We find ourselves now in the zone of hymn-writing.  From this period, that is, from towards the close of the seventeenth century, a large amount of the fervour of the country finds vent in hymns:  they are innumerable.  With them the scope of my book would not permit me to deal, even had I inclination thitherward, and knowledge enough to undertake their history.  But I am not therefore precluded from presenting any hymn whose literary excellence makes it worthy.

It is with especial pleasure that I refer to a little book which was once a household treasure in a multitude of families,[156] the Spiritual Songs of John Mason, a clergyman in the county of Buckingham.  The date of his birth does not appear to be known, but the first edition of these songs[157] was published in 1683.  Dr. Watts was very fond of them:  would that he had written with similar modesty of style!  A few of them are still popular in congregational singing.  Here is the first in the book: 

  A GENERAL SONG OF PRAISE TO ALMIGHTY GOD.

  How shall I sing that Majesty
    Which angels do admire? 
  Let dust in dust and silence lie;
    Sing, sing, ye heavenly choir. 
  Thousands of thousands stand around
    Thy throne, O God most high;
  Ten thousand times ten thousand sound
    Thy praise; but who am I?

  Thy brightness unto them appears,
    Whilst I thy footsteps trace;
  A sound of God comes to my ears;
    But they behold thy face. 
  They sing because thou art their sun: 
    Lord, send a beam on me;
  For where heaven is but once begun,
    There hallelujahs be.

  Enlighten with faith’s light my heart;
    Enflame it with love’s fire;
  Then shall I sing and bear a part
    With that celestial choir. 
  I shall, I fear, be dark and cold,
    With all my fire and light;
  Yet when thou dost accept their gold,
    Lord, treasure up my mite.

  How great a being, Lord, is thine. 
    Which doth all beings keep! 
  Thy knowledge is the only line
    To sound so vast a deep. 
  Thou art a sea without a shore,
    A sun without a sphere;
  Thy time is now and evermore,
    Thy place is everywhere.

  How good art thou, whose goodness is
    Our parent, nurse, and guide! 
  Whose streams do water Paradise,
    And all the earth beside! 
  Thine upper and thy nether springs
    Make both thy worlds to thrive;
  Under thy warm and sheltering wings
    Thou keep’st two broods alive.

  Thy arm of might, most mighty king
    Both rocks and hearts doth break: 
  My God, thou canst do everything
    But what should show thee weak. 
  Thou canst not cross thyself, or be
    Less than thyself, or poor;
  But whatsoever pleaseth thee,
    That canst thou do, and more.

  Who would not fear thy searching eye,
    Witness to all that’s true! 
  Dark Hell, and deep Hypocrisy
    Lie plain before its view. 
  Motions and thoughts before they grow,
    Thy knowledge doth espy;
  What unborn ages are to do,
    Is done before thine eye.