impelled to alter his methods in some particular or
other.

In previous volumes the author has been careful to give, for the most
part, carefully executed--that is to say, truthfully rendered
translations from the originals. Work of that kind is useful, and
absolutely necessary for certain purposes; but, unless for the
hymnologist, or for the liturgiologist, it is far from being attractive.
To be true, renderings can hardly be graceful, and they must lack much of
the literary charm which attaches itself to productions which are more
untrammelled. Hence, unless, as has been said, to the few who are
specialists, translations are not much in favour. They have earned a
reputation, and that reputation adheres to them: they are cold and
uninspiring. Such is their reputation, not always just, but who can say
that it has not, on the whole, been earned?

Perhaps it would be wrong to say that there is any prejudice against
translations from the Greek or any other language whatever, as such. The
reluctance to welcome translations is really reluctance to welcome poems
which do not find their way to the heart. For this reason there is
perhaps not more than a score of translations which have won their way
from permanent hymnals to a permanent place in the affections of our
devout fellow-countrymen. In this connection it is to be noted that we
speak of _translations_, and not of _suggestions_ such as, "Art thou
weary," or "O, happy band of pilgrims," and many others, which have
advanced into great favour, and are termed translations, but are not.

True hymns are sacred lyrics, and a lyric to be lyrical and heart
appealing, must be _inevitable_. It must be the spontaneous expression of
the heart of the author--an expression which _had_ to come. It is the
latent secret of the power of true hymns, for what _must_ be uttered will
assuredly, sooner or later, find its way to some heart. Such jets of
living poetry must be awaited: they cannot be forced. But a translator
must deliberately sit down at his desk and work--manufacture, if you
will--and endeavour to turn on the lathe of graceful culture, elegancies
which readers may admire, but will never feel.

Perhaps translators from the Greek have a singular temptation to eschew.
Hymns from the Offices have to be created in Greek, as has been pointed
out in a former Introduction, before they can be the source of living
poetic inspiration. No doubt the necessity of forming a cento is also t