shortly before his death at the instance of a stranger who had lost a beloved wife. It generally forms part of the Catholic service for the dead, upon great occasions; and is, perhaps, one of the most soulsubduing pieces of music extant. After an opening exquisitely soft, tender, and plaintive, comes the Kyrie Eleison, then the Dies Iræ, a description of the Judgment, with the feelings and prayer of a sinner in anticipation of it, then the Sanctus and Benedictus. The transition from the terrible scenery of the Last Day to the inquiry of the soul concerning its own fate, "Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?" sung in sotto voce, with the succeeding appeal to the Judge, "Rex tremendæ majestatis," is inexpressibly solemn. Though the words are Latin, a language with which ladies are not supposed to be much familiar, yet the listeners to the requiem, with the ashes of him who had once the Continent at his feet, before them, long since gone to his account, and now more helpless than a worm, might have been more suitably occupied than in marking the melody of Grisi's voice. But alas! this is only another of the ten thousand instances that have been afforded how inconsiderate of the future, and how dead, even in the presence of death, to all right emotions, the natural heart may become! In a recent volume of the Biblical Cabinet, containing some of Tholuck's sermons, the translator, Professor Park, of Andover, speaks of an American clergyman hearing the Dies Ira performed in his church, and finding it impossible to refrain from tears. He introduces the following note from Tholuck, appended to the sermon preached upon the occasion when the hymn was sung: "" This is the second time that this hymn has been sung at the university church-service, to the very excellent tune composed by the music-director, Mr. Naue, to whose interested zeal the liturgical part of divine worship is on all occasions very much indebted. The impression, especially that which was made by the last words, as sung by the university choir alone, will be forgotten by no one." I must confess myself to be one of those persons who, in the nineteenth century, with respect to a great variety of topics, are in doubt whether they see things very clearly; and upon one point it would not be difficult to show, that in perhaps the majority of our congregations, we are not employing all the means that are within our reach, and that are lawful and expedient, to dispose to seriousness and attention the minds of the people. I allude to public worship, not to the matter which enters into it, but to the manner in which it is conducted. We have been dealing too much with men as though they were purely thinking beings, not susceptible of impression through the medium of the senses; in the body, indeed, but sans eyes, sans ears, or with both so dull and accommodating, as to be incapable of being conciliated or annoyed. In avoiding one of the errors of Romanism, that of imposing pompous ceremonials upon the people, and calling the pleasurable and reverent emotions excited by them, religion, the reformers of the Puritan school went off into the opposite extreme, and established a form of worship wholly uninviting to the outward man. This was partly the effect of necessity, but in a great degree it was the effect of policy and choice. But what was innoxious and perhaps laudable in them, would be a grave error in us, and happily the tendencies of our denomination at present are against our persisting in it. How far we may go in safety in consulting in our public services the demands of taste, and the pleasures of sense, is a nice point to determine, and has yet to be determined; but that there is neither reason nor religion in overlooking or needlessly offending either, we may certainly believe. "Mine eye," says the prophet, "affecteth my heart;" and the same may be true of the ear, and both may be true in a good and in a bad sense; and while there is evil in creating a revolting feeling in the mind through the medium of either, it is equally mischievous on the other hand to inspire a pleasurable emotion with which it shall be wholly occupied. Perhaps the existing controversies of the times, of which the utility and scriptural propriety of ancient usages, sought to be revived, form a part, and which may be expected to become much more extensive before they terminate, will contribute to bring us nearer to the "good and right way." Augustine was sorely perplexed by his love of music, fearing to indulge in ornamental psalmody for its own sake, yet conscious that his devotional feelings had often been powerfully excited by the influence of religious song. "When," says he, "I remember the tears I shed at the psalmody of thy church, in the beginning of my recovered faith, and how at this time I am moved, not with the singing, but with the things sung, when they are sung with a clear voice, and modulation most suitable, I acknowledge the great use of this institution. Thus I fluctuate between peril of pleasure and approved wholesomeness; inclined the rather, though not as pronouncing an irrevocable opinion, to approve of the using of singing in the church, that so by the delight of the ears the weaker minds may rise to the feeling of devotion."* The Jesuit missionary, Nobrega, had no such scruples, and made good use of this "delight of the ears," in which he showed sound, practical wisdom. Southey tells us in his History of Brazil, that finding the Tupis passionately fond of music, the Jesuit suited himself to their taste, until he began to hope that the fable of Orpheus was a type of his mission, and that by songs he was to convert the Brazilian pagans. Cum reminiscor lachrymas meas, quas fudi alcantus ecclesiæ tuæ, in primordiis recuperata fidei meæ, et nunc ipsum, cum moveor non canta sed rebus quæ cantantur, cum liquida voce et convenientissima modulatione cantantur; magnam instituti hujus utilitatem rursus agnosco. Ita fluctuo inter periculum voluptatis et experimentum salubritatis: magisque adducor, non quidem irretractabilem sententiam proferens, cantandi consuetudinem approbare in ecclesia: ut per oblectamenta aurium, infirmior animus in affectum pietatis assurgat."—August. Confess. x. 33. He usually took with him four or five choristers on his preaching expeditions; when they approached an inhabited place, one carried the crucifix before them, and the rest began singing the litany. The savages, like snakes, were won by the voice of the charmer, and every where received him joyfully. Tholuck had been preaching upon the repentance and pardon of the thief on the cross when the "Dies Ira" was sung in the university church; and no hymn could be more appropriate to a sermon which closed with the following truly Germanic, but striking, passage: "Sinner, while thou standest on this side the grave, it is never too late for thy repentance: this is the sacred comfort which springs forth from the words of the Redeemer on the cross. "It is too late! Oh! word of terror, which has already fallen like the thunder of God upon many a heart of man! See that father as he hastens from the burning house, and thinks that he has taken all his children with him; he counts, one dear head is missing; he hastens back-It is too late! is the hollow sound that strikes his ear; the stone wall tumbles under the roaring torrent of flame; he swoons, and sinks to the ground. Who is that hastening through the darkness of the night on the winged courser? It is the son who has been wandering in the ways of sin, and now at last longs to hear from the lips of his dying father the word, 'I have forgiven you!' (Soon he is at his journey's end; in the twinkling of an eye he is at the door. It is too late!' shrieks forth the mother's voice, 'that mouth is closed for ever!' and he sinks fainting into her arms. See that victim for the scaffold, and the executioner whetting the steel of death. The multitude stand shivering and dumb. Who is just heaving in sight on yonder distant hill, beckoning with signs of joy? It is the king's express. he brings a pardon! Nearer and nearer comes his step: Pardon! resounds through the crowd-softly at first, and then louder, and yet louder. It is too late!' the guilty head has already fallen! Yea, since the earth has stood, the heart of many a man has been fearfully pierced through by the cutting words, 'It is too late! But oh! who will describe to me the lamentation that will arise, when at the boundaryline which parts time from eternity, the voice of the righteous Judge will cry, It is too late! Long have the wide gates of heaven stood open, and its messengers have cried at one time and another, 'To-day, to-day, if you will hear his voice!' Man, man, how then will it be with you, when once these gates, with appalling sound, shall be shut for eternity! 'Agonise that you may enter in at the narrow gate: for many, I say unto you, shall strive to enter in, and shall not be able. When once the master of the house hath arisen, and shut the door, then shall ye begin to stand, without, and to knock at the door, and to say, Lord, Lord, open to us; and he will answer and say unto you, I know ye not whence ye are.' "But, my friends, the more appalling the truth is, that at the dividing-line between time and eternity, the sentence will be proclaimed,' It is too late!' so much the more consoling is the word flowing down to us from the cross of Jesus, Sinner, while thou standest on this side the grave, it is never too late.' 'Therefore let us fear,' cries an apostle to us, lest we should slight the promise of entering into his rest, and some one of us remain behind: to-day, if you will hear his voice, harden not your hearts.' Whether the voice of thy God will come to thee again, and search thee out—this thou knowest not; but whatever may lie behind thee, whether nights of the darkest error, whether mountains of sin-thou distinctly hearest to-day his proclamation, ‘ It is not too late.'"* * Bib. Cab. vol. xxviii. pp. 56–58. The "Dies Ira" was written about the middle of the thirteenth century, by Thomas von Celano, a Minorite. Mr. Matthias pronounces a just eulogium upon it in his tract entitled "Excerpta ex Hymnis Antiquis." There is an indescribable charm about many of these old hymns, a naked sublimity, a strength without effort, which seems wanting in many modern compositions of the same class, though, of course, they will not find favour with purists in Latinity. Crashaw was the first who paraphrased the hymn in English, soon after his secession from the Protestant church. Pope speaks of it as one of his best pieces, and Warton praises it as a translation, which, without considerable latitude, it can hardly be called. Lord Roscommon died repeating the last two lines, slightly altered, with great energy and devotion. His own version, founded upon Crashaw's, is well known. Sir Walter Scott has imitated the first three verses in his Lay of the Last Minstrel. "Then mass was sung, and prayers were said, And solemn requiem for the dead; And bells tolled out their mighty peal And ever in the office' close The Hymn of Intercession rose : SOLVET SÆCLUM IN FAVILLA; "While the pealing organ rung; HYMN FOR THE DEAD. "That day of wrath, that dreadful day, "When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, "Oh! on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away!" Professor Park, in the volume of the Biblical Cabinet referred to, gives a translation from the Christian Observer. There is one also in "The Hymns of the Primitive Church, by the Rev. J. Chandler." Bishop Mant has not attempted it in his "Ancient Hymns." The following, from an anonymous hand, is more true to the original than the rest. DIES iræ, dies illa, Quantus tremor est futurus, Day of wrath!-that awful day The trembling, the agony, * Or,-Teste David cum Sibylla. |