Imagens da página


But there is a second way in which music may be regarded. It is of the greatest service as a vehicle, if I may use the word, of conveying in concord pleasing to the ear the common aspirations of the band of worshippers towards the divine and spiritual. This I do not hesitate to assign as above all others its true place and proper function.

And in this sphere its application to the various circumstances and tastes of our churches is almost without limit. We are, none of us, prepared, I dare say, to go so far as to ask for a full choral service; but are there not many amongst us who would like to see our singing varied by the introduction of an anthem, wherein we might sing, in the very words of Holy Writ, the ascriptions of praise and breathing out of the soul to God with which many parts of the Bible abound? In similar manner, the chanting of the Psalms may be made a most enjoyable exercise, clothing the words with a new and a deeper meaning, and winging them for their upward flight to Him whose glory they proclaim, and whose aid they invoke.

Some cautious souls may fear lest this should lead to formalism, and to a return to some of the evils of the Church's worship which were abandoned by our Puritan forefathers for a simpler and purer service. But it may well be questioned whether much of the singing of our ordinary hymns to well-worn tunes is not too much tainted with this very spirit.

On a review of the whole question, we shall, I think, conclude that music has had, has to-day, and will have in all time, a place of the highest importance in our religious worship. Some one has said that if only he had the making of the people's ballads, he cared little who made their laws. There is no way in which truth of any kind can be taught more readily than when it is wedded with suitable music; and this is pre-eminently true of religious truth, which appeals to the emotional and spiritual part of our nature, where music holds its sway. Many of us will agree with the remark of a friend of mine a few weeks ago, who, in recalling the pleasurable evenings spent in bye-gone years in connection with a musical society, and in the study of some of the works of the great masters, said it was “just like Heaven.” This is certainly what we want to feel in the worship of the Church, and if music will help us to get it, we will accord to music a large and prominent place. But it must come, not as master, but as servant. Our singing, whether of hymn, or anthem, or chant, must be such as every member of the church or congregation can be reasonably expected to join in. Let us cultivate by all means the musical skill of the people, and, as they become capable of appreciating and joining in that which is more difficult, provide for their needs. The conditions which should be insisted on in carrying out the musical part of our services are, that there shall be no mere display, the singing shall be true worship, the instrumental shall be everywhere and always subsidiary to the vocal music, and the tunes so well within the range of the skill of the worshippers that, while they “make a joyful noise” with the lip, there shall be welling up from the heart a fountain of “melody unto the Lord.”

This must be our aim; it will be little wonder if, in our imperfect and incomplete existence, we fall short of the mark. In this, as in all else, we are carried on the stream of eternal hope to the “happy land— far, far away.”



Let us for a few moments humbly and reverently think of the place of music in the worship of the Church triumphant.

“The redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion; and everlasting joy shall be upon their head; they shali obtain gladness and joy; and sorrow and mourning shall flee away.”

So proclaimed the prophet Isaiah to the Jews in their captivity. And we, wanderers in a strange land, far from our Father's home, find in it a prophecy not yet completely fulfilled. We, whose voices often weary and falter, and whose ears are often pained by the discord and want of unity which mar our earthly worship, would fain draw aside the vail, and, peering out into the darkness, look for the white-robed choir, and listen to the many-voiced song. Looking off from his lonely prison on the rock of Patmos, John saw how on a sea of glass mingled with fire there stood those " that had gotten the victory over the beast and over his image, and over his mark, and over the number of his name, having the harps of God; and they sang the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb, saying, 'Great and marvellous are Thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are Thy ways, Thou King of Saints.”” We faintly echo their ascriptions of praise ! and in our better moments, when the things of the earth, which too often fill our hearts, are driven back to their proper place, and we realize our privilege and our destiny, we long for the time when

“Our spirits, too, shall quickly join,

Like theirs with glory crowned,
And shout to see our Captain's sign,

To hear His trumpet sound.” How well have the aspirations of our hearts at such moments as these been translated into song by one of the sweetest writers in our beautiful Hymnal :Around the throne on high,

We in Thine angels' music still
Where night can never be,

May bear our lower part.
The white-robed harpers of the sky

'Tis Thine each soul to calm, Bring ceaseless hymns to Thee.

Each wayward thought reclaim, Too faint our anthems here;

And make our daily life a psalm
Too soon of praise we tire;

Of glory to Thy name.
But, О the strains how full and clear,

A little while, and then
Of that eternal choir !

Shall come the glorious end;
Yet, Lord, to Thy dear will,

And songs of angels and of men
If Thou attune the heart,

In perfect praise shall blend.


The Broad Shoulders.

Cast all thy care on God,

Nor deem thou doest wrong;
With ease He'll bear the largest load,

For He is very strong.
What makes thy spirit bend

He will not feel at all; The mighty universe itself

To Him is very small. Then be thou wise at once,

Come in thy need to Him;

Why should'st thou bear the cross alone,

Which wearies every limb?
If thou should'st longer stay,

'Twill grow in size and weight,
Until it crush thee in the dust,

And make thee wise too late.
Be this thy heart's true creed;

God knows thy every care,
And only waits thy willingness
Thee and thy cross to bear.


[ocr errors]

AN observant man remarked to one of our fellow-students at Trinity College, that every Englishman will observe three things in passing through Dublin, viz., “fine public buildings, good English, and dirt.” The first feature belongs to the best parts of the city, the last feature to the worst, and the remaining one prevails everywhere.

Few cities that it has been my good hap to visit in England, Scotland, France, or Italy, can boast of streets and buildings that are equal to those of Dublin. The scene that presents itself to the observer from the O'Connell Bridge, which spans the Liffey at about the centre of the city, is one of unusual interest. For stately public buildings it reminds one of Liverpool; for the straightness of its streets, as seen from that particular spot, it recalls to memory Turin; the towering monuments and statuary make vivid once more recollections of Florence; its Liffey reminds one of the Tiber; and the majestic bridge itself has but few equals in the world. Seven streets, conspicuous amongst which is the far-famed Sackville Street, all lead directly to this ponderous piece of modern masonry.

The largest and most prominent structure in Dublin is Trinity College; and not only the largest in Dublin, but, until contradicted, we shall call it, as a College, the largest and, of course, the best in the world. To one standing in the open space facing the front of the buildings, they present an imposing sight. To the right is the provost's house, erected in 1760, at a cost of £13,000, and is a facsimile of a house in Piccadilly, London, designed by the Earl of Burlington, and built for General Wade. The other side of the arched gateway leading into the College enclosure are statues of Burke and Goldsmith, who were formerly students at this College, and on a pane of the study window occupied by the latter his name remains as he inscribed it. Passing under the arched gateway we have before us four squares known as the Front Square, the Library Square, Botany Bay Square, and the New Square, the last, was begun in 1838 and finished in 1844. Of the buildings of the original College of Queen Elizabeth no portion now remains. The most prominent object in the Front Square is the Campanile, containing the College bell, weighing nearly 39 cwt. Close by is the Examination Hall, containing some fine portraits in oil of Queen Elizabeth, Archbishop Usher, Bishop Berkley, and Edmund Burke. The latter Was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. There is also an organ placed in the gallery over the entrance, which is said to have been taken from one of the ships of the Spanish Armada. Near to the Examination Hall is the celebrated Library, which is one of the largest in the world. The story of the origin of this Library is thus told: “In the year 1601 the Spanish troops were defeated by the English at Kinsale, and Her Majesty's army, to commemorate their victory, subscribed the sum of £1,800 from the arrears of their pay to establish, in the University of Dublin, a public library. Dr. Challoner and Mr. James Usher, afterWards the celebrated Archbishop, were selected by the benefactors as the trustees of their donation, and commissioned to purchase such books as they should judge most necessary and useful for the advancement of


learning. And it is somewhat remarkable that at this time, 1603, when the said persons were in London about the laying out this money in books, they met Sir Thomas Bodley buying books for his newlycreated library at Oxford, hence there began a correspondence between them upon this occasion, helping each other to procure the choicest and best books on several subjects that could be gotten; so that the famous Bodleian Library at Oxford, and that at Dublin, began together.” The library is continually increased by copies of every book published in England. This privilege is enjoyed by Act of Parliament passed in the reign of George III.

There are six Museums in Trinity College which are used for practical instruction in Natural Philosophy, Anatomy and Zoology, Geology and Mineralogy, Engineering Models, Materia Medica and Botany. The buildings are very extensive, and have been erected at an enormous cost. One of them contains a clock in electric connection with the Observatory clock at Dunsink.

There is also an “Herbarium,” consisting of eight acres of ground, and containing indigenous plants of the British Islands, together with plants of North America, British India, South Africa, and Australia, etc. These gardens are situated about one mile from the College, and are open to visitors on obtaining an order from the Provost, or any of the Fellows.

About sixty Professors form the teaching staff in the College. The Provost (John Hewitt Jellet) is a scholar of rare attainments. He succeeded Dr. Humphrey Lloyd two years ago. He is the author of several well-written works in Mathematics and Chemical Optics; also of able treatises on “The Moral Difficulties of the Old Testament,” and “The Efficacy of Prayer.” The name of the Senior Lecturer (Professor Haughton) has for many years been familiar to the public. He, together with Dr. Galbraith, has written a considerable series of Manuals on Trigonometry, Astronomy, Mechanics, Optics, and other subjects, published by Cassell & Co. Dr. Salmon, well known in the mathematical world as author of a treatise on Analytic Geometry, and on the Higher Plane Curves, is now the Regius Professor of Divinity. One of the most copious writers amongst the Fellows of the College is the Rev. J. P. Mahaffy, Professor of Ancient History. He is Knight (gold cross) of the order of the Saviour in Greece, and distinguished himself by an oration delivered in the Greek tongue when in that country. He is the author of a work on the Social Development of the Greeks, “Kant's Critical Philosophy for English Readers,” Greek Social Life from Homer to Menander, etc., etc. He has also written a work, lately reviewed by the Christian World, on the “Decay of Preaching.”

With professors of such reputation and known scholarship, and with such appliances as residence affords for gaining knowledge, life at Trinity College cannot fail in being inspiriting and helpful. The writer will number amongst the golden days of his life those in which he sat to listen to the lectures from such able scholars as Professors Mahaffy, Williamson, and McKay, while the preparation for the periodic examinations has been as oil to the mental gear, beside providing an additional charm in ministerial work. J. JoDLY.

friend or foe?




CHAPTER III.-NEWS FROM ABROAD. REARDEN laughed lightly when Oliver had finished his story.

“Isn't this just the very thing you expected ?” he asked, pleasantly. Then, seeing Oliver's puzzled expression, he burst into an immoderate fit of mirth.

“Ha, ha, ha! Don't,” he gasped—“don't, for pity's sake, or you'll be the death of me. Ha, ha, ha!"

Rearden seemed to be so genuinely diverted, and his manner was so agreeable and “catching,” that Oliver began to smile—a little awkwardly, though.

“That's right, old fellow-laugh it off,” said Rearden, recovering. “Even if it were a serious matter, it wouldn't be worth while to let it make you serious. But it is not serious-quarrels of that sort never are, for the lady is very quickly conquered; unless,” he added, with momentary gravity," she is of the strong-minded class, when—1, at least think-it is a gain to lose her.”

“But Elsie was so passionate"

“Well, and what is that but a sign of love? Ha, ha, ha! Upon my word, I beg your pardon, but I can't help laughing at you: your childlike simplicity is so perfect. You take it too much to heart, as I said before. You have nothing whatever to do but wait till Miss Elsie gets over her passion. Is any. thing simpler ?”

Oliver rose, flushed and defiant. “You are right, Amos," he said, feeling himself in a somewhat awkward position, and unconsciously identifying Elsie with the cause. Don't look like that, man,” rejoined Rearden, still laughing, as he rose

“One would think you meant destruction to anyone coming within arm's length of you. Come out and have a game. You've got the 'blues,' and there isn't a finer cure. Come."

Rearden was a true prophet in this, for they had not been in the billiardroom fifteen minutes before Oliver had utterly forgotten everything, and revelled in the excitement of the company and the delirium of play.

As to Rearden himself, however, the case was slightly different. He had no "blues” to get rid of, but the peculiar thoughts awakened in his mind by the other's story remained with him through all. He nodded to one, on entering the billiard-room, smiled at another, shook hands with a third, and then played with his usual coolness and skill. But still these thoughts remained with him. What their nature was, or even that they were there, no one would have guessed by looking at his smiling, agreeable face. Perhaps, indeed, he did not himself know, not being given to psychological study. Perhaps he did not even know how pleasant they were—how sweet it was to live, so to speak, in the influence of some charming possibility, without exactly knowing what that possibility was, just as we may joyously walk in the bright sunshine and yet be quite forgetful of what causes our pleasure. Be this as it may, the thoughts were there, and they were certainly very pleasant ones. What thoughts would not be so, associated with memories of a graceful figure, of the sound of a sweet voice, of a pair of beautiful blue eyes, whose owner had charmed us-perhaps without our knowing it—more than we could say ?

But when a man has in his mind such thoughts and visions as these, he cannot, if they persist in haunting him, remain long in ignorance, either of their presence or of their nature, and the pleasing influence they are exerting over him ; to walk in sunbeams is, sooner or er, to become conscious of them and of the bright orb whence they come.

Rearden found this true. Not that evening only, but for many days after, his thoughts and visions attended him. Morning, noon and night, at home, in business, in company, alone-still their presence was with him, and always associated with some possibility connected with the quarrel. Then the truth suddenly burst upon him.

« AnteriorContinuar »