dead. Luther's rhymed paraphrase of the Psalms has been compared with Watts' version. Being the first of its kind, it obtained immense popularity. "Every village school-boy, among the Protestants, was presently employed to get them by heart, and help to sing them on a Sunday. From that time to the present, the German of Saxony has been considered as the standard of national language."* The contrast between the German and Italian Reform movements is strikingly illustrated by the fact, that while Luther was thus translating the prayers and praises of the King of Israel into vigorous though rugged German, and bequeathing these immortal utterances to his countrymen for an eternal possession, the learned Olympia Morata was occupying her leisure, by rendering parts of the Psalter into Greek Iambies. The one did for a coterie what the other did for an empire. But Luther was not the only sacred poet of this epoch. Ringwald and Schalling deserve a mention; and Paul Eber, the friend of gentle Philip Melancthon, and the author of the hymn, "Herr Jesu Christ, wahr Mensch and Gott," which Hugo Grotius desired might be repeated to him as he was dying, must not be pass. ed over. lurking fear, and stir up the soul to be brave in doing, patient in suffering. No doubts ever crossed his mind about the lawfulness of taking up arms. Fighting under Gustavus, he and all his comrades were obeying a heaven-sent leader, as truly accredited as Joshua, Gideon, or David. "Militare est orare," is the motto inscribed upon his banner while in manly words he prays: "Give strong and cheerful hearts to stand That Satan's fierce and mighty band To wait is ever far harder than to work, to endure than to do. The Reformation had been a time of swift and startling action. The Thirty Years' War was a period of sharp and sore distress. As year after year passed and peace came not, and the fields which the foe had ravished lay untilled, and the homes which Tilly's brutal soldiery had burnt remained unbuilt, the bravest hearts may well-nigh despair. Never was a time at which Jeremiah might more fitly utter his Lamentation. Never was there greater need of an Isaiah to sing "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people." Gerhardt, the Laureate of Sacred Poets, is equal to the stern occasion. Words of consolation are always on his lips - "Surrender." never. His sure and certain trust is in Luther's versions and hymns gave an incredible stimulus to the study of devotional poetry in Germany. A constant succession of hymnists has continued in that country to the present day. Even at the end of the seventeenth century, Counsellor Frankenau made a collection of the 33,712, which he presented, in 300 volumes, to the University library at Copenhagen; and in 1718, Wetzel reckoned 55,000 printed German hymns. Notwithstanding their multiplicity, these productions are separable without much difficulty into three periods. That of the Reformation, to which we have already referred; the period of the Thirty Years' War; and the period of the Mys ties. Considering the second epoch, we shall be much struck with the high order, as well as the vast number, of hymns written during the long protracted struggle between liberty and depotism. Paul Gerhardt was the Tyrtæus of the Thirty Years' War. His verses, like strains of martial music, disperse every *Taylor's Survey of German Poetry, vol. i. p. 168. 'Strong Son of God, immortal love," who, though he chastens his people for a while, will speedily confound their tormentors with sore plagues. "If God be on my side, Then let who will oppose, If God doth love me well, "The world may fail and flee, Thou standest fast forever; Nor fire, nor sword, nor plague from thee, My trusting soul shall sever. No hunger, and no thirst, No poverty or pain, Let mighty princes do their worst, 66 Gerhardt had fellow-singers, who took up the same brave strain. Rist," says Miss Winkworth, "a clergyman in North Germany, who suffered much in youth from mental conflicts, and in after years from plunder, pestilence, and all the horrors of war, used to say, 'The dear cross hath pressed many songs out of me;' and this seems to have been equally true of his contemporaries. It certainly was true of Johann Heermann, the author of some of the most touching Hymus for Passion Week, who wrote his sweet songs under great physical sufferings from ill-health, and amidst the perils of war, during which he, more than once, escaped murder, as by a miracle. So, too, the hymns of Simon Dach, Professor of Poetry in the University of Königsberg, speak of the sufferings of the Christian, and his longing to escape from the strife of earth to the peace of heaven." Friedrich Spee deserves more than a bare mention. He was a Jesuit, but was remarkable for the liberality and benevolence of his mind. More enlightened than one of the greatest luminaries of the English judicial bench, Spee wrote an earnest book against the barbarous custom of witch-burning. It is related that an ecclesiastical superior once asked Spee why his hair was so gray when he was but forty years old. His reply speaks well both for his humanity and his courage: "It is because I have accompanied so many poor women to the stake, there to suffer for the crime called witchcraft, of which I never knew one of them to be guilty." But the hymn of this period, to which most interest is attached, is one composed by Altenburg, and known as Gustavus' battle-song. Very tragic are the associa tions that belong to the " Verzage nicht other, stilled by the awe that falls upon the bravest hearts when events of worldwide import are about to be decided. The thick fogs of an autumn morning hide the foes from each other; only the prolonged shrill note of the clarion is heard piercing through the mist. Then, suddenly, in the Swedish camp there is a great silence. Full of solemn thoughts Gustavus advances to the front rank of his troops, and kneels down in presence of all his followers. In a moment the whole army bends with him, and together they pray the God of Battles that he will defend the right. Then there bursts forth a sound of trumpets, and ten thousand voices join in one spirit-stirring song, (rührendes Lied, as Schiller has it.) It is the last time that Gustavus will sing it. Before many hours are passed, a riderless horse will come flying towards the orphaned troops, and anguish will deepen into revenge so fierce, that the day of their captain's death shall be a day of most bloody triumph. Meanwhile, foreboding no ill, and full of hope, they chant "Fear not, O little flock the foe, Who madly seeks your overthrow, Dread not his rage and power. What though your courage sometimes faints, His seeming triumph o'er God's saints Lasts but a little hour. Amen, Lord Jesus, grant our prayer! So shall thy saints and martyrs raise To this period belongs a hymn, com du Häuflein klein." As we read the stir-posed by George Neumarck, Secretary to ring lines, a vision rises before us of two mighty hosts encamped over against each *First Series. Hymn for the Fifth Sunday after Trinity. *The watchword of the Evangelical Army on this occasion. First Series. Hymn for St. Stephen's Day pp. 17, 18. two men were entirely distinct and dissimilar in every respect. The hymnist appears to have been of a gentle disposition, strong imagination, and ardent love of paradox. Scheffler, on the contrary, was apparently a hard and stern man, not given to versifying. Mr. Vaughan, in his Hours with the Mystics, has thus referred to this confusion of persons: "The latest research has succeeded only in deciding who Angelus Silesius was not. Some Roman Catholic priest or monk assuming the name of Angelus, did, in the seventeenth century, send forth sundry hymns and religious poems-among others, one most euphonistically entitled, The Cherubic Wanderer. The author of this book has been generally identified, on grounds altogether inadequate, with a contemJacob Behmen to the Pope. Suffice it to say, that no two men could be more unlike, than virulent, faggoty-minded, pervert Scheffler, and the contemplative, pantheistic Angelus, be he who he may."-Vol. i. page 322. the Archives at Weimar. "It spread rapidly among the common people, at first without the author's name. A baker's boy, in New-Brandenburgh, used to sing it over his work, and soon the whole town and neighborhood flocked to him to learn this beautiful new song." The third epoch of which we have to speak-that of the Mystics-is very rich in its hymnology. Johann Franck, Angelus, and Gerhard Tersteegen are the laureates of that empire over which Jacob Böhme reigned supreme. Franck was burgomaster of Guben, in Lusatia. Tersteegen was a remarkable character. The youngest of eight children, born in 1697, and early deprived of his father, he made great progress in the study of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. He was in his youth the sub-porary named Johann Scheffler, a renegade from ject of deep religious impressions; and gave up a mercantile life, to which he had been brought up, for the less exciting occupation of a weaver. Subsequently he became a ribbon-maker, at Mühlheim. He always practiced the most rigid self-denial. He lived upon flour, water, and milk; he spent nearly all his earnings in charity; and much incensed his relations by giving to the poor the property which he inherited from his father. He continued to live in voluntary poverty, steadfastly refusing to accept large fortunes which were offered to him by his admiring friends. He wrote many religious books and hymns, and became a very noted preacher, especially among the lower classes. Like Pascal, he studiously avoided the friendship of his fellow-creatures. During his whole life weak and sickly, he died, after much agony, in his seventy-second year. Tersteegen is a most complete example of the Protestant Pietist and ascetic. Of weak bodily powers, he was the constant subject of religious raptures. His hymns, however, of which a large number remain, are, for the most part, quiet and restrained. Concerning Angelus we have a few words to say. Miss Winkworth has adopted the commonly-received opinion, that Angelus, the author of The Cherubic Wanderer, is identical with Johann Scheffler, who, at one time a mystic, afterwards became changed to Popery, and appears to have assumed the same name.* The *The mistake is shared by the author of a very interesting paper on Angelus Silesius, which appeared in the Westminster Review some few years since. Whatever Angelus was by birth or profession, he was certainly a very successful writer of hymns. A large number of his pieces are included in the Gesang-buch, and have been translated by Miss Winkworth. They are all marked by the same plaintive tenderness which is so striking a characteristic of the German school of Mystics. Besides Angelus, Tersteegen, and Johann Franck, mentioned above, there belond to this period Deszler, the philologist of Nürnberg; Anton Ulrich, Duke of Brunswick; Schmolek, and S. Franck. The last-mentioned, who wrote at the beginning of the eighteenth century, must not be confounded with the somewhat celebrated Sebastian Franck, the author of the World Book, and of several theological works, in which he remarkably anticipates the opinions of Barclay, the English Quaker. This writer preceded the hymnist by about a century and a half. The last, and not the least celebrated poet of this school whom we have to mention, is Friedrich Hardenberg- better known under his nom de plume of Novalis. Exceedingly beautiful is his Was war ich ohne dich gewesen, of which Miss Winkworth translates only a part. In the collected edition of Novalis' works, edited by Tieck and Friedrich Schlegel, fifteen of his Geistliche Lieder are included. Several of these are great favorites with the German churches, where they are often sung. Edward Bülow, who some twelve years | becoming cynicism. Contrast some of the ago, in conjunction with Tieck, superin- gloomy verses which we all know too tended the publication of the third vol well, with the beautiful Abendlied of Paul ume of Novalis' remains, narrates a touch- Gerhardt-Nun ruhen alle Wälder. ing anecdote connected with these hymns. The elder Hardenberg, though an affectionate father, never interfered in the proceedings of his children: he even refused to read the writings of his son, Friedrich. Shortly after the death of the latter, Hardenberg entered a Moravian church during divine service. The congregation on that occasion, chanced to sing 66 derfully spiritual song," which he had never before heard, and by which he was most deeply moved. The service ended, he left church, and full of emotion, asked a friend the name of the "splendid hymn" which he had heard, and its composer. "What!" was the astonished reply; "do you not know that your own son wrote it ?"-(Novalis Schriften, theil 3; vorwort, p. 14.) It is, perhaps, too much to say, that Germany maintains its reputation as the chosen country of sacred song. It is not every century that gives birth to a Paul Gerhardt any more than to a Plato, a Bacon, or a Shakspeare. Nevertheless, there are not wanting in the present day hands to strike though in fainter tones -the consecrated lyre. Spitta, Knapp, Puchta, Hensel, have each written hymns not unworthy of a place in the Allgemeines Gesang-buch. The modern hymnist, however, has fallen into the same error, by which the secular poet too often defaces his verses. An excessive subjectivity an undue introspection are greater faults when committed by the former than by the latter. Pieces which are intended for congregational use should have little to do with states of mind which vary from day to day. They should be composed chiefly, if not solely, of thanksgiving and adoration. German hymns are for the most part free from the glaring incongruities which so sadly mar our best. collections. Such frightfully Manichæan lines as Moore's "This world is all a fleeting show, even form no part of the German psalter; nor are congregations of Lutherans called upon to proclaim their own shame in melody, nor sing the sad confession, that they are ashes, dust, and worms. They affect neither a false humility nor an un VOL. XLVI.-NO. II. "Quietly rest the woods and dales, "Sun, where hidest thou thy light? Thy dark and ancient foe? Bespangle the blue sky; Bright and clear, so would I stand, "Now, this body seeks for rest, Types of immortality: "Head, and feet, and hands, once more And night with gladness see. "Weary limbs, now rest ye here, "While my eyes I gently close, Who shall my guardian be? "O my friends, from you this day No danger near have come; A truly Christian song of praise this: genial yet solemn, like Herbert or Fuller; 15 ages: "Thou shalt rise! my dust, thou shalt arise Thy life's first Giver Ah! praise his name! wholly free from the inflated misery of our Milton the Homer of these later. the little worldly-minded dismal Young; or of the little cynical Epicurean noted above. Even in times of sharpest distress, during the myriad troubles of the Thirty Years' War we meet with no Klage-lieder, no weak wailings unnerving those who should be strong to fight, but brave and truthful words, stirring and bracing as a trumpet-call, most manly, most Christian, the more so as every man in the "Evangelical" host feels that he is fighting not only with flesh and blood, but with Satan and all his legions, who, though unseen, are present, and close at their side, to baffle them by fraud and cunning, or overcome them by a superhuman might. Once more, the Hymns of the Land of Luther are for the most part free from those irreverent addresses to the Almighty that disfigure the hymns which English poets have had the bad taste to write, and English compilers the want of sense to make widely known. Sappho and Pindar are not the models which our hymnists should adopt. Sacred erotics are not only an anomoly, but a very blas phemous anomoly. Simplicity, truth, earnestness, are the leading characteristics of the Lyra Germanica. There is no straining for effect, no mock humility, no spiritual lassitude in the hymns of our Teutonic neighbors. The glad-hearted may sing them with "pious mirth;" the sad and sorrowful may swell the choir, and as they sing, their sorrow will be turned into joy. Even around the bed of the dying, and the grave of the departed, the words so softly chanted are accents of hope and encouragement; so that angel-voices are borne to the pilgrim yet struggling through the chill dark waters of Jordan, and heavenly anthemings bid bereaved mourners rejoice over one more soul redeemed and glorified. "Sown in darkness, but to bloom again, The seed now quietly sleeping, "Day of praise! for thee, thou wondrous day, In my quiet grave I stay; And when I number My days and nights of slumber, "Then as they who dream, we shall arise And find that morrow, "Then, with the holiest, I tread, Through heaven soaring, -Hymns from the Land of Luther, Full of beauty as all these hymns are, they lose half their force if separated from the airs that should always accompany them. Not only in psalmody, but more especially in melody, the English are quite outstripped. No operatic fugues disturb the solemnity that reigns over a congregation of German Lutherans or Moravians. In the churches of Germany the grandest chords alternate with the most plaintive cadences. The full organ succeeds the flute stop, and the pathos sets off to wonderful advantage the majesty of music. The Lyra Germanica contains a large We rejoice that some of these fine old number of Morning, Evening, and Fune- tunes are making their way into our ral Hymns. Many of these are of ex-churches and chapels. The Psalter menceeding beauty. Gerhardt's Abendlied, al- tioned at the head of these remarks conready quoted, and the Morgenlieder of tains many of the best hymns and tunes Heinrich Albert, and the Baron Von Canitz, (the latter a special favorite with Dr. Arnold,) may well compare with Bishop Ken's well-known pieces. We have space for neither in this paper, but must content ourselves with a funeral hymn, written by no less celebrated a poet than Klopstock, whom his countrymen deemed the Virgil, as they counted But that even Germany has to offer. Espe- |