ove harmonious numbers, and give birth,
if genius as well as piety be there, to religious poetry. Cadences and
epithets are indeed often sought for with care, and pains, and
ingenuity; but they often come unsought; and never more certainly and
more easily than when the mind recovers itself from some oppressive
mood, and, along with a certain sublime sadness, is restored to the full
possession of powers that had for a short severe season been
overwhelmed, but afterwards look back, in very inspiration, on the
feelings that during their height were nearly unendurable, and then
unfit for any outward and palpable form. The criminal trembling at the
bar of an earthly tribunal, and with remorse and repentance receiving
his doom, might, in like manner, be wholly unable to set his emotions to
the measures of speech; but when recovered from the shock by pardon, or
reprieve, or submission, is there any reason why he should not calmly
recall the miseries and the prostration of spirit attendant on that
hour, and give them touching and pathetic expression?

"Supplication to man may diffuse itself through many topics of
persuasion; but supplication to God can only cry for mercy." And in that
cry we say that there may be poetry; for the God of Mercy suffers his
creatures to approach his throne in supplication, with words which they
have learned when supplicating one another; and the feeling of being
forgiven, which we are graciously permitted to believe may follow
supplication, and spring from it, may vent itself in many various and
most affecting forms of speech. Men will supplicate God in many other
words besides those of doubt and of despair; hope will mingle with
prayer; and hope, as it glows, and burns, and expands, will speak in
poetry--else poetry there is none proceeding from any of our most sacred
passions.

Dr Johnson says, "Of sentiments purely religious, it will be found that
the most simple expression is the most sublime. Poetry loses its lustre
and its power, because it is applied to the decoration of something more
excellent than itself." Here he had in his mind the most false notions
of poetry, which he had evidently imagined to be an art despising
simplicity--whereas simplicity is its very soul. Simple expression, he
truly says, is in religion most sublime--and why should not poetry be
simple in its expression? Is it not always so--when the mood of mind it
expresses is simple, concise, and strong, and collected into o