CHORAL SINGING.-How should a choral be sung, idea of time and numbers. In brief, the best chorals and what tunes shall we select? How shall we know contain notes related to each other by simple numbers, a good tune when we hear it? In answering these like Old Hundred, Dundee, Luther's Chant, Missionquestions, I shall try to make myself understood by ary Hymn, or related by such numbers as 1, 2, and 3, the unmusical reader. A good tune, fit to be sung by as Balerma, Dennis, Ölmutz, Boylston and others. the congregation, must answer Rossini's question: Of course there are exceptions to this rule. Certain "Will it grind?" For instance, "America" is a very tunes possess a life and animation strong enough to good hand-organ tune. It will grind first-rate. The carry them over any ordinary difficulties. Handel's tune known as Dundee is better still. It contains but Christmas and the Portuguese Hymn are notable extwo kinds of notes. The figures 1 and 2 represent its amples. If you take pains to examine the best Gercharacter. They are simple numbers, closely related. man chorals, you will find, as a rule, they contain only The tune Arlington has four kinds of notes, that may two kinds of notes-long and short ones, related as be represented by the figures 1, 2, 2%, and 4. This, I to 2. Simple and exact, they are easily caught, and you see, is an irregular arrangement. Tunes contain- are produced, as we happen to know, with wonderful ing dotted notes are not the best, because the dotted effect. Having seen that simplicity of form and menote destroys that straight-forward, exact, and mechan-chanical exactitude are the standards of a good choral, ical character that appeals so directly to the common let us see what more they should have. First comes

hearts welcome you,

come, come a way.

way.

way.

way.

there with trust and friendship, too, Let
true
round the heart will gladness be, And time fly merri-ly, O come, come a
sing in tuneful har-mo-ny, Of hope, joy, liber-ty, O come, come a
Him who crowns our peaceful days With health, hope, happiness, O come, come a -

association. Old Hundred has a rather dry, uninter-people-men, women and children-sing the melody; esting melody; yet it will never die. It has become so bound up with our dearest thoughts, and connected with our most sacred occasions, that we sing it with tearful eyes, and wonder why we love such a dear, stupid old song. Association keeps alive many a psalm that should be happily forgotten. The tunes Mear and Marlow might well be expunged from our books, as too dreary for any cheerful and sensible Christian; yet there they are likely to stay as long as you and I live. Next, the tunes should always be pitched in low keys. I have listened to congregational singing for many years, and I have never heard the people sing above E of the scale with ease. The

and I find this the limit of their average voices. They can go higher; but it is strained and unpleasant, neither edifying nor agreeable. The tunes should have a simple and flowing movement. The intervals or steps between the notes should not be wide nor unusual. "America" has a remarkably singing melody, confined within seven notes. The tune Ward keeps within six; and Naomi, one of the most beautiful melodies ever written, covers only five notes. Choral music is attracting increased attention every year. It is destined to grow and improve. Let us bid it Godspeed. May the day soon come when we can say: "Yea, let all the people praise the Lord!"-Barnard.

THE OLD FAMILIAR PLACE.

Moderato.

C. W. GLOVER.

I.

2.

We may rove the wide world o'er, But we ne'er shall find a trace Of the home we loved of We may sail o'er every sea, But we still shall fail to find An-y spot so dear to

3 9.4

yore, Of the old fa- mil - iar place; Other scenes may be as bright, But we miss, 'neath alien be As the one we left behind; Words of comfort we may hear, But they can- not touch the

skies, Both the welcome and the light Of the old, kind, loving eyes. Home is home, of this beheart, Like the tones to memory dear, Of the friends from whom we part. Home is home, the wanderer

rall.

reft, Mem'ry loves a - gain to trace All the forms of those we left In the old fa- mil-iar place. longs All the scenes of youth to trace, And to hear the old home songs In the old fa- mil-iar place.

THE LAND OF MEMORY.

Full far away a city stands,

'Mid three-fold wails of years: The soul sea washes on its strands,

Its skies are smiles and tears; [fore,
There dwell all those who've gone be-
There soon we all shall be;
Yet they who there give hand to hand,
That warm hand never see.

The brimming cup we there shall fill,
No clinking answer lends;
The jovial song we there shall sing,
In silence 'gins and ends.
But in that land will meet full oft,

This goodly company;

And each to each a health will pledge,
That land of memory.

THE BLUE BIRD.

Sweet bird, thy early note is gay,
In woodland or in glade;

It tells of flowers that ne'er decay,
Of joys that never fade;
Thy song, so sweetly it doth float
O'er leafy bank and dell,

It seems some spirit's mocking note,
From Echo's silver shell.

Sweet bird, I hear thy welcome call,
As on thy halcyon wing;
Now joyous swell, now gently fall,
Sweet warbler of the spring;
How many hours I've sat and heard
Thy tender, loving lay!

Oh! thou did'st seem some spirit bird
From Eden lands away.

Could I but live those youthful hours-
That happy time once more,
I'd laugh at care and scatter flowers
As gaily as of yore.

'Tis true, our fleeting days impart
Alternate hopes and fears;
But many a joy lights up the heart,
Along the flight of years.

Soft, soft music is stealing,

Sweet, sweet lingers the strain; Loud, loud now it is pealing, Waking the echoes again.

Yes, yes yes yes.
Waking the echoes again.

Join, joia children of sadness,
Send, send sorrow away;
Now, now cringing to gladness,
Warble a beautiful lay.

Yes, yes, yes, yes,
Warble a beautiful lay.

Sweet, sweet melody's numbers,
Hark! hark! gently they swell,
Deep, deep, waking from slumbers,
Thoughts in the bosom that dwell.
Yes, yes, yes, yes,
Thoughts in the bosom that dwell.

WHEN SHALL WE MEET AGAIN?

When shall we meet again, meet ne'er to sever?
When will peace wreathe her chain round us for-
ever?
Our hearts will ne'er repose, safe from each blast that
[blows,
In this dark vale of woes, never-no, never!
When shall love freely flow, pure as life's river?
When shall sweet friendship glow changeless for-
ever?
[shall fill,
Where joys celestial thrill, where bliss each heart
And fears of parting chill, never-no, never!

Up to that world of light, take us, dear Saviour;
May we all there unite, blessed forever; [swell,
Where kindred spirits dwell, there may our music
And time our joys dispel, never-no, never!
Soon shall we meet again, meet ne'er to sever;
Soon shall peace wreath her chain round us for-
[woes:
Our hearts will then repose secure from worldly
Our songs of praise shall close never-no, never!

ever;

THE BOAT SONG.

On we are floating in sunshine and shadow,
Soft are the ripples that sing as we go,
Softly they break on the edge of the meadow,
Wooing the grasses with melodies low.
Lightly our boat on the water is swinging,
Onward she floats while the swift oars we ply,
Gay are our hearts as the songs we are singing,
Bright are our hopes as the radiant sky.
Comrades, sing on, while the echoes awaking,
Join in your music with happy refrain,
Sing, while the waves on the sunny banks break-
Answer your cadence with music again.
Soon will the mantle ofev'ning fall o'er us,
Soon will the daylight fade out from the sky,
Then with a thought of a welcome before us,
Back thro' the twilight we'll cheerfully hie.

WHAT FAIRY-LIKE MUSIC.

ting,

What fairy-like music steals over the sea,
Entrancing the senses with charm'd melody! [main,
'Tis the voice of the mermaid, that floats o'er the

Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills the breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see,

And in Thy presence rest.

Nor voice can sing,nor heart can frame,
Nor can memory find,

A sweeter sound than Jesus' Name,
The Saviour of mankind.

O Hope of ev'ry contrite heart,
O Joy of all the meek,

To those who fall, how kind Thou art!
How good to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah! this
Nor tongue nor pen can show;
The love of Jesus, what it is
None but his loved ones know.
Jesus, our only joy be Thou,
As thou our prize wilt be;
In Thee be all our glory now,
And through eternity.

DAY.

As she mingles her song with the gondolier's strain! SOFTLY NOW THE LIGHT of
The winds are all hush'd, and the waters at rest:
They sleep like the passions in infancy's breast;
Till storms shall unchain them from out their dark
cave,

And break the repose of the shore and the wave.
THE MOWERS' SONG.

When early morning's ruddy light bids man to la

bor go,

We haste with scythes all sharp and bright
The meadow grass to mow.

We mowers, dal de ral day.

We cut the lilies-ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Hey, dey, dey, yes, hey, dey, dey,
We cut the lilies and hay.

The cheerful lark sings sweet and clear, the black-
bird chirps away,

[May.

And all is lively, sprightly here, like merry, merry
We mowers, dal de ral day,
[ha!

We roll the swaths of green-ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Hey, dey, dey, yes, hey, dey, dey,
We roll the swaths of green hay.

The maidens come in gladsome train, and skip along
the way,
[mown hay.

Rejoiced to tread the grassy plain and toss the new
The maidens, dal re ral day,

They rake the lilies and-ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Hey, dey, dey, yes, hey, dey, dey,
They rake the lilies and hay.

THE MILL-WHEEL.

By day and by night is the grain being ground, clip,
The miller is jolly and ever alert,

That we may have bread and be glad like a bird,
clip clap, clip, clap, clip, ciap.

How busy the wheels are in turning the stone, clip,
clap,
[clip, clap,
And grinding so finely the grain we have grown,
The baker the flour for the baking will use,
And make us a roll, or a cake if we choose, clip,
clap, clip, clap, clip, clap.

Softly now the light of day
Fades upon my sight away;
Free from care, from labor free,
Lord, I would commune with thee,
Thou, whose all-pervading eye
Naught escapes, without, within,
Pardon each infirmity,

Open fault, and secret sin.

Soon for me the light of day
Shall foreves pass away;

Then, from sin and sorrow free,

Take me, Lord, to dwell with Thee,
Thou who, sinless, yet hast known
All of man's infirmity,

Then, from Thine eternal throne,
Jesus, look with pitying eye.

JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL

Jesus, lover of my soul,

Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high;
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life be past;
Safe into the haven guide;
Oh! receive my soul at last.
Other refuge have I none;

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me!
All my trust on thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless head

With the shadow of Thy wing!
Plenteous grace with Thee is fo
Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams about
Make and keep me pure w
Thou of Life the Fountain at
Spring Thou up within my
Freely let me take of The
Rise to all eternity.

[The Music of the Songs and Hymns on this page may be found in Supplement No. 7.]

ROSE OF ALLANDALE.

FAVORITE ENGLISH SONG.

1. The morn was fair, the skies were clear, No breath came o'er the sea, When Mary left her highland cot, And
2. Where'er I wander'd, east or west, Tho' fate began to lower, A solace still was she to me, In
3. And when my fever'd lips were parch'd On burning Afric's sand, She whisper'd notes of happiness, And

wander'd forth with me. The flowers deck'd the mountain side, And fragrance fill'd the vale, By
sorrow's lonely hour: When tempests lash'd our gallant bark, And rent her shivering sail, One
tales of dis
tant land: My life had been a wilderness, Un- blest by for- tune's gale, Had

1. God bless our native land! Firm may she ever stand, Through storm and night; When the wild 2. For her our pray'rs shall rise To God a-bove the skies, On him we wait; Thou who art