Such is the tendency and process of religious development, under the promptings of our mixed mysterious nature. The simple, yet transforming character of the Gospel is soon lost sight of; while the spiritual pride of the minister is flattered by the exercise of priestly functions, and the latent superstition of the worshipper is stimulated by symbols of awe and mystery. And thus it comes to pass that the moral influences of public worship are lost in the aesthetical enjoyment of its scene and services, adapted as they are to soothe and captivate the senses of the worshipper-to please his imagination rather than to touch his heart.

It will be necessary to come to matters of detail before any practical cautions can be suggested against this showy besetBut there is one peculiar service in the English Church which claims to be considered by itself; and it will tend to clear our way if we dispose of it at once.

The service of our cathedral churches is quite of an exceptional type. Nothing can be more remote from the character of ordinary Christian worship, as will readily appear, if we bear in mind and bring in contrast, what we must suppose to have been the very simple practice of the primitive Church. One leading feature is sufficient to insure its condemnation. The intoning of the solemn prayers by the officiating clergyman is a mummery of the grossest kind; and if the examples of the Jewish Church be pleaded, we can only say that David dancing before the ark of the Lord is as appropriate as a model for the Christian priest. But there is nothing lyrical or choral in the character of the prayers to which we now refer; and the mockery in question is actually extended to the Lord's Prayer and the Creed itself. Of this ecclesiastical performance there is indeed a parallel, but no analogy of a warrantable kind. The singing of religious prayers may possibly be defended on the same ground as secular dramatic music. Some persons, indeed, have protested against the musical recitative of the Italian Opera, because, as they affirm, a serious dialogue cannot be sung or chaunted without a sense of incongruity or absurdity. But this objection cannot be sustained. An acted drama may be pitched in musical tone, as allowably as a written one may be cast in

measured poetry. It is no more natural for Samson to talk in pure blank verse, than for Polyphemus to rave through all the lower scale. In either case, the tone of language is raised by the force of imagination; this force is first communicated by the artist to his work, and from the work it passes on to the sympathizing audience,-the mind readily accepting the unusual medium of ideas as proper to its exalted state. It is only on this principle that a musical Church service can be duly appreciated: it is only as a relic of religious mediæval art that it can either be defended or condemned. Yet, so long as it is regularly performed, it will naturally be mistaken for an act of public worship: those who join in it under this persuasion will be grievously misled, and those who incidentally visit it shocked and repelled. The modern Oratorio is far less exceptionable. Its utmost pretension is to the rank of sacred music; and if the vaulted arches of our cathedrals are to resound with lofty praise, nothing better can be devised than the oratorios and anthems of the great composers. Better sound music based on sacred themes than all the mummeries of religious art in the place of Christian worship. Such music can bring no desecration on our noblest churches; only let its character and object be distinctly recognised; and when a Christian people assembles for edification in Christian truth, in accordance with Divine injunction, let all such æsthetic luxuries be dispensed with, and the ends of true worship kept in view.

On turning to the more ordinary services of the Church, and especially those in which the rubrical directions are strictly observed, it must be owned that the devotional spirit is by no means wanting. But here the question of aesthetic tendencies becomes complicated by the influence of doctrinal theories. Into the legitimate character of those theories we shall make no inquiry. Our present view embraces the whole of Protestant England; no peculiarities of a section of the Established Church ought now to hinder or divert us; and we shall assume that the practice of symbolism, and the theory of necessary sacramental efficacy, are virtually renounced by the reformed Churches of this country as figments of Popery and relics of superstition. Where any

such elements are detected, we shall judge them to be selfcondemned; and when we find them to be fostered and sustained by any of those observances which soothe the cultivated senses, we shall have no hesitation in pronouncing those observances to be dangerous and unlawful.

It is well known that some of the most costly ecclesiastical structures of the present day have sprung from the zeal and liberality of Romanizing churchmen. Yet it is not by sumptuous decorations that the modern Anglican edifice is usually distinguished from the old parish church. It is oftener marked by extreme plainness of material and design, as though the starved and ascetic principle of Romanism had here prevailed over its more worldly system of popular attractions. What is really and invariably characteristic of these churches is a certain structural arrangement providing for the ecclesiastical service. Instead of the Lord's table, simple and accessible, an imposing altar-place is embayed in a deep recess; for plain white linen is substituted an embroidered altar-cloth, adorned with the symbol of coronet or cross; and within the sacred enclosure young choristers and supernumerary priests abound. The visitor accustomed to a simpler form of worship at once observes that the whole building is contrived for effect. It is the edifice which first impresses him, and not the assemblage of worshippers, who are probably collected in a brief space in choir or transept, and seem to be observing some local and mysterious rites. He looks up with awe, and around with solemnity, and treads softly on the cold blank pavement as he approaches the place of service. If it be a private Anglican church instead of a cathedral, he already sees the altar, railed off from vulgar footsteps; but within the sacred enclosure some half dozen priests and acolytes take part in a muttered service, some portions of which are chanted, and the rest delivered in a subdued and nasal recitative. Apart from all matters of taste the stranger remarks, that some of the observances are equally condemned by true reverence and common sense. Such is the reading of the Epistle by the clergyman, while his face is turned to the altar, and his back to the congregation. This is simply a mockery of worship, which no custom or tradition

or implied significance can make other than odious to men of sound religious minds. Similar is the practice of turning to the east, of bowing to the altar, and of making reverence each time the name of Jesus is pronounced. Some of these observances, and especially the last-named, have their rise in devout feelings, and are practised by men of general moderation; but they can only be defended on principles which would go far to justify or excuse the worst of Popish mummeries.

Nothing is more notable in Anglican Church worship than the contrast afforded by change from the ritual to the scriptural portions of the service. The turning, and bowing, and recitative become thoroughly self-exposed and condemned, when the clergyman reads from the desk the lessons of the day-some chapter of the gospel full of moral beauty and simplicity, or some apostolic injunction to a life of inward faith and holiness. It is then that the casual worshipper remembers the claim to primitive Church custom so frequently put forward, while all he sees before and around him is in striking contrast to the practice of the early Church. He wonders whether the first Christians had any notion of ecclesiastical furniture; and then, the only allusion of the kind which his knowledge of Scripture supplies, occurs in reference to idolatry; namely, the manufacture of silver shrines for the votaries of Diana of Ephesus. Yes, all the trade in church furniture and finery was engrossed by Demetrius, and subserved the pagan goddess.

When all is done that art and symbolism can do, the result is pitifully small. Even in point of effect the Anglican Church service will not compare with the simpler but severer order of Presbyterian or Congregational worship. In these the solemnity is of a moral and spiritual kind. The homely psalm or hymn, the simple inartistic music, the fresh and unpremeditated prayer, have all a tendency to touch the heart and cherish a devotional spirit; and when the mind is thoroughly attuned by thanksgiving and supplication, the homily of Christian truth is delivered from the same zealous lips, in simple continuation, and with suitable and complete effect. Here the integrity of worship is never once disturbed :

there is no painful evidence of two or three services pressed into one; no fourfold repetition of a single prayer; no passing of the priest from altar to lectern, and from lectern to pulpit; no change of vestments, and no variety of postures. The unity of interest favours the concentration and the growth of religious feeling; and the people learn to worship God without distraction. This is the prevailing character of all the purer types of Protestant Christianity; and taking even the extreme examples of the Moravian and the Plymouth Brethren, we may safely affirm that primitive and apostolic custom is more closely followed by these unsophisticated Churches, than by all the ecclesiastical pomp and ceremony which pretend to come down to us from the earliest times.

So much for those ecclesiastical opinions which influence the conduct of religious worship, and overlay at once its simplicity and its life. They all have their root in a fixed desire to revive the sacrificial priesthood—a sacred order privileged to go in and out between God and man; and they all derive sustenance and strength from that natural craving after a mere ceremonial duty which seeks to pacify the conscience without a painful subjugation of the heart and will. It would be impossible that these irrelevant observances should grow out of a just appreciation of the gospel ministry, and of its one great object to proclaim the necessity of repentance, faith, and holiness.

But when all is said of the materializing tendency of Anglican principles, the aesthetics of Church worship will still remain unsettled-will remain, in fact, a question of degree. While the necessity for order exists, and different tastes and temperaments exert their natural influence, there will always be scope for both in the sphere of sacred music and architecture. Expedience will most successfully put forth its plea; but over and above this prime consideration there will always be found a point on which respective merits and advantages will be determined by the rule of taste.

There is no true

First, then, in respect of architecture. ecclesiastical style in the sense of one universally appropriate. Nor is it the religious purpose which determines the most