What an

ow we cling to old associations! illusive veil is cast over the past! Its evils, its pains, its imperfections are obscured! its pleasures, its advantages are invested with a charm, a radiancy, that never was theirs. The eye of the mind, like the eye of the body, is deceived by distance; and the blue mists that soften the harsh features of the landscape are a symbol of that indulgent medium through which we contemplate the things of bygone days.

I

Among my oldest of "pleasant memories" is the celebration of Easter Day. Long before I knew the meaning of the words, I used to think the Easter hymn the finest of poems, and its music, with its hallelujah chorus, the most inspiring of melodies. was ignorant of what there was truly to rejoice in: but it was holiday time, it was generally bright weather, and the young Spring began to smile in flowers and to carol in birds; thus faintly, though sweetly, pourtraying the glorious doctrine of the Resurrection.

66

Christ the Lord is risen to

But the Easter hymn, beginning day!" was what I meant to speak of. Whatever pleasures age has dimmed or damped, it has not only preserved to me, but greatly increased my enjoyment of that hymn. Indeed, the whole music of Easter Day, when I am in a congregation whose performances are neither too good nor too bad, affords me a holy pleasure, unequalled by the vocal worship on any other festival. I said neither too bad nor too good; now, though I would meekly bow to the arguments of its upholders, I always feel what is called "very fine music" (which is what I mean by too good) to be out of place in Divine worship.

"Beau ideals" are rarely realised; but my beau ideal of congregational music was once presented to me in a village congregation. There was a good harmonium, played by a lady in excellent time and

taste. The choir was composed of village children, whose behaviour was decorous, who indeed looked too much interested in what they were about to be guilty of levity. They sang well, in good time and tune, and pronounced the words distinctly; so that, without being able to read, or without having a book, it would have been quite possible to follow them. Children's voices are the sweetest kind of music when they are sweet. I was never happier than while following that modest choir; the help it gave raised the soul heavenwards, presenting no discordant hindrances nor harmonious distractions,

I inquired of the lady who led them, and who, I found, took great pains in instructing them, how she had managed so well in influencing them, remarking at the same time on their conduct, and the grave and thoughtful expression on their faces. She replied: "My great aim is to get at their hearts. I have one great object in view in all that I teach them: if they have fine voices, I tell them they are gifts from God, and it is a high privilege to be allowed to use them in his service. I am careful to teach them in the week, as far as I can, the meaning of the hymns they are to sing on Sunday, so that they may sing with understanding. I carefully guard against any appearance of 'showing them off,' or giving them an idea that they are separated from the harmonium in the minds of the congregation, or that their office is to interfere with their own personal worship; and I endeavour above all things to impress them with my own deep sense of the solemnity of the place and of what we are engaged in.”

Such a spirit would so improve the poorest choir, and so sober and solemnise the grandest, that, to my mind, it would be pleasant and profitable to worship with either. George Herbert, than whom, perhaps, there was never a more devout worshipper, was accustomed to walk from the little village of Bemerton into Salisbury, that he might attend the afternoon service in the cathedral; and so sweet was the solemn music to him that he declared his time spent in prayer and cathedral music elevated his soul, and was his heaven upon earth.

Blessed be God that though a sweet voice, a fine ear, and a musical power are among his precious gifts, it is possible to praise him in unison with angels without possessing them. I hope that in all the congregations that assemble this Easter, from the grandest cathedral to the poorest band of rustic worshippers, there will be found those whose hearts are in tune. Wherever I am, I shall think with a glow of inward satisfaction on my friend and her little choir, who will henceforth be inseparably connected in my mind with my favourite Easter hymn.