as J. Stanyan Bigg, the latest, but not the least, of the true poets of the present cycle, has finely said. We must give another extract from his “Night and the Soul,” published too late for quotation in the body of our volume:-- “Nature is still, as ever, the thin veil Which half conceals, and half reveals the face And lineaments supernal of our King,-- The modifying medium through which His glories are exhibited to man,-- The grand repository where he hides His mighty thoughts to be dug out like diamonds;-- Still is the day irradiate with His glory, Flowing in steady, sun-streaked, ocean gush From His transcendant nature,--still at night O’er our horizon trail the sable robes Of the Eternal One, with all their rich Embroidery and emblazonment of stars.” This is high and holy teaching. Well were it if every mere nature-worshipper could be brought to the same conviction as the poet of “Night and the Soul,” and confess that-- “Religion is the true Philosophy! Faith is the last great link ’twixt God and man. There is more wisdom in a whispered prayer Than in the ancient lore of all the schools: The soul upon its knees holds God by the hand. Worship is wisdom as it is in heaven! ‘I do believe! Help Thou mine unbelief!’ Is the last greatest utterance of the soul.” “I do believe!” how few are there among the gifted children of song, who can stoop from the lofty heights of intellectual glory, to utter this confession of the insufficiency of human reason, the littleness of human power.-- “Stoop, stoop, proud man! the gate of heaven is low, And all who enter in thereat must bend! Reason has fields to play in, wide as air, But they have bounds; and if she soar beyond, Lo! there are lightnings and the curse of God. And the old thundered ‘Never!’ from the jaws Of the black darkness and the mocking waste. Come not to God with questions on thy lips, He will have love--love and a holy trust. And the self-abnegation of a child. ’Tis a far higher wisdom to believe, Than to cry ‘Question’ at the porch of truth. Think not the Infinite will calmly brook The plummet of the finite in its depths.” God and His attributes are undoubtedly the poet’s noblest themes, and to celebrate the greatness and glory of His works, the wonders of His power, and the riches of His grace, have the highest efforts of human genius in all ages been directed. From the time when Moses sung his song of triumph as the waters closed over Pharaoh and his host, when the Prophets uttered their rapt predictions, and the inspired Psalmist sent forth those strains of supplication and thanksgiving which are still sounding daily in our ears, and stirring our hearts to devotion, down to the period when Milton wrote his great epic,