Many have heard from Chaplain McCabe’s own fire-touched lips, how this grand old doxology, that has doubtless been on more lips than any other uninspired production, was sung by the starving “boys in blue” [Union soldiers in the American civil war] that were incarcerated in Libby Prison [Richmond, Virginia]. Day after day they saw comrades passing away, and their numbers increased by fresh, living recruits for the grave. One night about ten o’clock, through the stillness and the darkness, they heard the tramp of coming feet, that soon stopped before the prison door until arrangements could be made inside. In the company was a young Baptist minister, whose heart almost fainted as he looked on those cold walls and thought of the suffering inside. Tired and weary, he sat down, put his face in his hands and wept. Just then a lone voice of deep, sweet pathos, sung out from an upper window—
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow;”
and a dozen manly voices joined in the second line—
“Praise Him all creatures here below”
and then by the time the third was reached, more than a score of hearts were full, and these joined to send the words on high—
“Praise Him above ye heavenly host;”
and by this time the prison was all alive, and seemed to quiver with the sacred song, as from every room and cell those brave men sang—
“Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”
Psalms 30:12 To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever.
