n before His judgment-seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on."

EXPRESSION. The objects of art, as we have seen, are interesting
and attractive in themselves, for the material of
which they are formed, and for the form which the artist has
given them. But they are interesting in another and possibly
as important a way: they are instruments of expression.
That is, a painting is something more than an intrinsically
interesting disposition of line and color, a statue something
more than an exquisite or sublime chiseling of marble, a poem
more than a rhythmic combination of the music of words.
All of these are expressive. Something in their form is
associated with something in our past experience. Thus, as
James somewhere suggests, "a bare figure by Michelangelo,
with unduly flexed joints, may come somehow to suggest the
moral tragedy of life." Something in the face of an old man
painted by Rembrandt may recall to us a similar outward
evidence of inner seriousness, wistfulness, and resignation
which we have ourselves beheld in living people. And we
clearly value the poems of a Wordsworth, a Milton, a Matthew
Arnold, not solely for the magnificent form and music
of their words, but also for the sober beauty of their meaning.
We may come to appreciate even the highly immediate
sensuous and formal pleasure of music for the reverie or
rapture into which by suggestion it throws us. "Expression may,
therefore, make beautiful by suggestion, things in themselves
indifferent, or it may come to heighten the beauty which they
already possess."

The objects of art may be appreciated chiefly either for
their material and form, or for the values which they express.
In some cases the actual object may be beautiful; sometimes
the beauty may lie almost wholly in the image, emotion, or
idea evoked. "Home, Sweet Home," for example, may be
plausibly held to win admiration rather for the sentimental
associations which it evokes in the singer or hearer than for its
verbal or melodic beauty. The enjoyment which people without
any musical gifts, out on a camping or canoeing trip,
experience from singing a rather cheap and frayed repertory
is obviously for sentimental rather than for aesthetic satisfaction.
Similarly, we may cherish the mementos of a lost
friend or child, not for their intrinsic worth, but for the
tenderness of the memories they arouse. The situation is
delicately