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activity, filled with astonishing new formations and modifica tions, while after birth hardly anything more remains than to carry on quietly and uniformly the growth of already fixed forms, so also in our soul we find abiding habits of working presented to us as facts so soon as we begin with deliberate attention to make its development the subject of reflection. What goes on before us seems to be nothing but a continual exercise of powers long since formed an ever-enlarging accretion of knowledge cast in moulds made ready for it by previous mental labor that has remained unknown; lastly, an expansion of our feelings and volitions over the widening sphere of points of contact offered to them by our experience as it advances day by day. In all these processes lie doubtless other very decisive reasons determining the peculiar from and value of the higher human development."

Mental, like physical life, first manifests itself in mental actions of which we are unconscious, and which result in forming habits of mind which largely determine the growth of our intelligence. There are mental laws that determine the actions of mind as there are material laws that determine the motions of matter. Mental action does not result alone from the influence of stimuli from without, but from the presence of mental force within the mind itself. The power to think is natural to mind, and the exercise of that power on facts of the material universe given us through our senses, explains the origin of ideas. It is the mind itself that changes the action of natural forces on the organs of sense into sensations of color and sound, and then converts these into an experience of beauty and music. Knowledge is given us in experience, and experience arises from the union of outward impressions with the mental forces of thought and feeling. By this process sense impressions become sensations, and sensatious by the union of thought and feeling in one act of consciousness become an experience of external things as they stand related to man's intellectual and emotional nature. This is the beginning of knowledge, and marks the point in our mental development when ideas arise and mental convictions take form. The unity of consciousness prevents a large number of conflicting ideas holding conscious possession of the mind at the same

time. As we become conscious of one class of ideas, another class is lost to our consciousness, and for the time is forgotten. They are lost to consciousness, but not to the mind itself. They still exist as a part of our mental property, and can be recalled by an act of memory in obedience to the law of association. Our stock of ideas is thus enlarged, and our knowledge is extended and increased, and by the aid of the faculty of memory is made a permanent mental possession. In this way ideas become the capital of intellect, and the wealth of the mind.

The reliability and permanence of knowledge depends upon the trustworthiness of man's faculties, and the skill and integrity with which they are used. It is at this point that the moral element comes into philosophy and science, and affects our conclusions. The use of our faculties must be determined and directed by the will, and is therefore voluntary and because of this there comes into scientific investigations the law of moral responsibility. Conscience must control the use of our faculties in the interest of science in order to give our con clusions the stamp of truth. The want of moral honesty and integrity in the use of our faculties will vitiate every conclusion we may reach, and every deduction we may make. The rational and moral powers of man must unite in order to give us as the result of their action true science, which is knowledge. All truth, as it becomes concrete in its practical relations to man, becomes moral, because he is a moral being,— his moral nature should control, his moral interests are supreme, and moral character and destiny should be the sublime result of all action. In this way the two great departments of man's nature and life come into unity and harmony. Science and religion become one in a true, noble and divine manhood. William Tucker.

ARTICLE V.

Hints on Church Music.

So dim and uncertain on every subject are the sources of early history, that it would be difficult, perhaps, to determine with any degree of accuracy, the time when music first began to form a part of the services of religious worship. It is sufficient to know that we can trace, with some authentic exactness, its use as far backward as the dawn of civilization itself. With the Hebrew people it formed an important, if not the principal exercise in their temple service. From its frequent mention in the Old Testament records, we should infer that the whole Jewish nation were performers upon all kinds of instruments, and that the art of music was cultivated among them with particular reference to the aid it furnished in giving interest to the religious ceremonies of the temple, and as an expression of the devout sentiments of the great congregation. They had their large trained choirs and orchestras with their psalteries, harps, and cymbals, with which they gave utterance to their deepest religious feelings, and sang their hymns of gratitude to the God of Israel.

In turning to the history of the Christian Church we find few features of its service so prominent as the recognition of the value of this divine art as an inspiration to devout sentiment, and as a valuable auxiliary in the maintentance of the religious ceremonies of the sanctuary. Ever since that last meeting of Christ with his disciples, in that upper room at Jerusalem, where before parting they sang together a hymn, music has been employed as a medium for the expression of spiritual gladness and holy trust, a stimulus to religious work and a means of moral quickening, edification, and delight by all his followers in all Christian homes and temples. At the present day it is regarded as one of the chief essentials of religious worship and parish prosperity. No church or society could expect any degree of success without calling to its assistance, in one form or another, this heaven-born agent. So

great is the importance attached to it, that it is always a matter of grave consideration and oftentimes of great perplexity to parish committees. In fact, it is not uncommon to find the selection of a choir to be a more difficult thing to manage than the settlement of a preacher. The number of congregations, indeed, are not few who take a deeper interest in the quality of their music than in the accomplishments of their pastor; and the false notes of the soprano or the baritone would be thought less excusable than the limping logic or heretical theology of the sermon.

There can, in truth, be no doubt among those who are interested in religion and its institutions, of the absolute necessity of music or singing of some description as an aid to the devotions of the sanctuary and as a quickening force in the furtherance of different religious activities. It could not be dropped from the order of Sunday service, or the week-day prayermeeting, or even from the social reform gathering, without great detriment to church work and to social progress. Good music is often an excellent substitute for indifferent preaching, and it wonderfully helps on all occasions in giving force and unction to the spoken word. The religious, if not the intellectual needs of the average hearer, are in a measure satisfied if the hymns are appropriate, and his soul is borne aloft on the wings of melody, although other parts of the service may not fulfil his highest expectations. And his heart may be as deeply touched and thrilled by the sweet tones of the organ and the grand chorus of human voices as by the eloquent sentences of a speaker. If we consider simply the comparative advantages of the choir and the pulpit as instrumentalities for inspiring devout sentiment and lifting the soul into regions of spiritual exaltation, it may be a question whether the former would not be as likely to secure this result as the latter. But whatever may be the truth in relation to this point, it is certainly safe to say that the services of the sanctuary would be lacking in one of its chief attractions, and the spirit of devotion one of its principal aids if the voice of song could not be heard within its walls.

Nor is the preacher himself insensible of the influence of good music. Perhaps, indeed, there is no one present at the religious meeting that can better appreciate the value of vocal and instrumental harmony than he who conducts such a meeting. If his nature is any way sensitive to the power of this heavenly art, he cannot fail to catch the inspiration that comes from the awakening melodies of organ and choir. Under the magic spell of some grand tune finely sung, or from the delicate touches of some skilful hand upon the organ's keys, his own spirit takes new flight and rises into realms of holy thought and exalted emotion; and both sermon and prayer derive fresh unction from this source. Nor is it less true that a preacher's fervor will often receive an embarassing chill, and his best pulpit efforts be rendered comparatively tame and inefficient by the depressing performances of the choir or congregation in the line of music. It is said of the noted Dr. Bellamey that he once gave out a psalm just before his sermon which was so wretchedly sung by the choir that he read another with the remark: "You must try again, for it is impossible to preach after such singing." Not a few preachers since his day have found themselves in like circumstances, and can appreciate the truth of the Doctor's quaint saying. And all must know, as no other class of persons can, the positive utility, if not the vital necessity of good music in conducting successfully the interests of a church, and kindling in the hearts of the people the spirit of religious devotion.

While, then, there can exist probably no ground for debate in regard to the question of the utility of music as a part of the services of worship, we shall find a wide divergence of opinion respecting ways and methods. The problem that parishes are frequently called to confront, is the kind of music which they shall encourage and adopt. Shall they have a quartette or an old-style choir? Shall they depend upon home talent or look for help outside of their own church, and, perhaps, denomination? Shall congregational singing in part or as a whole be the order of this service? These, and other questions in relation to this subject, are often causes of serious

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