On certain occasions, the Greek chorus celebrated divine worship in the
vicinity of the great altar of their god. Clad in magnificent vestments,
they move to solemn measures about it; they ascend and descend the steps
that lead to it; they offer sacrifices upon it; they carry in their
hands lighted torches; they pour out lustral water; they burn incense;
they divide into antiphonal bands, and sing alternate stanzas of their
sacred songs.

So, in their religious festivals, the Jewish chorus surrounded the high
altar of their worship, gorgeously dressed, and with an harmonious
tread; they mounted and remounted the steps; they offered sacrifices;
they bore branches of trees in their hands; they scattered the lustral
water; they burnt incense; they pealed the responsive anthem.

But while we follow down the stream of resemblance to a certain point,
it divides at last: on the Greek side, it is diverted into the lighter
practice of the theatre; on the Jewish side, it seems to deepen itself
in the religious feeling of the nation.

Aeschylus, the father of tragedy, seizing upon the chorus, elaborated it
into the drama. The religious idea, indeed, seems never to have deserted
the gentile drama; for, at a later period, we find the Romans appointing
theatrical performances with the special design of averting the anger of
the gods. A religious spirit, also, pervades all the writings of the
ancient dramatists; they bring the gods to view, and the terrors of the
next world, on their stage, are seen crowding upon the sins of this.

On the other hand, David, who may be denominated the Alfred of the Jews,
seems to have contented himself with the chorus; he allotted its