Praised be Thy name for ever, O our King!

Thou Sovereign God!

The Great and the Holy in heaven and in earth :
For unto Thee, Jehovah, our God,

And the God of our fathers,

Belong song and praise;

Hymn and psalm;

Strength and dominion;

Victory, greatness, and power;

Adoration and glory;

Holiness and majesty ;

Blessings and thanksgivings;

From this time forth and for ever!

Blessed art Thou, Jehovah!
Sovereign God!

Great in praises;

The God of thanksgivings;

The Lord of wonders;

The Chooser of song and psalmody;
King Eternal! Ever-living God!

Sometimes the utterance of the synagogue is as the voice of one longing soul; now jubilant, now melting into warm, tender, spiritual feeling, and now swelling again into lofty celebrations of Divine Majesty; as if the devout heart breathed by turns the spirit of the Psalms, the Canticles, and the Prophets. So it is in "the Hymns of Glory'

Sweet hymns I attune,

And songs I weave,

For my soul panteth after Thee!

My soul longeth in the shadow of thy hand

All thy secret of secrets to know!

Whilst my words speak thy glory

My heart is yearning for thy love.

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Therefore in Thee I speak of thy glorious things;
And with songs of love I honour thy name:

I will tell of thy glory

Though I saw Thee not;

And though I knew Thee not,

I arrange my similitudes of Thee.

By the band of thy prophets,

By thy trusty servants,

Thou hast symbolized the glorious honour of thy majesty.
Thy greatness and thy might

They named after the powers of thy creation.

They compared Thee,

But not as Thou art;

And they likened Thee,
According to thy works,

They represented Thee in multiplied visions:
Yet behold, Thou art one in all semblances !

Array thyself in the multitude of my psalms,
And let my singing come near to Thee!
Let my praise be a crown to thy head,

And my hymns acceptable incense.

Let the song of the poor be precious to Thee,

As the anthems over the gifts of the altar.

Let my blessing ascend to the Almighty Head,

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The Beginning, the Lifegiver, the Righteous Mighty One!
And when I bless, let thy Head be inclined to me,
And take it to thyself as chief perfumes;

Let it be pleasant to Thee

For my soul panteth unto Thee!

The daughters of Israel have not yet lost the spirit of ancient psalmody. There are Hebrew women now who can emulate the mothers of Hebrew song, who have spiritual warmth enough to revive the service of praise in both synagogue and household; and whose heart, intellect, taste, and culture are sufficient to

prove that the hymns of their fathers may be happily rendered in English metre and rhyme. Mrs. Hester Rothschild has inserted the opening hymn of the Sabbath morning service in her volume of "Prayers and Meditations," and acknowledges her obligation to the talented pen of Mrs. Julius Collins for this beautiful version :

Before thy heavenly Word revealed the wonders of thy will; Before the earth and heavens came forth from chaos, deep and still;

E'en then Thou reignedst Lord supreme! as Thou wilt ever reign,

And moved thy holy spirit o'er the dark unfathom'd main ;

But when through all the empty space thy mighty voice 'was heard,

Then darkness fled, and heavenly light came beaming at thy word;

All nature then proclaimed the king, most blessed and adored!

The great Creator! God alone!-the Universal Lord!

And when this vast created world returns to endless night,
When heaven and earth shall fade away at thy dread word

of might;

Still Thou in Majesty wilt rule, Almighty One alone,

Great God, with mercy infinite, on thy exalted throne.

Immortal power! Eternal One! with Thee what can com

pare,

Thy glory shines in heaven and earth, and fills the ambient air;

All time, all space, by Thee illumed, grows bright and brighter still,

Obedient to thy high behest, and to thy heavenly will.

To Thee dominion sole belongs, and 'tis to Thee alone

My Father! Saviour! living God! I make my sorrows known;

Thy love celestial and divine descends upon my heart, Inspiring courage, hope, and joy, and bidding grief depart.

Protected by thy boundless love, my body sinks to rest; My soul, within thy heavenly arm reposes, calm and blest. Lord of my life! in darkest night I sleep and have no fear, And in the early dawn of day I wake and find Thee near.

As the official honours and powers which have their united seat in Him who is Head over all things to the Church, are by his Spirit divided and distributed among his people, so the "lights and perfections" which are all harmoniously embodied in the psalmody of Holy Writ, are scattered and variously apportioned among the later children of song. With one is the grandeur, with another the beauty; here the sweetness, there the power; this voice is plaintive, that triumphant. Now we have harmony, now gracefulness; now deep contemplative life, and now a full and holy unction.

There are different ministrations. Nor has the gift of coming most agreeably near to the standard of highest hymnic inspiration always fallen on those to whom the Church would soonest look for aid. That God, who perfectly knows every man's mental and moral constitution, and sees at a glance all the fitnesses of human agency for the fulfilment of his own purposes, may sometimes tax the gifts of even a Balaam, and, wrapping him in awful visions, constrain him to give out utterances with which his own will and disposition are somewhat in discord, and which become immortalized as at once witnesses for God, and memorials of the faithless prophet's unconsecrated talents. A Rousseau may dream of heavenly music, and wake to jot down the melody which has helped many Christians to give touching expression to their

purest and sweetest hymns. And who would expect a combination of features so near akin to those of old prophetic psalmody as are now associated in a few productions of Byron, Scott, and Olivers? What a trio! a sensuous scorner, an idolized novelist, and a methodist preacher! And were all these among the prophets? If to write hymns like prophets' hymns is to have the shadow of a prophet's claim, let them share the honour of being in the train of prophetic hymnists. The three men wrote three remarkable hymns, each of which is instinct with some virtue of Hebrew psalmody. Byron has happily caught the spirit of the 137th Psalm, and in his plaintive but spirited melody gives the soul pleasant yet mournful touches, after the manner of the original ode, "By the rivers of Babylon," etc.

We sat down and wept by the waters

Of Babel, and thought of the day

When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters,
Made Salem's high places his prey;

And ye, oh her desolate daughters!

Were scatter'd all weeping away.

While sadly we gazed on the river

Which rolled on in freedom below,
They demanded the song; but, oh never
That triumph the stranger shall know!
May this right hand be wither'd for ever,
Ere it string our high harp for the foe.

On the willow that harp is suspended-
Oh Salem! its sound should be free;
And the hour when thy glories were ended,
But left me that token of thee:

And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended

With the voice of the spoiler by me!