Dr. Watts, a genuine Christian, believing in the union of the Father, Son, and Spirit, and manifesting this pure faith to the end of a well-spent life, gives the Christian meaning of this righteousness, in his version of the 4th Psalm:
Know that the Lord divides his Saints
From all the tribes of men beside,
He hears the cry of penitents
For the dear sake of Christ who died.
Here the true typical and prophetic meaning of the Old Testament is given.
The version used by the English church in the 5th Psalm is subject to the same observation as on the 4th.
The church version is
Thou in the morn shall hear my voice
And with the dawn of day,
To thee devoutly I look up,
To thee devoutly pray.
Dr. Watts, who gives the Christian meaning of this Psalm, translates or paraphrases thus truly:—
Lord in the morning thou shall hear
My voice ascending high,
To thee will I direct my pray'r,
To thee lift up mine eye.
Up to the hills where Christ is gone
To plead for all his Saints,
Presenting at his father's throne,
Our songs and our complaints.
Psalmody, or the singing of sacred music, conducted by such a gracious and animated sense of the revealed word of God, must naturally be performed, as it must be ardently felt, in a different spirit—and this truth we perceive daily verified; but while a considerable portion of our clergy not only are strict in confining the singing to the last version, or to parts of Sternhold, and even prescribe the very dull old tunes to be made use of, improvement in church music is not to be expected. I have before me a list of tunes, to which the organists of our churches and episcopal chapels are limited in their playing; and, what is singular, three of the chief clergymen of the churches confess they literally have no ear for music, and are utter strangers to what an octave means, and yet their authority decides.
It is not intended to enter into any polemical discussion, as controversy is not necessary to the improvement of psalmody; but less than has been stated would not have shown the advantage to be acquired by the use of a more Christian sense to those who rely on Christ as their Redeemer. We know, from experience, how agreeable it is to the mind and senses to hear the praises to the Almighty sung by the proper rules of harmony, and with what spiritual animation the upright and sincere youth of both sexes unite in this delightful service.
With these views, I respectfully submit to the clergymen of the new churches to pursue the course which receives such universal approbation in St. James's Chapel, Mornington-place, Hampstead-road. The simplicity and effect must be strong motives to excite their attention, and I hope to witness its adoption.
THE THIEF
I tell with equal truth and grief,
That little C—'s an arrant thief,
Before the urchin well could go,
She stole the whiteness of the snow.
And more—that whiteness to adorn,
She snatch'd the blushes of the morn;
Stole all the softness aether pours
On primrose buds in vernal show'rs.
There's no repeating all her wiles,
She stole the Graces' winning smiles;
'Twas quickly seen she robb'd the sky,
To plant a star in either eye;
She pilfer'd orient pearl for teeth,
And suck'd the cow's ambrosial breath;
The cherry steep'd in morning dew
Gave moisture to her lips and hue.
These were her infant spoils, a store
To which in time she added more;
At twelve she stole from Cyprus' Queen
Her air and love-commanding mien;
Stole Juno's dignity, and stole
From Pallas sense, to charm the soul;
She sung—amaz'd the Sirens heard
And to assert their voice appear'd.
She play'd, the Muses from their hill,
Marvell'd who thus had stole their skill;
Apollo's wit was next her prey,
Her next the beam that lights the day;
While Jove her pilferings to crown,
Pronounc'd these beauties all her own;
Pardon'd her crimes, and prais'd her art,
And t'other day she stole—my heart.
Cupid, if lovers are thy care,
Revenge thy vot'ry on this fair;
Do justice on her stolen charms,
And let her prison be—my arms.
SHAKSPEARE
In the Drama entitled Shakspeare's Early Days, the compliment which the poet is made to pay the queen: "That as at her birth she wept when all around was joy, so at her death she will smile while all around is grief," has been admired by the critics. In this jewel-stealing age, it is but just to restore the little brilliant to its owner. The following lines are in Sir William Jones's Life, translated by him from one of the Eastern poets, and are so exquisitely beautiful that I think they will be acceptable to some of your fair readers for their albums.
TO AN INFANT
On parent's knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat'st, while all around thee smil'd.
So live, that sinking to thy last long sleep,
Calm thou may'st smile, while all around thee—weep.
THE RUINED WELL
The form of ages long gone by
Crowd thick on Fancy's wondering eye,
And wake the soul to musings high!
Where are the lights that shone of yore
Around this haunted spring?
Do they upon some distant shore
Their holy lustre fling?
It was not thus when pilgrims came
To hymn beneath the night,
And dimly gleam'd the censor's flame
When stars and streams were bright.
What art thou—since five hundred years
Have o'er thy waters