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.



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).


Stryker was a stu­dent of hym­no­lo­gy, and pub­lished:


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