The Press. — London, England, 1855-07-14 00:00:00

Nittraturt. The Sanctuary. A Companion in Verse for the English Prayer-book. By Robert Mont gomery, M.A. London: Chapman and Hall. FROX philosophical treatises written profes sedly in the interest of Christianity, yet which have, we fear, a tendency, from their specula tive license, to darken knowledge and perplex faith, we willingly turn to direct attention to this little manual of devotion, which is prac tical in the best sense, as it raises the soul to communion with God in Christ. Mr. Montgomery has not sought to paraphrase the Prayer-book—which would have been futile — but to reflect in short poems the spiritual sentiment, and the holy ardour, which the several parts of our Church services are calculated to excite in the mind. He has happily seized for his texts on the most striking passages in the Prayer-hook, and has illustrated them in his verse with a fervour which never tires and never falls below his themes His starting-point is earth, and his goal is heaven. Whatever mood his verse reflects, whether it be meditative or descrip tive, whether it throb with prayer or ring with praise, this is common to it at all times— that it soars on a wing of earnest piety, and it seems to us impossible for a mind of ordinary sensibility to remain unaffected by its impassioned expression. It is this quality which, as it appears to us, renders Mr. Montgomery's poetry so pecu liarly suitable for the young, whose natures are yet in course of formation, and likely to be attracted and influenced by compositions which combine religious fervour with poetic impulse and accomplishment. The critic accustomed to favorite models of poetry, and used by profession to scan closely whatever falls beneath his eye, may detect in Mr Montgomery's verse phrases which offend his fastidious ear; but tho young, svho read less with the eye than the heart, who cannot help sympathisinr* with strong feeling of every kind, and who aro fascinated by enthusiasm, will find in this volume, " The Sanctuary," exactly that kind of composition best calcu lated to light or to fun the fire of Christian devotion iu their breasts. Mr. Montgomery has had some reason in his time to complain of harsh eritiscism. His first poem, the "Omnipresence," was published when he was not more than nineteen, we believe ; and though youth is no excuse for bad poetry, yet it may fairly he pleaded in extenuation of minor blemishes and imper fections. Like most men of original talent, Mr. Montgomery has a manner of his own, end nothing is easier than for an ill-natured critic to represent certain peculiarities of that manner as the substance of the author's genius, when in truth they are but its crust, or rather its scales, which, though obnoxious to some persons, render it more sparkling in the eyes of others. There are phrases even in this volume, at once the most polished and fervid Mr. Montgomery has over produced, which do not please our ear. We do not like such compounds as " myriad-chorded soul," or " priosted-God- Man," nor such phrases as the " golden elo quence of Heaven." It seems to us very Puestionable in point of taste to term the salmist the " Laureate of the Holy Ghost," and to speak of St. Thomas as a " laurelled memory." There is an image in the poem on " Nana Dimittis" which seems to us singu larly inappropriate : Brimin'a liko a wine•cup, full and flowing, The gladilenecl-spirit, brightly-glowing, In " Nunc Dimittis" over-ran. Occasionally there seems to us obscurity in the sentiment, as in the closing stanzas of his prefatory poem, and we could often wish that the author's expression were less ornate and unusual than it is. We indicate blemishes of this kind, as they appear to us, in no un friendly spirit, but with the view of inducing the author to extend to this volume the thorough revision which he has bestowed on lAis other works. Ridigious poetry .pan never, like religious umlau t 109 too chaste and severe in its tone. In THE PRESS. this volume we are most pleased with those pieces which are most simple in expression. The following is admirable, and alone would justify us in placing Mr. Montgomery high in the rank of religious poets : FOB PUBLIC PEACE AT HOBE. " Heavenly Father, who alone makest men to be of one mind In a house."—Prayer-book. When Jean walk'd the midnight•waves That foam'd and fissh'd in lightning•glare, Or, darken'd like devouring graves On sea and shipmen, tossing there, • Nature obey'd her present God, And crouch'd beneath His calming Eye, As though she felt the feet which trod, Belong'd to Him, who rules the sky ! But storms arise, of deeper swell, And tempests of a darker sway, Which in our mortal bosom dwell By Law, nor Reason, lull'd away. Passion, and Pride, and lust and sin, With stern emotions, fierce, or wild, All, in mad discord, mud within, — How often have they man defiled ! And who, but He, Whose word aril will The storms of Nature'► realm control, Can say to spirits—Peace ! be still ! And calm thee down, tempestuous soul? Men wonder, how the Ark contain'd In perfect concord, brute and bird, Under a ruling spell restrain'd, And not in war and wildness stirr'd. And yet, a miracle we find Of higher range and holier law, — When home is one harmonious wind, By love becalm'd and Christian awe. All hateful tempests of the heart, Which blacken there, with turbid gloom, Sooth'd by The Saviour, thence depart, And smiles of peace their reign resume. The soul is hush'd beneath the balm Till Heaven seems mirror'd by its rest, As moonlight, when the waves are calm, Lies tranced upon the ocean's breast. It shows the facility of the author that of the numerous pieces in this volume there are scarcely two in the same metro. The accom paniment to the " Cantate " has a mediaeval flow very appropriate to the theme : Pilgrims in a world of pain, While we suffer, still we reign: Through a wilderness of woe Onward as our marches go, Oft may heave the inward sigh, Sadly droop the sunken eye, Haunting grief and harrowing care Circle round us, everywhere,— Yet, in Heaven we have a King, And beneath His banner sing Jubilate ! Jubilate ! Lift we, then, our lyric song Full and fervent, loud and long : Hallelujah! Lord on high For the gotten victory.— Music is a gift divine Dedicate to Thee, and Thine; Organ, trump, and raptured lire, Let Thy Glories now inspire, Till our diapason blend Far as Earth and Man extend, • Jubilate! Jubilate! •• • • • • Children of the Cross are we, Shout we, hence, our Jubilee : Time may frown, and Flesh may fear; Oft descend the heart-drawn tear; Hopes depart, and homes decay; All fond Edens fade away ; Sickness, anguish, grief, and pain Over hearth and licusehold reign, But the Church will ever sing Lands to Her celebtial King,— Jubilate! Jubilate ! . We extract one more example of Mr. Mont gomery's simplest style, the verses from an accompaniment to the prayer for plenty : While the breezy woodland sing And the ripen'd corn-fields bring Bending harvests, rich and rare, Seek we Lord, the Shrine of prayer. What lit Growth, in fruit, or field, All which golden summers yield,— But indeed a sacred Birth Preaching God through all the earth ! • • • • • • To the Giver in His gilt Lauding worship thus we lift, — Looking through each veil that lies On each charm thy grace supplies. Let our roaring hearts ascend, And their anthem'd praises blend With Heaven's orchestra on high, Echo'd through eternity ! Might the vast creation feel What Thy words to us reveal, Matter then, as well as Mind, Would adore Thee, with mankind. SATURDAY ; Living Christ of holy love ! Waft pure wisdom from above, Faith, and feeling,—all which can Raise and rescue sunken Man. Lost in self, but saved in Thee, Let our bright'ning spirits be Ever growing, more and more, Like the Lord Whom they adore. Other pieces are more distinguished for thoughtful sentiment. The subjoined verses are from those on St. Andrew's Day : The world knows least its g►eatest men, Their records are on high, But where they or, how and when They laid them down to die, Rests oft couceal'd from that recording fame Blind earth•gods call the glory of a name. Lord of our souls I by this we find "ris not through outward fame The moral saviours of mankind Eternalise their name ; Since oft in secrecy of love retir'd, For Heaven they tail, by Heaven alone inspired. Ncr may we mourn because our God Thus for high worth decreed, That Minds who most this way have trod And lessen'd mortal need Should often vanish into fameless gloom,— Unheard their country, and unknown their tomb. But rather let disciples learn To conquer self and siu ; And thus a higher law discern By which our souls begin To work like angels, who iu secret move On countless errands of celestial Love. It would be easy to cull front the volume a selection of choice thoughts. We quote a few of those we pencilled as we read : They live the best, who love the most, And count that day a sinful boast In which no care, or cross hath shown tiod rules the will, and reigns alone. Nature is one mysterious plan That moves in sympathy with Man ; Her scenes are parables to thought, With types of teaching wisdom fraught. Priceless and peerless hold we, then, 2'ha€ page Messiah lolled to read ; For, long as earth has Baffling men The Psalms reply to human need. The next is in the spirit of Butler's A nalogy ": Nature seems Athanasian oft, — Her guarded ways are most severe : To earth below or skies aloft, What fencing laws define her sphere? Infringe but these,—and they resent, And make Mau know his element. There are many beautiful passages on the influence exerted over man's spirit by the grave. We can take but one : Why are the dead, so mighty when no more, Touch'd with a charm no words can tell, When their deep voices from th Eternal Shore Come wafted with an inward-spell? Perchance, they rule us by that mystic law Which acts within their world of calm, And gently soothe with sanctifying awe The Hearts that need suck holy balm ? The volume, as may be supposed, abounds with poetic images. The following is one of the most striking in English poetry. It is from the poem on the " Burial of the Dead " Oh! gently lay her where the yew•trees wave lii tender darkness o'er some grassy tomb, And sunbeams learn the language of the grace Tinging their brightness with a softeit'd gloom. Tastes are so various that the simple pas sages we have quoted will seem to some not the happiest specimens which might be selected from this volume of Mr. Mont gomery's poetic power. But we rather wished to exhibit its practical piety and devotional aspiration, as these qualities are the animating spirit of the book, and breathe and burn in every page. Devotional poetry of a high order is so rare that a volume like the " Sanc tuary," which must, from the thought it em bodies, have been the labour of years, deserves a warm welcome from all who can appreciate chaste and holy sentiment cast into the mould of sweet, and, what frequently appears to our ear, seraphic verse. A Pilgrimage to El Medinah and Meccah. By Richard F. Burton, Lieutenant Bombay Army. Vols. I. and IT. London : Long- mans: LIEUTENANT BURTON'S book would be welcome if only from the novelty of its subject The digunaltiee: o*nd by tie aitivel to any WWI I 668 '4