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ON THE LANGUAGE 



an attempt, they have too frequently proved themselves to be equally unac- 

 quainted with the style and character of devotion ; which, like those of every 

 other science (for I am now only speaking- of it in its subordinate and exterior 

 attributes), can only be acquired by a peculiar genius for the task, and a long- 

 course of study in it. Let any one examine critically the Universal Prayer 

 of Pope, or the Feni Creator Spiritus, or Te Deum, of Dryden, and I have 

 little doubt that he will accede to the correctness of this remark. There is a 

 constraint in these productions, which belongs to the writers nowhere else; 

 an elegant exterior, but without a vivifying spirit ; a total want of that happy 

 union of bosom ease, and ardour, and raciness, which the French theologians 

 call unction, that prove a man to be at home upon his subject, to have drunk 

 deeply of the inspiring stream, and that it circulates freely through his heart; 

 that which renders Addison as much superior to both these poets upon this 

 point as he was inferior to them upon every other ; which is deeply impres- 

 sive in Cowper's devotional pieces ; which peculiarly characterizes, not only 

 the more lofty and ornamental, but even the mere doctrinal hymns of Dr. 

 Watts, which admit of but little embellishment ; and which we sometimes 

 behold in the congregational contributions of persons possessing few preten- 

 sions to learning and genius, and who, perhaps, make a boast of their defi- 

 ciency. 



Let it be remembered, that elegance alone will not answer, nor will ease 

 alone answer, nor will general descriptions alone answer ; whether of the 

 perfections of the Deity, the beauty of creation, the penitence of the soul, or its 

 ardent longing for the happiness of heaven, or for communion with God on 

 earth. We have at times seen attempts of this kind (and many of us, as I 

 trust, with real grief of heart) by lyrical writers of the first attainments as 

 poets, but the lowest attainments as Christians, in our own day; and whose 

 direct object has been to furnish words to what has been vended along with 

 them under the name of Sacred Music ; to cheat the sacred hours of the Sun- 

 day, and of those who hail the return of the Sunday, by a show of Sunday- 

 aliment and occupation. Such attempts have had their day, but have never 

 been able to support themselves. In the midst of all their external glitter 

 and polished rhapsody, they have been found vapid and unsatisfactory ; an 

 airy, flatulent food, that the soul could never feed or fatten upon. And, on 

 analyzing several of these attempts, with a friend of the nicest judgment, 

 and who was, at first, strangely captivated by their pretensions, we found, 

 that by a change in a very few of the terms, chiefly, indeed, by a mere sub- 

 stitution of human names for divine, they were reduced, with great advan- 

 tage to themselves, to their proper and natural level of love-ditties and bal- 

 lads, from which alone they seemed to have been raised, by an irreverent 

 adoption of mere misnomers, for the base purpose of finding them a market 

 in what is called the religious world. 



On every account, however, I am much afraid that we must yield the palm 

 of devotional poetry to some of the nations on the Continent. The best 

 French writers upon this subject are Racine the younger, son of the cele- 

 brated dramatist of the same name, John Baptiste Rousseau, and Pompignan; 

 all contemporaries, and the last of whom had the honour of being ridiculed 

 by Voltaire, Helvetius, and their associates, for having had the boldness to 

 deliver before the French Academy, in 1760, a discourse in favour of Chris- 

 tianity. And when to these I add the name of my late venerable friend the 

 Abbe Delille, I fear it will be difficult to muster an equal group, possessing 

 like power, in our own country. Spain, however, in this respect, at least 

 rivals, if it does not surpass the master-poets of France ; as I believe every one 

 must allow, who is acquainted with the sacred poetry of Melendez, Miguel 

 Sanchez, and the Conde de Noroiia. Germany has also a few poets of the 

 same kind of great merit, bat it is to Italy we must turn for the best speci- 

 mens of devotional lyrics in modern times ; — Italy, where, almost from the 

 revival of literature, the devotional muse, though surrounded by corruption, 

 has been courted and warmly caressed by many of her best scholars, her best 

 poets, and her best men. Her sacred verse was at first, indeed, too much 



