me. Both text and melody, it is explained in this
book, were taken down from oral recitation in the district of Glaz, in
lower Silesia. From these facts we are compelled to draw the conclusion
that this glorious hymn of adoration to the Saviour probably dates back
to the seventeenth century, while the melody is undoubtedly a Silesian
folk song of much later origin.

The English translation, "Beautiful Saviour," has come to us from the pen
of Joseph A. Seiss, the noted Lutheran preacher of Philadelphia.

"Silent night, holy night" also is a hymn around which numerous legends
have clustered. The most unfortunate of these deals with its origin.
According to this story, the hymn was written on a Christmas Eve by a
"Mr. Mohr," whose wife that very day had gone to celebrate Christmas in
heaven. In an adjoining room the grief-stricken husband and father could
see his little motherless children sleeping. Outside the house of
mourning the stillness of the night was broken suddenly by the singing of
Christmas carolers. They were singing the very songs his wife and
children used to sing. Now, he thought, she is blending her voice with
the angels. Then came the inspiration for the hymn, and in a few moments
he had penned the now famous "Stille Nacht."

This is a very touching story, but its fatal defect lies in the fact that
"Mr. Mohr" was a Roman Catholic priest.

The true story of the origin of the hymn has much less of the emotional
appeal. The author, Joseph Mohr, was born at Salzburg, Austria, December
11, 1792. He was ordained as a priest at the age of twenty-three,
becoming assistant at Laufen, near his native city. It was here, three
years later, that the beautiful Christmas carol was written.

It seems that a shipowner at Oberndorf named Maier and his wife had
invited the young priest to be their guest at a pre-Christmas party. As a
special surprise for the priest, Maier had invited some wandering
minstrels to stage a crude representation of the Christmas story as
recounted in the Bible. The thoughtful hospitality of the Maier couple
and the touching simplicity of the festival play so stirred the heart of
Mohr that, instead of going straightway home, he climbed the so-called
"Totenberg," (mountain of the dead) overlooking Oberndorf, and stood in
silent meditation.

The silence of the night, the starry splendor of the winter sky, the
murmur of the Salzach river thrilled his soul. Quickly he descended to
his parish hou