Hymns
How is represented in The Church Hymn book 1872 with three hymns:
- Jesus! name of wondrous love (n. 794), 1854
- Soldiers of the cross, arise (n. 1212), 1854
- We give thee but thine own (n. 1264), 1854;
and in Hymns Ancient and Modern, Revised with a several others
- Lord Jesus, when we stand afar (n. 109),
- O Jesu, thou art standing (n. 355),
- O my Saviour, lifted from the earth for me (n. 360),
- It is a thing most wonderful (n. 435),
- For all the Saints, who from their labours rest (n. 527),
- "Thou art the Christ, O Lord" (n. 555),
- To Thee, Our God, we fly (n. 606).
See his Life by his son, FD How (1898).
Bishop How burnt a copy of Thomas Hardy's novel Jude the Obscure. The burning took place during the summer and Hardy, noted for his thrift, was said to have been outraged that the bishop wasted the firewood rather than waiting until the winter when the fire would be needed anyway. However, as "the Bishop of Wakefield announced that he had thrown "such garbage" onto his fire", and this is recorded as happening in May (when it might have been cold in Wakefield), the firewood may not have been needed for burning the book only, but for warming his house.
Read more about this topic: William How
Famous quotes containing the word hymns:
“The form of act or thought mattered nothing. The hymns of David, the plays of Shakespeare, the metaphysics of Descartes, the crimes of Borgia, the virtues of Antonine, the atheism of yesterday and the materialism of to-day, were all emanation of divine thought, doing their appointed work. It was the duty of the church to deal with them all, not as though they existed through a power hostile to the deity, but as instruments of the deity to work out his unrevealed ends.”
—Henry Brooks Adams (1838–1918)
“What wondrous love is this
That caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul”
—Unknown. “What Wondrous Love is this!” L. 3-5, Dupuy’s Hymns and Spiritual Songs (1811)
“Whether, if you yield not to your father’s choice,
You can endure the livery of a nun,
For aye to be in shady cloister mewed,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
Thrice blessed they that master so their blood
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage.”
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616)