for the glory of God against an inimical world, and the celebration
of an ideal consisting in a peaceful, happy existence in the Land
of Promise under God's protecting care. This God presented Himself
occasionally as a militant, all-powerful warrior, but only in
moments when the fortunes of His people were critically at issue.
These moments, however, were exceptional and few; as a rule, God
manifested Himself in prophecy, through words and music. The laws
were promulgated in song; so were the prophetic promises,
denunciations, and calls to repentance; and there grew up a
magnificent liturgical service in the temple.

Hebrew poetry, epic and lyrical, was thus antagonistic to the
drama. So, also, Dr. Chrysander contends, was the Hebrew himself.
Not only had he no predilection for plastic creation, his life was
not dramatic in the sense illustrated in Greek tragedy. He lived a
care-free, sensuous existence, and either fell under righteous
condemnation for his transgressions or walked in the way prescribed
of the Lord and found rest at last in Abraham's bosom. His life was
simple; so were his strivings, his longings, his hopes. Yet when it
came to the defence or celebration of his spiritual possessions his
soul was filled with such a spirit of heroic daring, such a glow of
enthusiasm, as are not to be paralleled among another of the
peoples of antiquity. He thus became a fit subject for only one of
the arts--music; in this art for only one of its spheres, the
sublime, the most appropriate and efficient vehicle of which is the
oratorio.

One part of this argument seems to me irrelevant; the other not
firmly founded in fact. It does not follow that because the Greek
conscience evolved the conceptions of rebellious pride and punitive