We do not pretend to claim for these songs any great poetic merit. They abound with faults, such as were peculiar to most of the minor poets of that age. The versification is often rough and inharmonious, the words ill chosen for the rhyme, while conceits far-fetched and unnatural are most plentifully sprinkled through them. These, however, are faults peculiar to the versification of the time in which our poet flourished. The great merit of these songs, most undoubtedly, consists mainly in the pious ardor and genuine devotional feeling which characterize them. The reader is attracted at once by the deep and earnest piety they manifest. There seems to be a consistent effort in the poet’s mind to give utterance to his devotional feeling in words of earnestness and power, such words as shall not dishonor the high and noble theme he had chosen for his subject. It can readily be discovered that they give utterance to the language of his heart, and that the influence of that heart’s holiest affections was the happiest inspiration of his verse. If there is any truth in those sweet lines of Cowper, The Poet’s lyre to fix his fame, Should be the Poet’s heart; Affection lights a brighter flame, Than ever blazed by art. then “sweet George Herbert” has made sure his claim to remembrance, and left something behind him which posterity will not willingly let die. Wherever deep and holy love for sacred things is esteemed, there the verses of Herbert will find many ardent admirers. They are the pure and free-will offerings of a heart consecrated to pious uses, and attuned to sacred harmonies—the soft breathings of a devotional spirit, that seems too pure for earth. When he sings of the church where he so loved to worship, it is with all the earnest enthusiasm, if not with the inspiration of that noble song of Solomon, commencing, “Behold thou art fair, my love, behold thou art fair; thou hast dove’s eyes within thy locks, thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely; thy temples are like a piece of pomegranate within thy locks, thou art all fair, my love, there is no spot within thee.” And Herbert loved the church, because it was the fold where he could gather the flock that had been given him to tend. The church on earth was to him the emblem of the spiritual church “eternal in the heavens.” His gentle spirit seems all aglow with love, whenever he sings of its quiet retreats and the rich solemnities of its glorious worship.