We do not assert that many other ends are not attained through public worship; ends quite distinct from the one we have dwelt upon. The preaching may refute error; may combat vice; may quicken the intellect; may give direction to public sentiment on particular moral and religious questions. It may, and should do all this; but it should do it through the feelings awakened in the acts of worship. It is through the awakened soul that the attention must be arrested, the understanding enlightened, and conviction of sin attained. It is through the subdued feelings that exhortation, reproof and rebuke should be administered. Otherwise the preacher's claim to be the ambassador of God finds no response in the hearer's heart. It is on this principle of the relation of the feelings to the understanding, that most of the acts of worship precede the delivery of the sermon.

The soul then must lead the understanding, in the house of God. The preparatory acts of worship are not a mere getting ready to hear the sermon, as if that were the great service of the day; but they are acts standing in their own right on the deepest principles in man, and the call to these acts is a call on every worshiper to surrender himself heartily to the performance of them. Woe to the people that despise this call! woe, not in the ban of ecclesiastical censure, but in the failure-partial or entire -of the ends for which public worship is appointed. It is because the question before us is no mere matter of taste, but closely connected with growth in grace, and with salvation, that we write thus earnestly.

And now we ask, what is done in our arrangements of worship, to satisfy these wants of the soul?

The worshipers assemble in the same house. This is something, for it betokens common sentiment, and tends, in a degree, to strengthen it. The worshipers seat themselves and are silent. This is more for it betokens a serious feeling. What further do these worshipers do, gathered thus from all varieties of life; what further do they do, to aid in banishing their private thoughts and cares, and to cherish and kindle the feelings of worship? In many of our congregations what we have stated is the whole, saving that at the close they rise to receive the benediction, and then go out. For in many places, so far has the perverse idea that the sermon is the exclusive business of the place and of the day, wrought mischief in the usages of God's house, that the people neither unite in singing nor rise to pray.

Shall we stop here, to meet the possible objection, that our views would lead to a formal rather than a spiritual worship? Should any of our readers enter so little into the spirit of these remarks as to make so groundless an objection, we will still be patient, and for the love we bear him, will say, that what pretends to be worship is not necessarily spiritual when the worshiper

is still and silent. It may be just as far from being spiritual as it is from being formal; for the man with his solemn look and closed mouth may be thinking of his cattle and his corn. Would he be more likely to have these ill-timed thoughts, if his mouth were opened in the praise of God? Can not the objector find relief, by thinking of the Apostle's fervent entreaty to his brethren, that they would present their bodies a living sacrifice to God? And in what way can these persons be more fitly employed in an offering to God, than in uttering his praise, in concert with the brethren?

If we will examine the matter closely, we shall see that singing by the congregation is the most natural and appropriate of all the possible means for the expression of their religious feelings. It may be thought that the same end is attained in the simultaneous utterance with the speaking voice, of words in a liturgy. But there are two important points of difference. First, singing is in itself an expression of feeling, without reference to the words uttered; while language is the natural expression, not of feeling, but of thought; and expresses feeling only through the conventional meaning attached to words, and in the low degree in which the words may be uttered in the tones of emotion. Secondly, a multitude singing together utter sounds in harmony; a multitude speaking together necessarily speak in discord. The voices may in themselves be melodious, but they do not hold any concerted relation to each other, in a harmonic point of view. It may be said that a multitude of voices, speaking together, produces a grand and elevating impression. This is granted, but the effect is produced, not without discords, but in spite of them; how much greater then would it be, were the discords removed, as they would be if the multitude should sing together! We say how much greater; and we leave the question unanswered, for we have few illustrations, if any, of the full power of congregational singing. We believe a great field, as yet unexplored, is yet before us in reference to this part of divine worship; and we thank the compilers of the book now before us, for their considerate, earnest and sympathizing attempt to open the way for this usage in our churches.

But there is another point of view from which congregational singing seems to us as important as from the one we have already taken. We mean its influence on children and youth. We could say much on the importance of the study and practice of music, as a means of culture for the young, as fitted to refine the taste, enlarge the sources of innocent enjoyment, and develop kindly the social affections. But this would be to view it as a branch of education, which is no part of our present object. We now speak of it in its religious aspect alone, when we urge the importance of congregational singing in its influence on the young.

Besides the benefits in the season of worship, which children would enjoy in common with their parents, the practice of congregational singing would store the memories of the young with the richest expressions of devotional feeling. Religious truth would not come to them exclusively in abstract propositions, in the mould of which every other expression of it must be cast, before it can be accepted; but it would surround and pervade the soul in a thousand living forms, instinct with the self-same spiritual life which beat with strong pulsation in the souls of psalmists, and prophets, and of all who have been inspired to clothe their holy thoughts in immortal words. Let the children and youth of our churches live in such influences; let religious truth be charmed into their souls by the power of sacred song, by the strong sympathy that unites all hearts in one tide of feeling before God; let these be the influences, sabbath after sabbath, till the age of reflection and doubt and skepticism shall come, as come it must; and we need not fear that they will be found unprepared for the trial. Divine truth will have become entwined with so many affections and remembrances, that it will not be rooted out. For ourselves, we would rather commit our child to such influences, in the hope of his having ultimately an abiding Christian faith, than obtain for him, if we could, the most elaborate instruction, in purely doctrinal form, which man could give, or a child receive.

This part of our subject suggests the inquiry whether our Sabbath schools are working in thorough harmony with the nature of the young minds they have in charge. We flatter ourselves that a great advance was made in Sunday school instruction, when the exercise of merely committing verses to memory was abandoned for a critical study of the lesson through question and answer. It is a fair inquiry whether we have not lost as well as gained, and whether our experience of both ways may not suggest something better than either. This question, however, opens the whole philosophy of Sunday school instruction; and we leave the subject for other hands, or for some other occasion.

But, if congregational singing is of so much importance to the churches, how can it be introduced? We answer, it can not be produced any where in a week, or a month. It can not be successfully introduced by aiming too high at the outset, or by expecting impatiently that the greatest possible good will be immediately realized. The change can be effected only by each person's cheerfully and always doing whatever is in his power to further it. Let all who wish well to so good a cause, skillfully discourage the rage for worthless street songs, and get this nuisance quietly abated, as far as possible. When this is done, it will be easier to encourage what is better; for music is in the

soul, and if its perversion is suppressed, it may be drawn forth in pure and ennobling forms. Congregational singing may also be encouraged by inducing young men to forego the excitements of martial music, and engage in the more elevating study of sacred song. Allowing to martial music all its just value, we may still wisely labor to draw the minds of the young to what is more elevating and pure.

Another important aid in promoting congregational singing will be found in the prevalence of juster views respecting musical culture as an accomplishment of female education. Without wishing to see less expenditure or labor bestowed on this branch. of education, we would gladly see it more wisely directed. Thousands of young ladies are toiling all in vain in this pursuit, from foolishly neglecting the culture of the voice, and bestowing all their pains upon the instrument. This is directly in violation of nature's law. Nature has appointed the voice as the prime medium for the utterance of whatever music there is in the soul; and it is through the voice that the best musical susceptibilities will be awakened, even if the pupil has ultimately in view the highest progress in instrumental music. We speak not of occasional exceptions, but of the general law. Never, until the voice ceases to be the sovereign interpreter of the soul's emotions, can musical culture accomplish its true end while leaving the voice undeveloped. The position we take deserves an entire essay; but we state it here only for its incidental bearing on our present subject. Instruction in sacred music should be regarded as a standing interest in every congregation; provided for as one of the essential wants, and under the control of the highest religious sentiment in the community. Then will the musical instincts of the people be brought under Christian control; the rills which would otherwise run to waste will be united in a refreshing river.

ART. V. THE BIGLOW PAPERS.

Melibaus Hipponax. The Biglow Papers, edited with an Introduction, Notes, Glossary and copious Index; by HOMER WILBUR, A.M., Pastor of the First Church in Jaalam, &c. Cambridge: George Nichols. 1848. 12mo, pp. 163.

It may be questionable in the judgment of some readers of the New Englander, whether the serious and practical tone of our grave quarterly, will permit us to occupy its pages with what we feel disposed to say, concerning young Hosea's first appearance as author, and Parson Wilbur's no less noteworthy first ap

pearance as editor. It may surprise, and possibly offend, some very good people, that we take any notice of a book, which one class of critics will regard only as a foolish attempt to make people laugh, and which another class will be sure to denounce, as full of the most wicked and diabolical mockery. And yet, though we have laughed, heartily-almost dangerously-over some passages in these "Biglow Papers," it is by no means with the desire to make the readers of this journal laugh, not even to amuse them, that we undertake to say something about the spirit and contents of this singular book. In fact it is in sober earnest, that we would review a publication which has ruffled the wonted quiescence of our cachinatory muscles more effectually than any other book of the season.

The book (of which James Russell Lowell is understood to be the author) is made up in this way. Homer Wilbur, A.M., &c., &c., Pastor of the First Church in Jaalam, appears as editor and patron in behalf of a "talented young parishioner" of his, Hosea Biglow. This town of Jaalam is not defined geographically, otherwise than that the reader is left to infer, from good reason, that it is in the neighborhood of the metropolis of New England. Hosea conceives that he has a talent for writing poetry, though by the unnecessary testimony of his father Ezekiel, he has "no great shows of book larnin." The subject which seems most frequently to have kindled the fire of his untutored muse, was the recent war with Mexico, its causes and consequences. June, 1846, Hosea was in Boston, and there encountered a recruiting "Sarjunt," parading the streets with drum and fife, collecting patriots to fight the battles of their country in Mexico. Our not less patriotic poet, was so indignant at being solicited himself to join in the expedition for military glory, that on returning home, he could get no rest, till he had poured out his wrath in some hundred and fifty lines addressed to the recruiting officer and his two followers, and published afterwards in the Boston Courier. This effusion forms the first piece purporting to come from the pen of Hosea, in the present collection. Next he turns into his own Yankee verse a letter sent home by Birdofredum Sawin, a private in the Massachusetts regiment, serving in Mexico. Then Mr. "John P. Robinson, he" writes and publishes a letter commending General C. to the suffrages of his fellow citizens in the Bay State, for the office of governor; and our young poet indulges in some caustic reflections on the substance of that letter. These verses, under the title, "What Mr. Robinson thinks," have been very extensively circulated through the political papers of the day, and, in our judgment, are the most "palpable hit" in the volume. Next we have Hosea's report of the indignant remarks, made by Increase D. O'Phace, at an "extrumpery caucus," on hearing that a representative in Congress