its author desires to impart to others, in all its power, to soothe, or influence, or elevate the soul. Especially is this true of sacred music, as it exists in our churches. The composer finds the thought already clothed in a poetic garb, and his design is to impart force to that very expression of the thought, that it may penetrate the soul, and produce corresponding affections. Let this assertion be distinctly understood. Sacred tunes are designed not to express religious affections in general, but to impart the particular affection contained in the words to which the composer adapted them. Thus, for example, the tune which its author has adapted to the words, "Joy to the world: the Lord is come," ," was not designed to express joyful news in general, nor yet all kinds of joyfulness in God; but that peculiar blending of reverence, and gratitude, and hope, and confidence with joy, resulting from the truth, the Lord has come-the Savior, promised long-and, in the height of that joy, to call upon the world to prepare him room, and every voice a song. His impassioned soul burned with these sentiments, before a note was written. These gave him the key note. These produced the melodies. The tune is the dress, displaying all the beauty, and assisting the vigor of the sentiment. When this is formed, the composer's work ends.

This fact has a most important bearing upon the music of the church, both in the kind of tunes prepared for her service, and in their performance. It affects both the composer and the choir. Influenced by this, the composer demands that all church poetry should be constructed on fixed rules of lyric composition. To this demand no one can object, did it not invariably happen, that all the distinctive doctrines of grace are ruled out by the laws of lyric composition." The principle itself is sound, but its application vicious. It takes from the music of the church that majesty of the divine trutha feature impressed upon the whole inspired book of Psalms—a characteristic of church poetry, coeval with the formation of the church. For those Latin hymns which from the olden time have come to us, set forth Christ in his sonship, humiliation and death, with a clearness of statement, a minuteness of detail, ». unknown even to their creeds. I can conceive how an Arian could sign the apostle's creed, but I cannot see how he could join the ancient church in singing Deum de deo, Lumen de lumine, Eterni patris verbum can factum.

These circumstances encompass and impede the CHORISTER'S duty. The chorister! the impersonation of the poet and the composer! The leader of our praises! Whose soul awakens, as well as conducts our devotions! Whose station

in public worship is second only to that of ambassador! How much of fearful interest is devolved upon him! How does his station appeal to the kind consideration of all!

His duties scarcely commence before he is embarrassed by the fact already mentioned concerning musical composition. His hymn-book contains a clear expression of the great truths of God, and every shade of affection resulting from them, in its weakness and its intensity, its decline and revival. His note-book is a wardrobe of splendid dress for particular thoughts, or, to speak without a figure, had every psalm or hymn its own tune, or were all the hymns on the same general subject, only varied metres of the same sentiment, there would be no difficulty in this part of his duty. But this is not so, and he prepares for his work, under the distressing fear that the successive stanzas of the hymn will appear like a platoon of soldiers in other men's coats. If his work be rightly executed, so, as to enforce the several shades of the poet's thoughts, he must, in fact, make a new tune for every stanza, by a change in its movement, or in the intensity of the sounds. This he could easily accomplish in private, or did he sing alone in public.But he is a mere leader, and that of a band whose measured tread corresponds with his own.

I have conducted your thoughts to this difficulty, for the purpose of suggesting briefly what seems to me the remedy. The following remarks are based on the supposition that there is a choir; for in the present position of sacred music, I see no way to secure good music without the choir.

Here I surely need not insist that the choir should cherish confidence in their leader; nor that others should abstain from disparaging and censorious remarks concerning those who conduct this part of the service. Disregard of these cautions would destroy any work, however good. It would rend to fragments any association that could be formed on earth. Destitution of the confidence of one's associates, and the censure of irresponsible tongues, is an oppression that would drive a wise man mad.

It is highly important that the choir should meet frequently, for improvement in Music. The choir needs to move as one voice, in all the tunes. They should understand each other's manner, be accustomed to each others voices, that they may give effect to the several pieces they sing.

Too much stress cannot be laid upon the fact that the choir should be always improving in their knowledge of musical science, and their skill of execution. Sacred tunes are not so many moulds, into which every hymn may be run. They are

dresses for particular thoughts; and the choir whose supply of tunes is scanty, will neither be pleased themselves, nor will they please others. A tune has no special charm because it is new, nor any disfavor simply because it is old. More than three centuries have elapsed, since the people of God uttered their praises in the grand tones of Old Hundred, and I trust many more will pass away ere that ceases to be a favorite. Who can tell how many others have in that time risen, and been popular for a moment, and then sunk into oblivion.

The congregation at large has much to do in remedying these evils. I trust, for one, that the day is not far distant when no pew in the church will be considered furnished, unless it be liberally supplied with note-books, as well as hymn-books and bibles; and when every worshipper will, with his open notebook, follow the tune, as well as the words of the hymn.

But beyond this, every congregation owes it to itself to sustain the singing-school-to be ever imparting instruction in the rudiments of music, and advancing those already taught to a more perfect knowledge of the science. There is to my mind something peculiarly pleasant in the idea of a church acting thus, as a provident parent towards all its youth, conferring thus upon all who will accept of it, that skilful use in the concord of sweet sounds, which will enliven many a dull hour, and cheer many a desponding one, which will make them better worshippers in the sanctuary, and more cheerful members of their families. Such things cherish the union between the church and her youth, and render its dissolution no easy task.

One other remedy I would suggest, in the words of another. Let the congregation be the choir; let there be meetings of the whole congregation, or at least as many as can sing, for the sole purpose of learning the tunes that are sung by the choir. It would afford me unfeigned pleasure to be present at such a meeting. I should hail it as a signal advance towards that day when the praise of the church will rise from all hearts, and the grateful incense rise in volume to heaven.

Past associations and future prospects lead us to desire such a day. Psalm singing was as truly a criterion of a Puritan, as the roundhead. You could have no doubt of the family in which you were, if you heard

"Dundee's wild, warbling measure rise,"

"Plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name.”

You could have no doubt which army was advancing, when as one man they sung, "God is the refuge of his saints."

The puritan family, the puritan church, and even the puritan army was a psalm-singing community; and every drop of their blood that courses in our veins, calls upon us to cultivate sacred music, compared with which, Italian trills are tame; and to render each congregation a choir, whose hundreds of well trained and disciplined voices, glorify God, by offering praise a unison of hearts in the praise of God.

Our world is but a time of rest between the first and second parts of the heavenly concert. The first part was finished when the sun of the first sabbath sank to his rest. The theme then was creation-the almightiness of its author, his wisdom, his beneficence. The sentiment was derived from the gladness and holy delight which God felt as he surveyed his own works. The singers were all the sons of God. That strain died away, but there are times when its echoes seem still to linger in the air, when the breath of heaven is so balmy, and the earth so beautiful, that the expression of gladness can scarce be withheld. While the heavens declare the glory of God, the firmament shows forth his handiwork-when from every tree in the groves voices of song warble God is good; and

E'en the dumb fish that cuts the flood,
Leaps up, and means his praises too,”—

amid these scenes hearts are attuned for the second part of this concert. Then the theme shall be redemption-the glories of the Redeemer's person, the splendor of his victories. Again shall the tide of song rise from God's affection towards his completed works. The singers then shall be all holy, the ransomed of the Lord, returned to Zion with songs; and everlasting joy shall be upon their heads. Theirs will be the song of an army returning in triumph; and as they enter the king's city, it shall be the voice of a multitude without number, rejoicing in personal rest, and honor, and triumph. With them may we all

"Range the sweet' fields, on the banks of the river,
And sing hallelujahs for ever and ever."

FLATTERY.

To flatter those we do not know, is an easy task; but to flatter our intimate acquaintances, all of whose foibles are strongly in our eye, is drudgery insupportable.