rtin Luther." It matters little, however, the exact
year in which the sturdy old Reformer wrote the hymn which has stirred
the human heart more than any other. It is indissolubly connected with
his name, and every line of it is a reflex of his indomitable and
God-fearing nature. Heine and Carlyle have paid it noble tributes. The
German poet says:--

"The hymn which he composed on his way to Worms,[8] and which he and
his companions chanted as they entered that city, is a regular
war-song. The old cathedral trembled when it heard these novel sounds.
The very rooks flew from their nests in the towers. That hymn, the
Marseillaise of the Reformation, has preserved to this day its potent
spell over German hearts."

Carlyle still more forcibly says:--

"With words he had now learned to make music; it was by deeds of love
or heroic valor that he spoke freely. Nevertheless, though in imperfect
articulation, the same voice, if we listen well, is to be heard also in
his writings, in his poems. The one entitled 'Ein' feste Burg,'
universally regarded as the best, jars upon our ears; yet there is
something in it like the sound of Alpine avalanches, or the first
murmur of earthquakes, in the very vastness of which dissonance a
higher unison is revealed to us. Luther wrote this song in times of
blackest threatenings, which, however, could in no sense become a time
of despair. In these tones, rugged and broken as they are, do we hear
the accents of that summoned man, who answered his friends' warning not
to enter Worms, in this wise: 'Were there as many devils in Worms as
these tile roofs, I would on.'"

It was the battle-song of the Reformation, stirring men to valiant deeds;
and it did equal service in sustaining and consoling the Reformers in
their darkest hours. "Come, Philip, let us sing the Forty-sixth Psalm,"
was Luther's customary greeting to Melanchthon, when the gentler spirit
quailed before approaching danger, or success seemed doubtful. In music
it has frequently served an important purpose. Not only Bach, but other
composers of his time arranged it. Mendelssohn uses it with powerful
effect in his Reformation symphony. Nicolai employs it in his Fest
overture. Meyerbeer more than once puts it in the mouth of Marcel the
Huguenot, when dangers gather about his master, though the Huguenots were
not Lutherans but Calvinists; and Wagner introduces it with overwhelming
power in his triump