Jesus and his disciples sang. Paul and
Silas sang; and so did the post-apostolic Christians; but until towards
the close of the 16th century there were no instruments allowed in
religious worship.

St. Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers has been called "the father of Christian
hymnology." About the middle of the 4th century he regulated the
ecclesiastical song-service, wrote chant music (to Scripture words or
his own) and prescribed its place and use in his choirs. He died A.D.
368. In the Church calendars, Jan. 13th (following "Twelfth Night"), is
still kept as "St. Hilary's Day" in the Church of England, and Jan. 14th
in the Church of Rome.

St. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, a few years later, improved the work of
his predecessor, adding words and music of his own. The "Ambrosian
Chant" was the antiphonal plain-song arranged and systematized to
statelier effect in choral symphony. Ambrose died A.D. 397.

Toward the end of the 6th century Christian music showed a decline in
consequence of impatient meddling with the slow canonical psalmody, and
"reformers" had impaired its solemnity by introducing fanciful
embellishments. Gregory the Great (Pope of Rome, 590-604) banished these
from the song service, founded a school of sacred melody, composed new
chants and established the distinctive character of ecclesiastical hymn
worship. The Gregorian chant--on the diatonic eight sounds and seven
syllables of equal length--continued, with its majestic choral step, to
be the basis of cathedral music for a thousand years. In the meantime
(930) Hucbald, the Flanders monk, invented _sight_ music, or written
notes--happily called the art of "hearing with the eyes and seeing with
the ears"; and Guido Arentino (1024) contrived the present scale, or the
"hexachord" on which the present scale was perfected.

In this long interval, however, the "established" system of hymn service
did not escape the intrusion of inevitable novelties that crept in with
the change of popular taste. Unrhythmical singing could not always hold
its own; and when polyphonic music came into public favor, secular airs
gradually found their way into the choirs. Legatos, with their pleasing
turn and glide, caught the ear of the multitude. Tripping allegrettos
sounded sweeter to the vulgar sense than the old largos of Pope Gregory
the Great.

The guardians of the ancient order took alarm. One can imagine the
pained amazement of conservative souls today on hearing "Ring the