sound of warring legions
Breaks on the music fair:
The Saviour will be
My heaven for me--
And no one sinneth there!
The grave will be so peaceful,
Until the dawning blissful
Shall wake me from my rest:
And then I shall rise
With joy to the skies,
In Jesu's likeness drest.
There is the crown of brightness,
And robes of purest whiteness,
And holy festival:
No evil is there,
No enemy dare
Approach its pearlèd wall.
There God is ever glorious,
The Lamb is all-victorious,
O blessed Three in One!
My soul was a brand
Plucked out by His hand--

When shall His praise be done? __________________________________________________________________

David Williams

Another schoolmaster under Griffith Jones, and a maker of sacred songs also, was DAVID WILLIAMS, who was born near Llandovery, in the year 1718; and died October 1, 1794, at Llandilo-fach, in the county of Glamorgan. Very little is known of him; and it seems probable that still less would be known, were it not for the severity of his domestic trials. His wife was an advanced, pupil of the school of Xantippe; and her violent temper kept the poet's sensitive spirit in exquisite torment. Among other troubles, he had to change his denomination on her account. But whatever of that, as in the case of another sweet singer who had to practise 'on an evil spirit,' his harp lost none of its tenderness of devotion. Some of his verses rank among the best in Welsh hymnology; and one especially is known wherever the Welsh tongue is spoken. He has not enclosed so much systematic theology in his hymns as
[35]Morgan Rhys: rather is he the minstrel of the mortal strife of men, with their sorrow and joy and divine endeavour. Many a troubled soul can join him in this remonstrance with doubt: __________________________________________________________________

[36]David Williams
Unbelief, let me have quiet,
Else my cry of pain shall rise
From this valley of affiction
To the gracious dawning skies:
There for me my Brother pleadeth,
Unforgetting day or night:
He will come and break my fetters,
He will lead me into light.
Little Faith, where art thou hiding?
For thy ministry take heart:
Why, sweet Hope, art thou so timid?
For the feeble do thy part:
Soon the battle will be over--
Unbelief, away! away!
Though I am so faint and helpless,

I am gaining ground each day. __________________________________________________________________

[37]David Williams

In another hymn we are still touched with the anguish of the strife:

Hear my grief! believe I cannot
That for me there is a hope,
Who, between two weak opinions
Halting, in the darkness grope:
Fearing much and trusting little,
Shall I stand at last or fall?
Fearing evil hosts of darkness,
Fearing self the most of all!
Sometimes in the gloomy valley,
Sometimes on the sunny height;
Sometimes drinking Marah's waters,
Sometimes wine of pure delight:
Sometimes sighs and bitter meanings,
Sometimes joy on every string;
Sometimes low beneath the billows,
Sometimes sunward on my wing.
I am trusting, come what happen,
Trusting in the word of grace--
That the riven Rock of Ages
Is my perfect hiding-place:
In the cleft there is a Refuge,
In the cleft is sweetest calm;
In the cleft alone is safety--

Wounds of Christ, unblemished Lamb. __________________________________________________________________

[38]David Williams

In most of his hymns he keeps the same figure or phrase through all his verses. In the following he sings of the 'breezes of Mount Zion':

Lord, let the gladdening breezes
Revive this soul of mine,
And raise it, weak and wearied,
To Heaven's air benign:
The breeze will break and scatter
The clouds that hang so low;
I long to feel its freshness--
From heaven let it blow!
The breezes of Mount Zion
Kindle the holy flame;
The breezes of Mount Zion
Renew the feeble frame:
Oft in the breeze of Zion
My soul with song would fill;
And I shall yet be singing,
Before I reach the hill.
The breezes of Mount Zion
Shall fill the sails again;
And lift the stranded vessel
To voyage o'er the main:
The breezes of Mount Zion
Leave all the sky aglow;--
In Canaan's sunny valleys

No cold winds ever blow. __________________________________________________________________

[39]David Williams

It must have been during one of his sunward flights that he saw this radiant vision of Eternal Love standing in the midst of all change without a cloud on its brow, without a fear in its soul:

Oh! the grace no will can conquer!
The omnipotence of love!
Changeless is my Father's promise,
It will never, never move:
In the storm this is my anchor--
God can never change His mind;
In the wounds of Christ He promised

Life to me: and He is kind. __________________________________________________________________

[40]David Williams

But the verse that has undoubtedly travelled wherever the Welsh language has, is the one of which I give the first line as it stands in the original:

Yn y dyfroedd mawr a'r tonnau.

It is the popular tradition that one stormy night, on reaching home after having been away preaching, he was hailed with all the bitterness the practised tongue of his wife could command. It was more than he could bear: he preferred the company of the storm without to the mad rhetoric within, so away he went, and stood on the banks of the River Llwchwr. The rush of the raging torrent and the noise of the wild night brought to his mind another river and another night, when his soul would be overwhelmed by the desolate presence of death. What hope would remain loyal then? What help would be at hand?

In the waves and mighty waters
No one will support my head,
But my Saviour, my Belovèd,
Who was stricken in my stead:
In the cold and mortal river
He will hold my head above;
I shall through the waves go singing
For one look of Him I love!

A touching incident has given to this verse the title of 'The Miners' Hymn.' In the mouth of April, 1877, a colliery at Cymmer, in the Rhondda Valley, was flooded, and fourteen miners found themselves in a prison of darkness and terror, waiting helplessly for death. The whole nation seemed to turn its thought towards that coal-pit, and every day made the suspense more painful. The rescue-party toiled manfully day and night; and when seven days had passed without any reward to their labour, the last hope was almost given up. But on the eighth day nine of those imprisoned were found: and they were alive, though exhausted to the verge of death. Without air, without food, despair would have driven them mad were it not for the above hymn, which they sang over and over again with a feeling of terrible reality. 'The waves and mighty waters' were there; so was their Saviour, their Beloved. And they sang for one look of Him! __________________________________________________________________

Benjamin Francis

The Rev. BENJAMIN FRANCIS was born at Pengelli, near Newcastle-Emlyn, in the year 1734. His father was a Baptist minister, a man of large talents and many labours, his name being associated with the origin of several churches on the confines of the three counties of Cardigan, Caermarthen, and Pembroke. The son spoken of here was only six years old when his father died; but there were faithful friends who cared for him till he could care for himself. He commenced preaching at the age of nineteen; and soon after he entered the Academy at Bristol. In the year 1758 he was ordained minister of the Baptist church at Horsley, in Gloucestershire; and there he laboured in Christ for nearly half a century--until be was called to rest. His love for his native land constrained him to make contributions towards its church-song. His hymns are very correct and well finished; but only a few of them have found a permanent place in the sanctuary. Even these do not lend themselves to translation, being mostly free versions of the Psalms or of English hymns. He also published several English hymns; of which two at least are fairly well known--although in each case there is some confusion as to the authorship.

[41]Hark! the voice of love and mercy

is generally attributed to him, with a query on behalf of the Rev. Jonathan Evans.

[42]Jesus! and shall it ever be

is again put down to Grigg, but altered by Benjamin Francis. __________________________________________________________________