How do we acquire a correct knowledge of the opinions of the Fathers? Not by looking at quotations alone, but by analyzing their writings, by tracing out their trains of thought, by measuring the space which they devote to particular topics, by arranging together their favourite texts, by examining their references to tradition and the Church, as well as to Scripture, and by endeavouring to detect their sympathies and predilections; it is in the same way that I have endeavoured, not so well as I could wish, to read the Divines of the seventeenth century, and the result is such as the reader finds imperfectly stated in the pages of this volume.
What was indicated at the beginning of our survey may, in other words, be expressed at the close. In the Anglican teaching we find what is doctrinal, what is ethical, and what is emotional; we see the orthodox dogmas of Christianity, the indisputable morals of Christianity, and the spiritual experience of Christianity; but these are introduced in different proportions, the third less than the second, perhaps the second less than the first. Yet not in any of these do we detect the characteristic stamp of Anglican sentiment so much as in the belief of one catholic Church preserving this truth, inculcating this morality, and cultivating this experience, and in the idea of an organized unity, with its ministers, sacraments, and ordinances, receiving, enjoying, and dispensing God’s gifts of grace. In the Latitudinarian teaching, there is not much which can be called experimental, there is more of what is theological, but the principal feature is undoubtedly moral. Quakerism has its exposition of dogmas and its enforcement of duties; it has its creed and its forms as have other systems of Christianity; but it is in its mystical element that we discover the key to unlock the secrets of its power. Puritanism has its Church organizations, Presbyterian, and Independent,—it has its moral teaching, for it is decidedly practical, yet in neither of these do we reach its most prominent distinction. That consists both in its doctrinal zeal, and in its experimental tone, and in the last more than the first; for the dogmatical difference between John Goodwin[571] and Thomas Goodwin, between the Arminian and the Calvinist, seems lost when we ponder the fellowship of these souls in the same peculiar kind of emotional ardour, which glows with a coloured light, easily distinguishable from such fires as burn in Anglican, in Latitudinarian, or in Mystic lamps before the altar of the one God, in the one temple of His redeemed Church.
CHAPTER XXI.
Doctrinal, expository, and homiletic literatures exhibit the divergent theological opinions of Christian men; but psalms, hymns and spiritual songs reveal the sensibilities of the devout, as they converge towards the common centre of all religious trust and hope and love. More of unity is possible in the worship of praise than in any other kind of worship. What on one side is deemed superstition, what on another is regarded as sectarianism, may sometimes taint the expression of pious thought and feeling in verse; but an immense number of compositions in English hymnology are altogether free from defects of either of these kinds, and are fitted to convey, with propriety, the sentiments of people who differ widely from each other whenever they enter the region of polemics. Broad Church and Low Church, the Anglican, the Evangelical, and the Nonconformist, on some occasions find it easy to combine in the service of song, and to adopt with common joy and love, the same strains of sweetness and purity which form a consentaneous Cardiphonia, a blended utterance of many hearts.[572]
Before approaching the subject of hymnology proper, a few words may be introduced in relation to a kind of poetry which closely resembles it. It would be foreign to my purpose to say anything critical of the grand religious epics of John Milton, known by every one: they belong to the realms of imagination, and scarcely come, except in some of the songs which they include, within those precincts of Christian affection where the humble hymn-writer makes his home. Nor can I take up Joseph Beaumont’s Pysche or Love’s Mystery, displaying the intercourse betwixt Christ and the Soul, which was published in 1648, and is known by very few; since its length, extending to 40,000 lines, baffles all attempts at description, and its blending of Pagan fables with Bible facts, often takes it out of the circle of religious poetry altogether. Benlowes’ poem, entitled Theophila, or Love’s Sacrifice, published in 1652, is of a different character: his verses come more within the range of modern sympathies, whilst their quaintness of style leave no doubt as to the age in which they were written. Such compositions can scarcely be called devotional; but verses flowed from certain pens, at the time I speak of, which, although not meant for public or private worship, did very charmingly embody the aspirations of Christian men. Some of them, it is true, had a tinge of peculiarity, derived from ecclesiastical or theological preferences, but the general stamp of these compositions was such as to commend them to many outside the circle to which they particularly belonged. For instance: Richard Crashaw, a clergyman, who had been Master of the Temple, and who died in 1652, wrote An Ode prefixed to a Prayer Book, in which, imbued with an Anglican admiration of that volume, he beautifully says:—
POETRY.
“It is an armory of light,
Let constant use but keep it bright,
You’ll find it yields
To holy hands and humble hearts,