all of which, though not expressly pointed out in the musical notation, are consistent with the rules of the art.*

But again. It is no less obvious that the claims of enunciation must, to some extent, govern the character of the movement, as to slowness or rapidity. The force of the lines above quoted would be lost, if the utterance were to be retarded by a very slow time. A quick movement, on the contrary, would as infallibly destroy the sentiment contained in the following lines:

The Lord! how fearful is his name!

How wide is his command!

This distinction is so obvious as not to need a moment's illustration; yet, it seems scarcely to have been thought of, by our compilers and teachers of psalmody.t

The enunciation is also frequently injured by the untimely introduction of musical graces or embellishments. This is especially the case in the simple congregational style, where every one manages according to his own notions of taste. The discrepancies which thus arise, would often prevent the words from being understood, even where there was no other difficulty.

But further.-Mere distinctness and propriety of utterance will not alone suffice. For the enunciation, as we have seen, should be impassioned. It should be loud or soft, slow or rapid-should kindle with the sentiment, or diminish as the

* Long pauses in the midst of a line, however, are very dfficult of execution; and for this reason, the poet who would furnish us with suitable hymns, should never place them there. The line-" He died: the heavens in mourning stood," may serve as an example in point. Omit the pause, and take breath, as is usually done, after the word "heavens," and the proposition is, that he coloured the heavens.

The claims of sacred poetry, are thought of still less, it would seem, by the compilers of psalms and hymns. And a similar species of inattention is very observable among clergymen, in selecting portions to be sung.

cast of thought is varied. In short, it should partake more or less, of the nature of oratorical delivery; and for this too, the art of style makes ample provision. A loud tremulous tone, unvaried in its intensity, is expressive of alarm, terror, or distress. A tone loud and abrupt at its commencement, but rapidly diminished in its intensity, is characteristic of joyous emotions. A tone just the reverse of this, characterises sentiments of exultation, irony, burlesque; while a tone. formed delicately, by the union of the two emphases, last mentioned, (i. e. by a swell and diminish,) is susceptible of the highest degree of pathos. These four forms of emphasis, more or less distinctly marked, and continually varying in character, according to the nature or strength of the sentiment, are applicable to almost every emotion of which the human mind is susceptible. When explained and illustrated by oral examples, a child may understand them and reduce them to practice. They form, in some sense, a language of emotions which may be applied as the words require. That they have been so generally neglected and forgotten, is attributable in part, to a circumstance already mentioned-the total absence of vocal enunciation. Let the words but once begin to receive a distant utterance, and we shall soon begin to feel the want of characteristic expression. We shall here be told, perhaps, that music has, within itself, aside from the consideration of articulate sounds, the power of controlling the emotions; and that, therefore, the claims of enunciation are comparatively unimportant. We admit the fact alleged; but we deny the inference. The latter, is indeed just opposite to the one we should have deduced. If certain sounds, in themselves considered, have such power over the emotions; then why should not these sounds be superadded to the consecrated language? This is the very thing contemplated in the institution of psalmody. The characteristic tones which nature furnishes, must anciently have had as much power as they now possess ; yet

Infinite Wisdom saw fit to employ distinct and intelligible language as the basis of psalmody, leaving characteristic tones to be employed only in the superstructure. And, if we attempt to substitute the one of these for the other, we must do it without the least authority. We ourselves well know the influence of these tones. We have often felt it. We know that even instruments, aside from voices, may speak powerfully through the imagination to the heart. But in the important business of worship, who shall fully understand their language? Who can calculate on the precise nature of their appeal? Certainly, they here need the living voice of appropriate enunciation, as an interpreter. This voice is capable of conveying ideas with precision and energy; and when seconded, as it ever ought to be, by the characteristic tones which nature places within the reach of obvious cultivation, its power in psalmody is irresistible. The nature of these characteristic tones, as connected with emotions, we have just briefly considered. How evident is it, that, till these are, in some measure, understood, we do not begin to superadd any thing of special interest or solemnity to the themes of song.

But once more. It is perfectly evident, that in music, as well as in other species of oral communication, there may be the exhibition of sentiment, without any thing like the spirit of real eloquence. There may be the form of oratory without the unction. There may be the exhibition of much skill and cultivation, both as to tones and language, while yet the music is quite destitute of true devotional expression. It would be strange, indeed, if the fact were otherwise. We find this principle exhibited at times in religious conversation, in reading, in preaching, in social prayer. Where is the Christian who has not sometimes felt it, till his very soul would seem to die within him? Hence, the necessity of a careful preparation for these exercises, the necessity of watchfulness, of meditation, of secret prayer, of keeping "a con

science void of offence towards God and towards man." And is it possible that church music should form an excep. tion against this rule? May we here, by mere dint of culti vation, acquire a species of language which will generally secure results that are highly spiritual, as by the influence of mere machinery? The supposition would be impious. Spiritual worship must be conducted by spiritually-minded worshippers. The principle is true of every other species of religious exercise; and shall it not hold good, in reference to an exercise, which, according to its divinely constituted nature, is peculiarly distinguished for its spirituality? Christians cannot be edified even in conversation, unless they "speak often one to another." The Bible, unless there is the habit of constantly reading it, will prove but a sealed book to them; preaching requires preparatory exercises, both in the study and in the closet; and the same is abundantly true of social prayer. But, may Christians enter at once without preparation, upon an exercise which more especially requires an elevated state of the affections? May they here presume to commence their devotions "as the horse rusheth into the battle," and yet be enabled at once to pour out their full hearts in the themes of supplication or praise? May they here plead the promises?—implore forgiveness ?-break forth into expressions of gratitude ?-pay their solemn vows to the Most High ?-call upon every thing that hath breath to praise him?-call upon the floods to clap their hands, and to be joyful together before the Lord? Yet the thing is continually attempted without the least suspicion of its impropriety. Even at the commencement of the exercises of public worship, while the worshippers are yet assembling, while the trampling of feet is heard, while the doors are grating upon their hinges, and all, comparatively speaking, is noise and confusion-just then, the singers have often been directed to "break forth in a shout of sacred joy"-or in "loud hallelujahs to the Lord!"

And who are they that thus commence these lofty themes, these soul-stirring accents of holy joy! Who are they that essay to mingle the earthly lispings of praise with the "mighty thunderings" of the upper sanctuary! Perhaps they are a few thoughtless individuals who confessedly have neither part nor lot in this matter-individuals who have cultivated sacred song for purposes of mere amusement, tasteful gratification, or display. Possibly their teacher too, was a base man, or their present leader is an infidel. And if the music has much professional excellence, it is more than probable, that the performers are indebted to the theatre for it. Or, on the other hand--suppose the performers to be scattered through the whole assembly where all is bustle, inattention, and noise. One half of the multitude do not pretend to sing, or even to look at the words. Not a syllable is distinctly uttered. There is neither tune, time, articulation, accent, emphasis, or characteristic expression. There is virtually, no theme employed in the song; and no song that could, of itself, superadd any thing to the theme. All is jargon-systematic jargon! A few individuals whose musical susceptibilities are happily obtuse, and whose souls are hungry for the bread of life, may glean a little from the exercise and think it solemn and impressive; but it is needless to say that not one of the rest of the assembly can be edified.

How evident is it then, from all these considerations, that there should be a thorough work of reform in this portion of the services. Music has indeed, been cultivated in many places to a considerable extent. The countless refinements of melody and harmony, of modulation, of measure, of movement, have sometimes been sought out and cherished with great industry and zeal; and where, from the vicinity of the theatre, professional performers could be obtained; the charms of a powerful orchestra, of a thundering chorus, of a melting solo or duet, with every thing that is tasteful in