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Oh! the trembling there will be !— Every eye the Judge shall see, Come for strictest scrutiny.

Loud shall peal the trumpet's tone
Through the graves of every zone,
Forcing all before the throne.

Death and nature, in surprise,
Shall behold the creature rise,
Summoned to the grand assize.

Now, the books* shall be unrolled,
In whose volumes manifold
All the deeds of time are told.

When His seat the Judge has ta'en,
Hidden things will hide in vain-
Nothing unavenged remain.

What shall I, a wretch, then say?
Unto what kind patron pray,
When the righteous feel dismay?
King of dreadful majesty,
Whose salvation is so free,
Fount of pity, save Thou me!
Jesu, Lord, remember, I
Caused Thy coming down to die:
Lest I perish, hear my cry!
By Thee weary I was sought,
By Thy bitter passion bought:
Can such labor go for naught?
Just Avenger, let me win
Full remission of my sin
Ere the day of doom begin.
Like a criminal I groan;
Blushing, all my guilt I own:
Hear, O God! a suppliant's moan!

Mary's pardon came from Thee,
And the robber's on the tree,
Giving also hope for me.

Though my prayers no merit earn,
Let Thy favor on me turn,
Lest in quenchless fire I burn.

From the goats my lot divide;
'Mongst the sheep, a place provide,
On the right hand justified.

As the wicked, clothed in shame, Pass to fierce tormenting flame, With the blessed call my name. Broken-hearted, low I bend; From the dust my prayer I send : Let Thy mercy crown my end!

When, on that most tearful day,
Man, to judgment waked from clay,
Quails at Thine uplifted rod,
Spare the guilty one, O God!

Jesu, Lord, their trials o'er,
Grant them rest for evermore!

Amen.

* Changed to the plural. See Rev. xx. 12.

WORDSWORTH'S "ODE ON IMMORTALITY."

BY REV. J. SPANGLER KIEFFER.

The writer of this article cherishes, no doubt in common with many other readers of the GUARDIAN, a grateful recollection of one particular and memorable service rendered by this magazine, a good many years ago. We refer to the fact that it was through the GUARDIAN, and by means of an article from the pen of its Editor, Rev. Dr. Harbaugh that we first became acquainted with Wordsworth's Ode on "Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood." We do not remember the year in which the article appeared; but of the article itself, and, in particular, of the effect produced upon us by our introduction, through it, to the poem which formed its theme, we have the most vivid recollection. It came to us, fortunately, in the time of boyhood; it was received with that devouring eagerness, that high enthusiasm, that strange and thrilling sense of exaltation, of which boyhood, more than any subsequent age, is capable. That was a memorable occasion for us,-scarcely less, indeed than an epoch in our life-when the good Dr. Harbaugh, to whom it fell, in the course of his life, to be a guide to so many young persons to the knowledge of high and great things, led us to the knowledge of this immortal Ode. What we felt on that occasion is described, far better than we could describe it ourselves, by the language of that Sonnet in which Keats expresses his feelings, " On First Looking into Chapman's Homer: "

"Then felt I like some watcher of the skies,
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific-and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-
Silent, upon a peak in Darien. "

Nor did the admiration and enthusiasm, not unmingled with awe, with which we recognized and welcomed this Poem, when it was first made known to us, pass away eventually, as many of the enthusiasms of boyhood are wont to do. They have, on the contrary, grown stronger as time has advanced. For, like all that is really great, whether in nature or art, the poem in question pos

sesses this characteristic, that it dawns upon one, that its full significance and power come only gradually and slowly forth; having, as it were, a multitude of aspects, or phases, and, out of its opulence of import, adapting itself in a marvelous manner to changing moods, new experiences, and successive stages in life. Since first we learned to know it, this Ode has "dwelt apart "in our affections; or, at least, has shared with but several others out of the many poems we hold dear, the very highest place of honor and power. It has been to us, as far as human production may be, a refuge and an inspiration; a companion in solitude; a stay amid distraction; a solace in hours of weariness or sorrow. How often (for, years ago, we committed it to memory, word for word) have we fallen asleep at night to the sound of its grand and solemn music; a music which has ever seemed to us like that of the rolling and resounding ocean. It It is itself, indeed, like "that immortal sea" of which it sings; and he who has access to it by memory has this advantage, that, wherever he may be, he

"Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore."

In after years, when sitting under the preaching of Dr. Harbaugh, at Lancaster, and, still later, when sitting under his instruction as Theological Professor, at Mercersburg, we became more fully aware what a strong hold this Ode of Wordsworth's had taken upon him. Many a sermon, as those who used to hear him at Lancaster will readily remember, and more than one lecture on Dogmatics, as those who heard these lectures can testify, bore witness to the strength of that influence. We remember how peculiar the effect was, and yet how perfectly natural and appropriate it seemed, when one of his Lectures on Dogmatics was illuminated with the light of Wordsworth's Ode. Poetry, it may be remarked by the way, was never far off when Dr. Harbaugh either preached or lectured. We do not mean that there was much of quotation, for there was comparatively little of that; but the constitutionally and strongly poetical spirit of the man pervaded and characterized all his teaching. And this was

one chief source of his strength and influence as a teacher. We very much tear that the Board of Visitors of AndoverTheological Seminary, who recently excluded Dr. Newman Smyth from the chair of Systematic Theology in that institution (to which he had been appointed by its Board of Trustees) because of its being his habit to conceive of truth "sentimentally and poetically rather than speculatively and philosophically," would, had they been sitting in judgment on Dr. Harbaugh, have felt themselves compelled to exclude him from his Professor's chair, for a similar reason. As if this very habit of apprehending and imparting truth "sentimentally and poetically" were not itself one of the distinguishing marks of a great teacher; as if the greatest teachers of men, from the days of the ancient prophets had not all of them taught largely in this way; as if, indeed, this were not the only way in which the knowledge of those truths which are greatest and highest can be imparted. Dr. Smyth may or may not combine "precision and definiteness of statement" with "poetical" apprehension of the truth; and the decision of the Board of Visitors seems to imply that the two are not compatible. But Dr. Harbaugh's teaching was certainly a remarkable instance of the successful combination of the poetical and the philosophical spirit. Somehow, at least, he contrived to teach a great deal of sound theology in a very poetical way.

Not to be drawn aside, however, into the discussion of this question (on which there would be much to say) we recur to Dr. Harbaugh's fondness, as evinced by the use he made of it in sermons and lectures, for this particular Ode of Wordsworth's. In this fondness there was something peculiar; it amounted almost to a passion. The poem was, so to speak, very closely akin to his own spirit. The great wealth of his nature in those profound and mystic instincts to which it makes its appeal, gave him, as it were, a constitutional and special affinity for it. Thus it resulted that on the one hand this sublime strain found nowhere, perhaps, a fitter auditor than it found in him; while he, on the other hand, rejoiced in it as a bird rejoices in the air or the Swiss in the Alps of his

native land. Of this rejoicing and ex-
ultation his very manner in quoting
from the poem give evidence; a noble
and impressive manner, of which we
have distinct recollection now, as, in
fancy, we still hear him repeating one
passage which he recited perhaps more
frequently than any other:

"Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home!
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy !

But he beholds the light and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;

The Youth, who daily farther from the East
Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
And by the vision splendid

Is on his way attended;

At length the Man perceives it die away
And fade into the light of common day."

nion." In that memorable interval,
in which " every chapter of the past was
gone over once more,
among other
things, "favorite poetry was read for the
last time." Several poems are named;
the first of them is Wordsworth's “ Ode
on Immortality. These are but seve-
ral instances, taken at random. out of the
great multitude that have fallen under
our notice. We question whether any
other poem has ever exercised an influ-
ence at once of so lofty a character and
of so wide an extent. One not inter-
ested and alert to be watching for the
signs of this influence, would hardly im-
agine how far reaching the ramifications
of it have been. We have come upon
it everywhere; not only in the way of
direct reference or quotation, but also in
many other indirect ways. It has often
happened that some phrase or expression,
unexpectedly met with, in some nook or
corner of our reading, has caused us
to start with surprise and delight and to
exclaim to ourselves, "Here, again, is
Wordsworth's Ode!" As a curious il-
lustration, coming conveniently to hand,
of the correctness of what we are now
saying, we may mention the circum-
stance that, whilst writing this paιa-
graph, we took up a freshly-received
copy of the New York Tribune, and
there, in the columns of a great newspa-
per, in which ordinarily one does not
expect to find other than political and
secular matters, behold, in the first edi-
torial on which our eyes fell, the spiri-
tual presence and glory of the Ode on
Immortality. How odd, and yet how
beautiful, it seemed there! But, not to
dwell further on this point, let us only
add to these unprofessional and popular
testimonies, the calm judgment of an
eminent critic and reviewer. Sir Thomas
Noon Talfourd, in reviewing the writings
of Wordsworth, says: "The Ode in which
Wordsworth particularly developed the
intimations of immortality to be found
the recollections of early childhood, is, to
our feelings, the noblest piece of lyric
poetry in the world.

In still later years, we became aware that, in his admiration of this Ode, Dr. Harbaugh was but one of a vast and noble company. As far as we may judge from our reading, this one poem seems to have gone like a "trailing cloud of glory," through all recent English literature. Wherever our reading has led us, at least in the higher realms of that literature, we have found the marks of its presence and influence. As regards the character of those minds which seem to have been most affected by it, we may give, as instances which occur to us at this moment of writing, the names of Dean Stanley, Dr. Thomas Arnold, Charles Kingsley, Frederick W. Robertson, Dr. Norman Macleod. What a passionate admiration the last named of these cherished for this ode of Wordsworth's is known to every reader of the interesting biography of that noble man. Robertson, whom Dean Stanley, in an article published not long since in the Century Magazine pronounces to be "be yond question, the greatest preacher of the nineteenth century," manifests the same feeling in many a passage in his sermons, letters and lectures. In the Life of Charles Kingsley there is a touching passage relating to the time when, in If we inquire, now, why this particconsequence of the illness of his wife, the ular poem has taken so strong a hold two, deeming their separation to be near at upon many of the noblest minds and hand (and indeed it was near at hand, hearts, we have not far to seek. Speakthough it came through his own death, ing in general terms, we may say the instead of hers,) dwelt "on the border-reason is this, that it addresses that which land together for weeks of deep commu- is deepest in us, that it makes its appeal

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utterance" in it. If anywhere there has been any utterance, in speech or song, which has laid deep hold on men, which men's hearts have leaped to hear, which they will not let die, but hold fast to and keep as an "everlasting possession ;" we think it may be shown to have been because of its giving voice to something deep in the human heart, which had needed, and had been earnestly, though perhaps unconsciously seeking for utterance. This principle is distinctly recognized, as far as regards Oratory, by the greatest of the Athenian orators, who, in his ora"the

rhetoricians, both ancient and modern. And it is due to the same law that a poem is great, and influential, and enduring, just in proportion to the depth and importance of that in the human spirit to which it succeeds in giving voice.

to the part of us which is immortal. No poem can be truly great and enduring, that is not, in some sense, addressed to the spiritual and immortal part of our being. Poetry that is concerned exclusively with that which is visible and temporal, is, of necessity, transient; it never gains a foothold for itself in the region in which the powers of persistent duration dwell. No thoughtful person can fail to feel the truth of what Wordsworth himself said, when, positively though reluctantly, he expressed his belief that, as a poet, Scott could not live. "As a poet," said he (we quote tion, De Corona, declares that from a conversation given in his Biogra- speaker's power depends for the most phy by Bishop Wordsworth) "Scott part on the hearers." The same imporcannot live, for he has never in verse tant truth is dwelt upon by all the written anything addressed to the immortal part of man. A sound inference from a sound principle! which gives us, indirectly, the very reason why so much power of living and enduring seems to be in the Poem of which we are writing. As distinguished from the poetry of Now, it is on this principle, the princiScott, one of the chief characteristics of ple of" deep calling unto deep," that the Wordsworth's poetry is its unworldliness, Ode on Immortality is great. It gives its spirituality, its being addressed to voice to those mysterious feelings which that in man which is immortal. This are among the deepest things with quality rises to its highest, as far as we which our souls have to do, and which, are able to judge, in the Ode on Immor- just because of their seeming to be untality; which is strong, influential and utterable, rejoice the more on finding enduring because it is addressed (and some measure of expression. It intermost solemnly and effectually addressed) prets for us those "high instincts," those to that which is deepest and strongest strange longings and aspirations, which in man; which gives promise of perpe- are the especial characteristic of our tuity; because, standing thus related, childhood, and which, whatever they there is something of the Perennial in it. may be, we are all of us more or less But to speak more particularly this conscious of, as the purest and noblest posOde is a conspicuous illustration of the session that has fallen to our inheritance principle that no great poem, or other in the life on earth. There is, in the production of human genius, is great sim- realm of our spiritual being, a far and ply and exclusively by virtue of what it mysterious region, in which dwell voices is in itself considered, but its greatness like those of the moaning sea, in which and power are the result of a conjunc- feelings are astir which strangely agitate tion and co-operation of forces. It is in and thrill us, whilst they oppress us at what it "gives voice" to; it is in the the same time with a sense of their un"chord" which it strikes; it is in the utterableness. And whatever Poem interior spiritual world which it succeeds stands, in any true sense, en rapport with in placing itself en rapport with; it is the powers of that region, whatever in these things, in good measure, and not strain of Bard or Seer gives utterance, merely in its own utterances, independ- in any measure, to the feelings, or interently taken, that the secret of its great-pretation to the voices that dwell there, ness lies. Every great Poem, or Oration, possesses, by virtue of that fact and in or other expression, is great on this prin- that measure, a peculiar charm and ciple; it is, to adopt an expression of power. It is something of this element Carlyle's with regard to another matter, that gives the secret charm to that "as if the Silences had at length found strange, sad song of Tennyson's.

:

"Break, Break, Break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea !"
and to that other song by the same
author,

"Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,"
as, also, to other well-known poems
which we might name. But in no other
poem, so far as we know, is utterance
and interpretation so nobly and so fully
given to the high instincts of this mys-
terious world within us,
as in the
sublime Ode on Immortality; of which,
accordingly, the chief strength and glory
lie, not in its solemn and majestic
rhythm, nor in any other quality it pos-
sesses considered simply and exclusively
as a poetical composition, but in the deep
things in which it gives voice, and in
the fact that it does give voice to them.

But for those obstinate questionings,
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings prove us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realized,
High instincts, before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble as a guilty Thing surprised;
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence; truths that wake,
To perish never;

Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor,
Nor Man, nor Boy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy !
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,

Hence, in a season of calm weather,
Though inland far we be,
Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea,
Which, brought us hither,

And see the Children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore."

Can in a moment travel thither,

OF THE REFORMED CHURCH.

BY THE EDITOR.

In beginning this article, it was our intention to make some endeavor in the course of it, to climb and explore, with the reader, this mountain-peak in the Land of Lyric Song. The length, however, to which the article has already grown, requires us to omit the undertak- BEGINNINGS ing of any such enterprise; an enterprise, withal, which may well have proved too venturesome a one for the writer's pen. We content ourselves with the hope that what we have written may serve to introduce some young person to the knowledge, and stimulate him to the study, of the great Poem which was first made known to us by the Editor, and in the pages, of this Magazine. Cherishing which hope, we may be permitted to close our article by giving the following extract from the Ode itself; a passage of which Talfourd, whom we have already quoted, says: "The following is the noblest passage of the whole; and such an outpouring of thought and feeling-such a piece of inspired philosophy-we do not believe exists, elsewhere in human language:"

"O joy that in our embers

Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers

What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction; not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest,
Delight and liberty, the sinful creed

Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,

No. VI.

The Martyrs.

The Reformed church has often been called "the church of the martyrs." It certainly deserves this honorable title, for no other denomination of Christians has had so many members who have sealed their faith with their blood. Its history abounds with examples of the most sublime heroism, and its continued existence, notwithstanding all the persecutions which it has endured, is an evident proof of its divine mission.

The trials of the Reformed church were in great degree, owing to its geographical location. In Switzerland it was, of course, almost from the beginning, strong enough to defend itself, and in Germany, though always in the minority, it was to some extent, protected by the terms of the treaty of Augsburg;'

*

*Among the most important of the German cities and principalities which passed over

With new-pledged hope still fluttering in his from the Lutheran to the Reformed church,

breast:-
:-

Not for these I raise

The song of thanks and praise;

after the Palatinate had led the way, we may mention Bremen (1581), Anhalt (1597), Baden (1599), and Hesse (1604). The elector of Brandenburg. John Sigismund, from whom

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