judge of my affliction now! But I look towards Him who struck me! I see the hand of a father, amidst the chastenings of my God! Oh! could I make you feel what it is to pour out the heart, when it is pressed down with many sorrows! to pour it out, with confidence, to Him in whose hands are life and death! on whose power awaits all that the former enjoys, and in contemplation of whom disappears all that the latter can inflict !-For we are not as those who die without hope! We know that our Redeemer liveth !—

'Go, then: mourn not for me! I have not lost my child! But a little while, and we shall meet again, never to be separated!'

'Slow Movement.'

This style is exemplified in the ordinary forms of solemn and pathetic language, in description, narration, and sentiment. It pervades the elocution of the more impressive passages of Scripture, generally, of most hymns, and of all discourses adapted to the excitement of profound emotion.

The main object of practice in this mode of voice, is to preserve it from a lagging, drawling, formal, or heavy effect, on the one hand, and from a tone too dry and unimpressive, on the other.

Solemnity.

Extract from the Thanatopsis.-Bryant.

'All that tread

The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.-Take the wings
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound
Save his own dashings ;-yet-the dead are there;
And millions in those solitudes, since first

The flight of years began, have laid them down
To their last sleep:-the dead reign there alone.-
So shalt thou rest;-and what if thou withdraw

Unheeded by the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will share
His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come:
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,

The youth, in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
The bowed with age, the infant, in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off,—
Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side
By those who, in their turn, shall follow them.
'So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed.
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.?

Solemnity and Sublimity.

Extract from the Hymn of the Seasons.-Thomson.

Nature, attend! join, every living soul:
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky,

In adoration join; and, ardent, raise

One general song! To Him, ye vocal gales,
Breathe soft; whose Spirit in your freshness breathes :

Oh! talk of Him in solitary glooms,

Where o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine

Fills the brown shade with a religious awe.

And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,

Who shake the astonished world, lift high to heaven
The impetuous song, and say from whom you rage.
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me catch it, as I muse along.

Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound;
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,

Sound His stupendous praise; whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.

Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him; whose sun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.
Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to Him;
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams,
Ye constellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.
Great source of day! best image, here below,
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,

From world to world, the vital ocean round;
On nature write with every beam His praise.
The thunder rolls: be hushed the prostrate world;
While cloud to cloud repeats the solemn hymn.'

Solemnity and Tranquillity.

The Antidote to Adversity.-Wordsworth.

'One adequate support

For the calamities of mortal life
Exists, one only;-an assured belief
That the procession of our fate, howe'er
Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being
Of infinite benevolence and power,
Whose everlasting purposes embrace

All accidents, converting them to Good.

'The darts of anguish fix not where the seat Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified By acquiescence in the Will Supreme, For Time and for Eternity; by faith, Faith absolute in God, including hope, And the defence that lies in boundless love Of his perfections; with habitual dread Of aught unworthily conceived, endured Impatiently, ill-done, or left undone, To the dishonour of His holy name.

'Soul of our souls, and safeguard of the world! Sustain, Thou only canst, the sick of heart; Restore their languid spirits, and recall Their lost affections unto Thee and Thine !'

Pathos.

Extract from Kirk White's 'Prospect of Death. Sad solitary Thought! who keep'st thy vigils, Thy solemn vigils, in the sick man's mind; Communing lonely with his sinking soul, And musing on the dubious glooms that lie In dim obscurity before him,-thee Wrapt in thy dark magnificence, I call At this still midnight hour, this awful season, When on my bed in wakeful restlessness, I turn me wearisome; while, all around, All, all, save me, sink in forgetfulness; I only wake to watch the sickly taper Which lights me to my tomb.-Yes 'tis the hand Of Death I feel press heavy on my vitals, Slow-sapping the warm current of existence. My moments now are few,-the sand of life Ebbs swiftly to its finish.-Yet a little, And the last fleeting particle will fall, Silent, unseen, unnoticed, unlamented.—

' On my grassy grave

The men of future times will careless tread,
And read my name upon the sculptured stone;
Nor will the sound, familiar to their ears,
Recall my vanished memory.'

Solemnity, Sublimity, and Awe.

Extract from Job, XXVI.

V. 4. To whom hast thou uttered words? and whose spirit came from thee? 5. Dead things are formed from under the waters, and the inhabitants thereof. 6. Hell is naked before him, and destruction hath no covering. 7. He stretcheth out the north over the empty place, and hangeth the earth upon nothing. 8. He bindeth up the waters in his thick clouds; and the cloud is not rent under them. 9. He holdeth back the face of his throne, and spreadeth his cloud upon it. 10. He hath compassed the waters with bounds, until the day and night come to an end. 11. The pillars of heaven tremble, and are astonished at his reproof. 12. He divideth the sea with his power; and by his understanding he smiteth through the proud. 13. By his spirit he hath garnished the heavens ; his hand hath formed the crooked serpent. 14. Lo! these are parts of his ways; but how little a portion is heard of him! But the thunder of his power who can understand ? ̧

Pathos.

Extract from Lamentations, V.

V. 15. The joy of our heart is ceased: our dance is turned into mourning. 16. The crown is fallen from our head: wo unto us that we have sinned! 17. For this our heart is faint; for these things our eyes are dim. 18. Because of the mountain of Zion, which is desolate: the foxes walk upon it. 19. Thou, O Lord, remainest forever; thy throne from generation to generation. 20. Wherefore dost thou forget us for ever, and forsake us so long time? 21. Turn thou us unto thee, O Lord, and we shall be turned; renew our days as of old.'