ation is strong, and many of its creations are beautiful and vivid. His fancy climbs from height to height, until it seems to reach the summit attainable by human effort, and then glances over the far-reaching prospect spread out before it. His greatest conceptions are superior to his powers of execution, and seem to triumph in dominion over his judgment. His plans are frequently frustrated by a defective and inadequate workmanship. Every sentence is an effort there is an incessant labor for effect and his aims are too high for his energies.

Of Mr. Bascom's manner, the general remark we have to make is, that it is too theatrical-too much of the trumpet and flourish about it. If nature ever has paramount claims on orators, it is when they are the occupants of pulpits. All their manner which is beyond the excitation of nature is affectation-a quality of action, which Cowper has properly characterized. If an individual have eloquence within him; and feel a deep interest in the cause of religion, certainly, when he ascends the desk, the responsibilities which he has assumed, together with the importance of the subjects of which he treats, will waken up his spirit and dictate the course best calculated to produce the effect which he contemplates. He needs no action beyond that which his impulses bid; and if he regard it properly, it will be more effective than all that human ingenuity can contrive.

If it be asked, Is Mr. Bascom an eloquent man, we answer, yes-but not preeminently such. We would pronounce him a splendid orator-an accomplished rhetorician. By eloquence, we understand something deeper than rhetoric;—it is that power which exercises an irresistible dominion over us― which weds us to the sympathies of the speaker-which lays the provinces of thought, feeling and passion, under contribution-something whose effect is widely different from the admiration we feel, when our eyes are pleased with exhibitions of gracefulness. Mr. Bascom wants a more natural and simple style of metaphor, and greater precision and simplicity in the use of language. He seems not yet to be aware of the great truth, that nature does not necessarily mean something very grand, any more than devotion means exhibition.

ART. IX.-CHURCH MUSIC.

The remarks we have to make upon this subject, will excite opposite feelings in two different classes of readers.The fashionable musician will of course laugh at them, but the devtional Christian, who keeps in view the real object of church music, will find in them nothing but a confirmation of what he has often, and alas, painfully felt.

The great question relating to this subject, is not "what is the real object of church music," since that is well known; but "whether that object is kept in view in our churches."

Vocal music, of a simple and solemn character, has, from time immemorial, been one of the ways in which to express devotional feelings. It is a natural language of the heart-all nations, and all ages have used it, both as a means of exciting, and giving vent to the feelings. Music is adapted, like poetry, to express the higher and nobler sentiments, veneration, hope, gratitude, and love. Not only these, but penitence, prayer, humility, and faith, find in it a voice to utter forth the full tide of emotion. If the metaphor be not too free, music and poetry may be called the wings upon which these feelings ascend to the throne of God. Hence it is, that from the earliest times of the christian religion, they have been made a. part of united worship. How pure, how heartfelt should such music be. The audible breathing of the souls communion with its Maker. The voice of man, directly addressing the Infinite Father! Alas, is it so felt to be? Do we so give the soul to it in our meetings? When prayer and exhortation, fervent and animated, when the sad yet glorious Passover of our Friend and Saviour, and the other high and touching ordinances of our divine religion, shall have sunk to a level with this most abused part of christian worship, and this they might do through a similar lukewarmness, where, amid the surviving idolatry of forms, the mockery of robes and altars, will you find the religion of the heart? This state of the church can never be. Yet when we see the condition of church music, we cannot help asking ourselves, where is now the song of the heart to its Maker, as it was in the day and hour, when at the parting feast, the disciples sang with Jesus? Where is the spirit of that high and holy music? Is it found in the churches? Is it felt in the congregations? Do its tones swell from the lips of those well dressed assemblies, and echo from those vaulted roofs? Let us bring the actual picture near. Let us enter yon handsome, church. It is

vaulted, gilded, carpeted, and cushioned. It is filled with gentlemen and ladies, fashionably attired, and extremely punctilious in their behaviour. The Minister announces the hymn. There is a general rustling of leaves and dresses. The flock are finding the place. The performer, with a business air, has taken his seat at the organ. Orchestral fingers are hastily running up and down the index, of the Handel and Hayden collection. Their hearts are on bars and rests, tones and semitones. They are amateurs; great at solos, catches and rounds. They are resolved to make an impression. It is wonderful what responsibility can rest on the shoulders of a few. Scientifically doth the symphony die away. Invol untarily do the faces of the amateurs lengthen, for great is the importance of Time. Expression, too, is essential. Not a forte or a piano must be neglected-not an interval miscalculated. What a concentration of mind, doth the science of music demand! What reputation is at stake! What a moment for an amateur! Down goeth the wand of the leader. The assembly rises. The rustling of silks goeth up, and the first line of the hymn is lost in the noise. A hundred fans are in motion; a hundred eyes are curiously raised to the choir, and then employed in wandering about the room. Their books are open in their hands, but where is the voice?Where is the mighty chorus of praise, that should burst from that large assembly? Are they all silent? Are they indeed permitting a band of musicians to sing alone, while they amuse themselves with the sound, as if it were made but to tickle the ear, and relieve the tedium of a worship, which to them is a mere form? Is this the object of sacred music? Is it meant to be this cold and intellectual art, confined to a few. Is it never to be again the warm language of united devotion? Is it never to bring with it that beauty in the heart, that love and adoration, that joy of good resolve, that unutterable triumph of the soul, which filled the thoughts, and trembled on the lips of the glorious company of apostles, when all united, because all felt it a privilege thus to pour fourth the deep tide of religious rapture?

Too seriously, we cannot lament this fading away of the spirit of music. In most of those churches where wealth and fashion congregate, all the music is performed by choirs, of from six to twenty persons. In the more wealthy parishes an expensive organ is procured, and professional musicians are employed, not only to perform upon the organ, and to lead the measure, but to sing for the congregation. Some congregations appropriate hundreds, some perhaps thousands

of dollars, for the sake of having what is called scientific music. One object of this, is to attract large congregations. Of the propriety of this, we shall speak hereafter. Sometimes actors and actresses are taken from the stage, and hired to sing in the churches. On such occasions, numbers resort to the house of God, for no other purpose than to hear them. On one occasion, when Mrs. Knight was engaged to sing a solo at a certain church, on the Sabbath, the writer of this was asked, whether the boxes were open for strangers, and whether clapping was allowed! In the more fashionable of those churches where organs are not permitted, it is customary to use the bass-viol, clarionet, the flute and the violin.And both the performers, and the instruments, may often be seen alternately at the church and the ball-room. Independent of the absurdity of dignifying this music with the name of worship, what is the character of the music itself? Most of the choirs are ill organized assemblages of half taught musicians, who seldom practice together, except at service, and are in the constant habit of violating every rule and principle of music. Very few of them have scientific leaders. It is seldom that the organ is not in bad tune, or if they have no organ, that some flute or violin, is not at open war with the rest or that some essential part of the harmony is not wanting, or some voice cracked or discordant. In chanting, when every thing depends upon united practice, these faults are particularly observable. Since, then, the music of the choirs is not scientific, what object is gained by giving them the monopoly? Does it more perfectly accomplish the object of religious worship, to have a little bad music performed by a few persons in a distant corner of the church? Is it in better taste? Is it more respectful to the house of God? :

The writer of this, has known a choir to stop in the middle of a hymn, for no other reason, than the performers had created such a confusion of time and harmony, that it was impossible to go on. What did the congregation do in such a case? They all sat down, in silence and in mortification.Such an instance should have opened their eyes to the impropriety of abandoning this part of christian worship to a few. Better, had they strike it from their service altogether, than conduct it thus. What do we say of those countries where at funerals, the weeping is done by hired mourners? We are shocked beyond measure at such an absurdity. Is it a less wicked farce to worship our Maker by proxy?

The language of the minister is, "Let us continue the worship of God, by singing the hymn." But we act

as if we understood him to say, "Let us continue the worship of God, by hearing the choir sing the hymn." It may be said by way of apology, that the people who hear the sound, and "make melody in their hearts," worship as effectually, as if they actually sang. But we very much doubt whether the hearts of the congregations, have any thing to do with the performance. We have often observed with

pain, that the utmost indifference prevails, while the hymn is singing. We doubt whether it is not from beginning to end, a tasteless and heartless mockery. It is the duty of the whole congregation to join with voice, as well as with heart. We have had enough of pretensions to science. Nevertheless, let there be a choir, and let them sing as scientifically as they please, but let the whole church join them. We venture to say that the music would be improved by it. At all events we do not think it could be made worse. A more universal taste for music would grow up, and this part of the service would become, as it was in the primitive, church, a matter of the heart, and not merely of the ear.

It is for these and other reasons that we approve of the practice of the Methodist churches. We there see the popular influence of music, in its most interesting form. In a mixed congregation of the less artificial and fashionable, great excitement of the religious feelings, always pours itself fourth in music. When the voice of a popular preacher has, in its natural eloquence, humbled them in sorrow, or cheered them with hope-or agitated them with remorse, or filled them with gratitude to God, it pauses only to be echoed by a mightier sound, the united voices of a thousand hearts, pouring forth their high-wrought emotions in the simple language of poetry and music. What other language could they utter? It is the only way in which they can speak together. We do not approve of the paroxysms which sometimes take place at these meetings; but how often have we heard and gloried in the sound of a thousand united voices ascending by one common impulse of adoration and gratitude! making no pretensions to science, but simply singing for the hearts' sake, they are not thinking of bars and rests, but of the majesty of God, and the glory of his religion. Yet we have heard fashionable musicians criticize this part of the Methodist worship, as if it were merely a musical performance! Alas that the profession of music should thus narrow down the contemplation of its great end, as a part of our nature, intellectualize it into a mere science, and reduce all its natural and moral beauty to a cold standard of studied rules! Such criticism we despise. How