His hymns were often written to be sung in his own chapel at the Castle Hill, Northampton, and were upon the subjects of his sermons. Written on the same principle as Watts’s hymns, they belong to the same class; and while they are on the whole inferior to those of Watts, they make a distinct and very precious addition to our hymnals. There is less variety of theme, metre, and expression in Doddridge than in Watts, but he is rarely so completely on the level of the ‘vulgar capacities’ for whom his great predecessor had such a tender regard. His hymns are the prayers and praises of a saint, ‘they shine,’ as Montgomery said, ‘in the beauty of holiness,’ and some must live while Christianity endures. He is like Watts also in his indebtedness to editors. The best known of the hymns that bear his name, ‘O God of Bethel,’ would make a fine specimen for a polychrome hymn-book, though I venture to suggest that no ‘higher critic’ could pick out the portions supplied by the various revisers if he were left solely to subjective considerations. Dr. Julian says that its authorship should be thus described—‘P. Doddridge, Jan. 173⁶/₇ Scottish Trs. and Paraphs., 1745; J. Logan, 1781; and Scottish Paraphs., 1781.’ The earliest form is still extant in Doddridge’s own handwriting. No. XXXII JACOB’S VOW. From Gen. xxxiii. 20, 22. 1 O God of Bethel, by whose Hand Thine Israel still is fed Who thro’ this weary Pilgrimage Hast all our Fathers led 2 To thee our humble Vows we raise To thee address our Prayer, And in thy kind and faithful Breast Deposite all our Care 3 If thou thro’ each perplexing Path Wilt be our constant Guide If thou wilt daily Bread supply And Raiment wilt provide 4 If thou wilt spread thy Shield around Till these our wand’rings cease And at our Father’s loved Abode Our Souls arrive in Peace 5 To thee as to our Covenant God We’ll our whole selves resign And count that not our tenth alone But all we have is Thine. January 16, 173⁶/₇.[103] Another hymn, even better known and loved than this, at least amongst Methodist congregations, is— O happy day that fixed my choice. This also has been edited to its advantage. It has been the birthday song of countless redeemed souls. Dr. A. B. Bruce says that St. Matthew’s feast, at which ‘a great company of publicans and of others sat down,’ ‘was a kind of poem, saying for Matthew what Doddridge’s familiar lines say for many another.’[104]