n of our fallen spirits
may be too divine for any words. Then the creature kneels mute before
his Maker. But are there not other states of mind in which we feel
ourselves drawn near to God, when there is no such awful speechlessness
laid upon us--but when, on the contrary, our tongues are loosened, and
the heart that burns within will speak? Will speak, perhaps, in song--in
the inspiration of our piety breathing forth hymns and psalms--poetry
indeed--if there be poetry on this earth? Why may we not say that the
spirits of just men made perfect--almost perfect, by such visitations
from heaven--will break forth--"rapt, inspired," into poetry which may
be called holy, sacred, divine?

We feel as if treading on forbidden ground--and therefore speak
reverently; but still we do not fear to say, that between that highest
state of contemplative piety which must be mute, down to that lowest
state of the same feeling which evanishes and blends into mere human
emotion as between creature and creature, there are infinite degrees of
emotion which may be all embodied, without offence, in words--and if so
embodied, with sincerity and humility, will be poetry, and poetry too of
the most beautiful and affecting kind.

"Man, admitted to implore the mercy of his Creator, and plead the merits
of his Redeemer, is already in a higher state than poetry can confer."
Most true, indeed. But, though poetry did not confer that higher state,
poetry may nevertheless, in some measure and to some degree, breathe
audibly some of the emotions which constitute its blessedness; poetry
may even help the soul to ascend to those celestial heights; because
poetry may prepare it, and dispose it to expand itself, and open itself
out to the highest and holiest influences of religion; for poetry there
may be inspired directly from the word of God, using the language and
strong in the spirit of that word--unexistent but for the Old and the
New Testament.

We agree with Mr Montgomery, that the sum of Dr Johnson's argument
amounts to this--that contemplative piety, or the intercourse between
God and the human soul, _cannot be poetical_. But here we at once ask
ourselves, what does he mean by poetical? "The essence of poetry," he
says, "is invention--such invention as, by producing something
unexpected, surprises and delights." Here, again, there is confusion and
sophistry. There is much high and noble poetry of which invention, such
invention as is here spoken of