sensualism. A large class of poetical phrases have been born and bred in the service of sinful pleasure; and to meet with them in such poetry as we are considering, and meet them we do continually, affects us much in the same way as when we see singing with demure looks, and in white surplices, the naughty boys whom we had a few minutes ago heard venting very opposite language, and seen engaged in all manner of mischief. And more especially, when the association is strengthened by a certain cadence, a particular rhyme, the mind is forcibly recalled to the recollection of scenes of worldly vanity, and the sacred character of the poem suffers no little damage. God has his offering no longer peculiarly to Himself, but shares it with the tribute of praise paid to meat, drink, and clothing, and even worse than these. And as if this general resemblance were not sufficient, our writers of hymns have taken care to adopt the very same measures, and some of the singers of them the very same tunes, as echo from our streets, our play-houses, and our taverns. How, therefore, is it possible for such a poem to be at once classical and sacred. To be classical, that is, of the first class among our poems, as what is offered to God surely should be, displaying a model of good taste and delicate imagination, it should derive its beauty of diction from the same source as the most profane of poems, and therefore, is no longer sacred, that While to be is, set apart from profane use. sacred, if it need not dispense with all this, and be nothing better than metrical doggrel, it must at least supply itself too scantily to afford that which the very roll of the measure incites the ear to demand, and must be contented with the character of baldness. Hence the position of Johnson respecting the limited range of sacred poetry would have been undoubtedly true, had he strictly confined his objection to the particular kind of poem which we have in view. But as to the great body of poetry which goes under the title of sacred, no species of poetry perhaps is more easy. It goes no deeper either into feelings or things, than the vagueness of natural religion can carry it, and at one and the same time it can draw without stint upon a vocabulary which is founded on natural objects, taking advantage of all the richness of the very richest part of that store, and can avail itself of the winning beauty and solemn majesty which attends the utterance of the praises of the Maker of the world. Hence it may be written, and has been written, to great perfection by men who gave no evidence in their lives of a sanctified heart; and even large pieces of heathen poetry would have quite as good a right as very much Christian, to stand in a collection of this kind of writing. But a hymn which is to be the voice of the spirit within, ascending to the footstool of the throne. of heaven through the access procured by Jesus Christ; penetrated with the consciousness that it has no business there but through Him, and standing in the heavenly presence amid the dreadful reality, which it is the nature of all earthly things to hide, of all natural objects to veil, this must both speak the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. No conventional diction, no mawkish sentimentality, no affected prettinesses can be tolerated here. So absorbed is the mind in the contemplation, that it cannot possibly descend to, or have leisure for culling the flowers of poetical diction, even the whitest and most delicately fragrant. They seem fit but for child's play. It may safely be asserted on the whole, that a good metrical hymn of adoration, faithfully fulfilling at once its solemn service to Almighty God, and duty to the indispensable rules of poetry, not only yet remains to be written, but most assuredly never will be written. But all these objections to the use of metre are infinitely increased when it comes to be joined with rhythm. It would be quite impossible for the composer to move without extreme difficulty, and for a few paces, in any case. How then could he possibly find sufficient freedom of expression for a subject which demands it to the utmost extent, consistent with certain but not rigorous rules. Since therefore the employment of the rhythmical system by the Hebrews is undeniable, being manifest upon the very surface of their compositions, we are compelled by the very necessity of the case to deny their use of the metrical, and may safely conclude that a form which we are now unable to discern in a language by no means naturally incapable of it, never existed; or was at all events systematically excluded from sacred composition. Let us then briefly consider the effects of rhythm. As the mind, when excited to lofty thoughts, not only rises to the creation of magnificent and beautiful images, but also expresses itself naturally in a sort of measured language, as its stately march, and as a certain measure of language is moreover required towards adequate communion with other minds, both for sympathy of feeling, concordance of voice, and convenience of memory, it is obvious that mere prose will not satisfy its wants when it comes to utter the language of confession and thanksgiving as a song before the throne. It must have something which has neither the shapelessness and nakedness of this, nor the formal constraint of the decoration of verse; neither the unfettered common-place of the former, nor the studied novelty of the latter. Such a vehicle is found in rhythm or measured prose, in which the return (which is the essence of measure) is made by the recurrence not of the same foot or rhyme, but of the same or similar order of structure, one sentence being responded to by another, which is parallel or antithetic to it, or in some way or other reechoes its meaning or construction. The following example is from Psalm xxiv. The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof, He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart, Who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully. He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, And righteousness from the God of his salvation. Such is the structure of inspired poetry, and the same has been reasonably adopted in the best models of uninspired hymnology. Its advantages are very great. It admits of all the unlimited variety which lies between prose and verse; for it may be bound up into a strictness nearly metrical, or it may be relaxed into a flow closely approaching the liberty of prose. It is a vehicle for the devotional mind, which neither lets it down a pitch too low, nor raises it a flight too high, but is in exact accordance with that calm self-possession which distinguishes devotion from excitement, and religion from fanaticism. It maintains a movement solemn and majestic, such as becomes the spirit which is approaching, with regulated step, and with |