The thought of a good hymn must lie on the surface. It must appeal not only to the scholarly and subtle minds in a singing congregation, but also to all who are expected to join the religious exercise. Paul’s word regarding unknown tongues applies here: “Except ye utter by the tongue words easy to be understood, how shall it be understood, how shall it be known what is spoken?” The practical Paul enforces the parallel by saying a few verses further on, “I will sing with the spirit, and I will sing with the understanding also.” No matter how high the thought or how deep the sentiment of a poem may be, or how felicitously they may be expressed, it is not an effective hymn if study (for which there is no time at the moment of singing) is required to bring out its meaning and feeling. _Hymns May Not Be Extremely Individualistic._ While a hymn may be the expression of the individual poet, it must be an appropriate expression of the mind and heart of the whole congregation as it sings. Yet in addition to the evident, clearly expressed thought, there may be singing, _sotto voce_ between the lines, of deeper experiences and higher soarings of the spirit that only prolonged meditation can reveal. Some sacred poems express a religious emotion in so individual and unusual a way that they are not at all fitted to express the emotion of a congregation. As an illustration of a poem too personal and individualistic, here are a few stanzas of a hymn of Rev. Samuel J. Stone, which is found in an increasing number of current hymnals: “My feet are worn and weary with the march On the rough road and up the steep hillside; O city of our God, I fain would see Thy pastures green where peaceful waters glide. * * * * * * * Patience, poor soul! The Saviour’s feet were worn, The Saviour’s heart and hands were weary too; His garments stained and travel-worn, and old, His vision blinded with pitying dew.” This is a beautiful poem that would make an admirable text for a solo, but it is out of place on the lips of a congregation. Compare with this the very useful hymn by Bonar: “I was a wand’ring sheep, I did not love the fold; I did not love my Shepherd’s voice, I would not be controlled.” Every one of the first eight lines of this once widely used hymn begins with the pronoun of the first person singular, yet there is no particular individuality in this confession; it is the expression of the common experience in a straightforward manner, void of all idiosyncrasy. In some hymns there is found an intensity of feeling that leads to an apparent extravagance of expression that a single soul can sometimes sincerely accept as the vehicle of its own experience, but which a gathering of miscellaneous people cannot sing without the great mass of them being insincere. For a careless person idly to sing with Faber, “I love Thee so, I know not how My transports to control,” or