And another of England's great poets, the calmest, quietest, the least impassioned of all her bards; moved by this theme, bursts forth in the burning words:—
(d) Lastly, in pointing out the main features of the English language, I must not fail to state its peculiar identity with religion. For centuries this language has been baptized in the spirit of the Christian faith. To this faith it owes most of its growth, from a state of rudeness and crudity, to its present vigor, fulness, and expressiveness. It is this moreover which has preserved its integrity, and kept it from degenerating into barren poverty on the one hand, or luxuriant weakness on the other. The English Bible, more than any other single cause, has been the prime means of sustaining that purity of diction, that simplicity of expression, that clearness of thought, that earnestness of spirit, and that loftiness of morals, which seem to be distinctive peculiarities of this language. Its earliest ventures for a true life, were wrestlings with the spirit of the Word. Previous to the invention of printing, pious Kings and holy Priests made their first attempts in English, in their rude essays to write, "in their own language," the words and precepts of the Gospels. Its first lispings were in Scriptural translations, its earliest stammerings in fervent prayers, holy Primers, and sacred minstrelsy. Then when the Press unfolded its leaves,
