es of John Bunyan and Daniel Defoe. A
monument to his memory was placed in Westminster Abbey, the highest honor
that can be bestowed upon an Englishman.

To Isaac Watts we are indebted for some of our most sublime hymns. "When
I survey the wondrous cross" has been named by Matthew Arnold as the
finest hymn in the English language, and most critics concur in the
judgment. Certainly it is one of the most beautiful. John Julian, the
noted hymnologist, declares that it must be classified with the four
hymns that stand at the head of all English hymns.

Other hymns of Watts continue to hold their grip on the Christian Church
after the passing of two centuries. No Christmas service seems complete
without singing his beautiful paraphrase of the ninety-eighth Psalm, "Joy
to the world, the Lord is come!" Another hymn, "O God, our help in ages
past," based on the ninetieth Psalm, is indispensable at New Year's time.
Then there is the majestic hymn of worship, "Before Jehovah's awful
throne," as well as the appealing Lenten hymn, "Alas, and did my Saviour
bleed?" And who has not been stirred by the challenge in "Am I a soldier
of the cross?" Other hymns by Watts include such favorites as "There is a
land of pure delight," "Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove," "O that the
Lord would guide my ways," "My dear Redeemer and my Lord," "How beauteous
are their feet," "Come, sound His praise abroad," "My soul, repeat His
praise," "O bless the Lord, my soul," "Lord of the worlds above," "Lord,
we confess our numerous faults," "In vain we seek for peace with God,"
"Not all the blood of beasts," "So let our lips and lives express," "The
Lord my Shepherd is," and "When I can read my title clear."

Although Watts never married, he deeply loved little children, and he is
the author of some of the most famous nursery rhymes in the English
language. The profound genius that produced "O God, our help in ages in
past" also understood how to appeal to the childish mind by means of such
happy little jingles as, "How doth the little busy bee" and "Let dogs
delight to bark and bite," as well as by the exquisite cradle-song:

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber;
Holy angels guard thy bed;
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide;
All without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well supplied.

How much bett