1851–1929

Introduction

Born: Jan­ua­ry 7, 1851, Ver­non, New York.

Died: De­cem­ber 6, 1929 (pos­si­bly in Rome, New York, where he was liv­ing in 1924).

Buried: Ha­mil­ton Col­lege Ce­me­te­ry, Cli­nton, New York.

portrait

Biography

Woolsey was the son of min­is­ter Is­aac P. Stry­ker, and hus­band of Cla­ra Eli­za­beth (Lib­by) Goss.

He was edu­cat­ed at Ha­mil­ton Col­lege, Clin­ton, New York (1872), and Au­burn Theo­lo­gic­al Se­mi­na­ry, New York Ci­ty (1876).

He en­tered the min­is­try in 1876, and served Pres­by­ter­ian pas­tor­ates in Au­burn, New York; Ith­aca, New York (1878); Ho­ly­oke, Mas­sa­chu­setts (1883); and the Fourth Pres­by­ter­ian Church, Chi­ca­go, Il­li­nois.

He was pre­si­dent of Ha­mil­ton Col­lege, Clin­ton, New York (1892–1917).

Works

Stryker was a stu­dent of hym­no­lo­gy, and pub­lished:

Introduction

Dies Iræ, Dies Illa!

Thomas of Celano, 1250 A. D.

O that day! that day of wrath!
When this Earth the fire shall scath,
David so with Sybil hath.

What alarm there is to be,
When the Judge is come, to see
All with strictest scrutiny.

Sounds the trumpet’s awful blare
’Mong the buried everywhere,
Bids all at the throne appear.

Death and Nature shall appall,
When uprise the creatures all,
Answering the judgment call.

Now the volume is explained,
Wherein all things are con­tained
Whence this world shall be ar­raigned.

Sits the Holy Ma­gis­trate,
All disclosing, small and great,
Nothing unavenged shall wait.

What shall I, a wretch, re­ply?
To what Mediator cry,
When the just scarce lift the eye.

King of majesty un­told,
Who of grace the saved dost hold,
Source of mercy, me en­fold!

Christ, in pity think, I pray,
’Twas I caused Thine earth­ly way;
Doom me not upon that day.

Seeking me, Thou sat’dst o’er­wrought,
Bore the Cross my soul that bought,
Can such labor be for naught?

O just Judge of pe­nal­ty!
Absolution grant to me,
Ere that day of sen­tence be.

God! my ill de­sert I know,
Guilty blushe­s dye my brow;
Mercy to Thy sup­pli­ant show.

Thou didst Ma­ry’s sor­row cheer,
Thou the rob­ber’s pray­er didst bear,
Thou to hope hast changed my fear.

All my pleas no worth can claim:
But, Thou Good One, hide my shame,
Thrust me not in end­less flame!

Mid Thy sheep my place com­mand,
Not among the goats to stand;
Give me part at the right hand.

When the doomed ac­curst shall be,
Sent to burn­ing mi­se­ry,
With the bless­èd call Thou me.

Suppliant, prone, I urge my pray­er—
Heart abased to ash­es bear;
Oh, at last, make me Thy care!

Oh, that day of pi­te­ous cries!
When from dust he shall arise
To be judged, a man un­done—
God! di­vine­ly spare that one!

Translated by Me­lanc­thon Wool­sey
Stryker, 1883

Sources

Lyrics