LUTHER'S PSALM. [Fraser's Magazine, 1831.] AMONG Luther's Spiritual Songs, of which various collections have appeared of late years,* the one entitled Eine feste Burg ist unser Gott, is universally regarded as the best; and indeed still retains its place and devotional use in the Psalmodies of Protestant Germany. Of the Tune, which also is by Luther, we have no copy, and only a second-hand knowledge to the original Words, probably never before printed in England, we subjoin the following translation; which, if it possess the only merit it can pretend to, that of literal adherence to the sense, will not prove unacceptable to our readers, Luther's music is heard daily in our churches, several of our finest Psalm-tunes being of his composition. Luther's sentiments, also, are, or should be, present in many an English heart; the more interesting to us is any the smallest articulate expression of these. The great Reformer's love of music, of poetry, it has often been remarked, is one of the most significant features in his character. But, indeed, if every great man, Napoleon himself, is intrinsically a poet, an idealist, with more or less completeness of utterance, which of all our great men, in these modern ages, had such an endowment in that kind as Luther? He it was, emphatically, who stood based on the Spiritual World of man, and only by the footing and mirac * For example: Luther's geistliche Licder nebst dessen Gedanken über die musica, (Berlin, 1817): Die Lieder Luther's gesammelt von Kosegarten und Rambach, &c. ulous power he had obtained there, could work such changes in the Material World. As a participant and dispenser of divine influences, he shows himself among human affairs a true connecting medium and visible Messenger between Heaven and Earth; a man, therefore, not only permitted to enter the sphere of Poetry, but to dwell in the purest centre thereof: perhaps the most inspired of all Teachers since the first apostles of his faith; and thus not a Poet only, but a Prophet and God-ordained Priest, which is the highest form of that dignity, and of all dignity. Unhappily, or happily, Luther's poetic feeling did not so much learn to express itself in fit Words that take captive every ear, as in fit Actions, wherein truly, under still more impressive manifestation, the spirit of spheral Melody resides, and still audibly addresses us. In his written Poems we find little, save that Strength of one whose words,' it has been said, 'were half-battles;' little of that still Harmony and blending softness of union which is the last perfection of Strength; less of it than even his conduct often manifested. With Words he had not learned to make pure music; it was by Deeds of Love, or heroic Valor, that he spoke freely; in tones, only through his Flute, amid tears, could the sigh of that strong soul find utterance. Nevertheless, though in imperfect articulation, the same voice, if we will listen well, is to be heard also in his writings, in his Poems. The following, for example, jars upon our ears; yet is there something in it like the sound of Alpine avalanches, or the first murmur of Earthquakes; in the very vastness of which dissonance a higher unison is revealed to us. Luther wrote this Song in a time of blackest threatenings, which, however, could in no wise become a time of Despair. In those tones, rugged, broken as they are, do we not recognise the accent of that summoned man, (summoned not by Charles the Fifth, but by God Almighty also,) who answered his friend's warning not to enter Worms, in this wise: 'Were there as many devils in Worms as there are roof-tiles, I would on;'. of him who, alone in that assemblage, before all emperors, and principalities, and powers, spoke forth these final and for ever memorable words: 'It is neither safe nor prudent to do aught against conscience. Here stand I, I cannot otherwise. God assist me. Amen!' It is evident enough that to this man all Popes' conclaves, and Imperial Diets, and hosts and nations were but weak; weak as the forest, with all its strong Trees, may be to the smallest spark of electric Fire. EINE FESTE BURG IST UNSER GOTT. Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott, Mit Ernst ers jetzt meint; Gross Macht und viel List Mit unsrer Macht ist nichts gethan, Es streit't für uns der rechte Mann, Fragst du wer er ist? Er heisst Jesus Christ, Der Herre Zebaoth, Das Feld muss er behalten. *Till such time, as either by proofs from Holy Scripture, or by fair reason or argument I have been confuted and convicted, I cannot, and will not recant, weil weder sicher noch gerathen ist, etwas wider Gewissen zu thun. Hier stehe ich, ich kann nicht anders. Gott helfe mir. Amen!' Und wenn die Welt voll Teufel wär, Das Wort sie sollen lassen stahn Gut', Ehr', Kind und Weib, Sie haben's kein Gewinn, Das Reich Gottes muss uns bleiben. A safe stronghold our God is still, With force of arms we nothing can, And were this world all Devils o'er God's Word, for all their craft and force, But spite of Hell, shall have its course, "T is written by his finger. And tho' they take our life, |