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Reformation, but it is still as excellent garded one of the symbols of the church. as it was three hundred years ago. Even now it has lost none of its meaning.

The book concludes with the follow- No better rule than the old catechism ing series of divine precepts, teaching can yet be found by which to search the "how God's children should conduct Scriptures. themselves in their daily life :"


For I

1. Whatever you do, let it be done in order and at the proper time. am a God of order, saith the Lord; A translation of the Dies Ira of Thomas à all disorderly conduct comes from the devil and from sin.


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6. Be watchful in all things so that nothing may be lost by your heedlessness. Seek to renounce all things that appear to be evil, and as much as is possible atone for the evil which you have committed.


7. Be also interested in advancing the welfare of your neighbor, so that you may fulfill the commandment: Love thy neighbour as thyself! Summa: Whoever would be saved must deny himself. Whoever follows his own lusts casts himself into destruction. This is a brief summary of all Christian teaching." Like many other Reformed books of that period, Grandfather's catechism has on the title-page a picture of the city of Heidelberg, with an open Bible in the foreground. From a cloud above extends a hand holding a measuring-rule, pointing to the Bible. On a scroll are the words" Nach dieser Regel," and on the opposite pages of the Bible: "Suchet in der Schrift, John 5, 39." That is, "Ac-cording to this rule"-" Search the Scriptures. This vignette, it is well known, was so frequently used that the hand and rule almost came to be re



The fact that so many English translations of this famous medieval Latin hymn have appeared on both sides of the Atlantic, shows that its reproduction in our tongue is beset with peculiar difficulties, and the chief obstacle seems to lie in the triple, double-rhymed trochaic endings of the stanzas. As a rule, the metrical form of a lyric poem of high order is an essential element, which cannot be changed without loss to a greater or less extent. Hence, some of the translators of the Dies Irae have tried to preserve the exact metre of the original, and_the_two who have succeeded best are Dr. Irons of England, and Gen. Dix of America, whose version is contained in our Reformed Church Hymn-book. But their success is not complete, because the English language is notably poor in trochaic rhymes, and especially so when triplets are required. Even were it otherwise, the metre in English, although similar, is not just the same thing as in the Latin, nor does it produce the same impression. For these reasons, most of the translators have wisely, in my judgment, chosen a modified form of it, made catalectic by dropping the final syllable. Greater freedom is thus secured for the choice of words and rhymes, and the rhythmical flow, to the English ear, accords better with the directness, earnestness and solemn simplicity of the theme. After much study and a free use of the results obtained by those who have preceded me, I here offer a new version of the poem, which Dr. Schaff pronounces "the acknowledged master-piece of Latin poetry, and the most sublime of all uninspired hymns."

Day of Wrath! That awful day Shall the world in ashes lay, David and the Sibyl say.

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 vainNothing 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!


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



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

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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 para-
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

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 touch-poetry in the world." ing passage relating to the time when, in consequence of the illness of his wife, the two, deeming their separation to be near at hand (and indeed it was near at hand, though it came through his own death, instead of hers,) dwelt "on the borderland together for weeks of deep commu

If we inquire, now, why this particular poem has taken so strong a hold upon many of the noblest minds and hearts, we have not far to seek. Speaking in general terms, we may say the reason is this, that it addresses that which is deepest in us, that it makes its appeal

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to the part of us which is immortal. No utterance" in it. If anywhere there has poem can be truly great and enduring, been any utterance, in speech or song, that is not, in some sense, addressed to which has laid deep hold on men, which the spiritual and immortal part of our men's hearts have leaped to hear, which being. Poetry that is concerned exclu- they will not let die, but hold fast to sively with that which is visible and and keep as an "everlasting possession;" temporal, is, of necessity, transient; it we think it may be shown to have been never gains a foothold for itself in the because of its giving voice to something region in which the powers of persistent deep in the human heart, which had needduration dwell. No thoughtful person ed, and had been earnestly, though percan fail to feel the truth of what Words- haps unconsciously seeking for utterance. worth himself said, when, positively This principle is distinctly recognized, though reluctantly, he expressed his as far as regards Oratory, by the greatest belief that, as a poet, Scott could not of the Athenian orators, who, in his oralive. "As a poet," said he (we quote tion, De Corona, declares that "the 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 immor- rhetoricians, both ancient and tal part of man. A sound inference And it is due to the same law that a from a sound principle! which gives us, poem is great, and influential, and enindirectly, the very reason why so much during, just in proportion to the depth power of living and enduring seems to and importance of that in the human be in the Poem of which we are writing. spirit to which it succeeds in giving voice. 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 conscious of, as the purest and noblest possession that has fallen to our inheritance in the life on earth. There is, in the realm of our spiritual being, a far and mysterious region, in which dwell voices like those of the moaning sea, in which feelings are astir which strangely agitate and thrill us, whilst they oppress us at the same time with a sense of their unutterableness. And whatever Poem stands, in any true sense, en rapport with the powers of that region, whatever strain of Bard or Seer gives utterance,


But to speak more particularly this Ode is a conspicuous illustration of the principle that no great poem, or other production of human genius, is great simply and exclusively by virtue of what it is in itself considered, but its greatness and power are the result of a conjunction and co-operation of forces. It is in what it "gives voice" to; it is in the "chord which it strikes; it is in the interior spiritual world which it succeeds in placing itself en rapport with; it is in these things, in good measure, and not 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.

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