Page:The Methodist Hymn-Book Illustrated.djvu/459

 THE STORY OF THE HYMNS AND THEIR WRITERS 447

Hymn 871. There s a Friend for little children.

ALBERT MIDLANE.

Mr. Midlane was born at Newport, Isle of Wight, on January 23, 1825, and carried on business there as an iron monger, not far from the house where Thomas Binney wrote Eternal Light. Mr. Midlane was born three months after the death of his father. He remembers his mother saying, They told me when your dear father died that my child would be the Lord s gift to cheer and help me in my widowhood. His Sunday-school teacher, who was an enthusiastic reader of poetry, prompted him to use his gift in verse, and before his ninth birthday he composed a set of verses which greatly impressed his friends. In September, 1842, his first printed hymn was written when on a visit to Carisbrooke Castle. It appeared in the Youth s Magazine in November, 1842. He has written more than 300 hymns, and published several small volumes of prose and poetry. He is known as the poet preacher of the Strict Brethren.

There s a Friend for little children is his most popular hymn. It was scribbled in his note-book on February 27, 1859. Mr. Midlane still preserves the MS., and rejoices to think how these verses coming straight from the heart have been sung all round the world. It was contributed to a serial, Good news for the little ones, in 1859. In the original the first line read, There s a rest for little children. The second stanza is here omitted. Sir John Stainer s tune is named In Memoriam, to commemorate a little child of his whom Jesus had called to Him. A year or two aero a subscription was made to relieve Mr. Midlane s necessities, and this was well taken up by parents, teachers, and children.

Mr. Midlane says, Most of my hymns have been written during walks around the ancient and historic ruins of Carisbrooke Castle. The twilight hour, so dear to thought, and the hushed serenity then pervading Nature, have often allured my soul to deep and uninterrupted meditation, which, in its turn, has given birth to lines which, had not these walks been taken, would never probably have been penned.

&quot; Lady Sister, will you read to me ? &quot; said a merchant seaman dying a lingering and painful death in a London hospital. I asked what I should read. &quot; Read There s a

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