01.11. On The Subject Of Parallelism As Bearing On The Structure And Interpretation ...

Section Tenth. On The Subject Of Parallelism As Bearing On The Structure And Interpretation Of New Testament Scripture.

IT seems to be the invariable tendency of the human mind—the consequence of its partial and imperfect working—that when it gets hold of a right principle, it cannot rest till this has been pushed in some direction to excess; and the subject of Scripture parallelism forms no exception to the rule. It was to the fine discernment and poetical taste of Bishop Lowth that we owe the first correct appreciation of the distinctive characteristics of Hebrew poetry, and the establishment of what he denominated parallelism, as the peculiar feature of its rhythmical structure. He showed, first in his Prelections on Hebrew Poetry, and afterwards in his Preliminary Dissertation to his work on Isaiah, that while the poetry of the He brews did not admit of rhyme, nor of the regular metrical measures we meet with in the classical poets in Greece and Rome, yet it possessed a clearly marked rhythmical structure, consisting in a certain correspondence of the lines not, however, in respect to the sound, but in respect to the sense; “a certain equality, (as he defined it,) resemblance, or relationship between the members of each period, so that in one or more lines or members of the same period things shall answer to things, and words to words, as if fitted to each other by a kind of rule or measure,” (Prelec. xix.) Lowth. gave to this rhythmical structure, as we have said, the name of parallel ism, or the parallelism of members—a name which is sufficiently indicative of the reality, and is not likely, in this country at least, to be displaced by the “verse-rhythm,” or “thought- rhythm” of Ewald. It is, however, in the thought or the sense that the rhythm properly lies. It is not simply, as Ewald justly states, a harmony of the members of the verse, but along with this, and as the foundation of this, “the rhythmical outpouring of the subject and life of the thoughts which fill the verse; and the beauty of the verse, as a whole, rises in proportion to the equilibrium and symmetry with which the sense is poured forth.”

We are not called here to enter into any formal investigation of the subject of parallelism, as connected with the poetical portions of Old Testament Scripture. But it may be proper to state, that under the general principle of parallelism Bishop Lowth comprehended the different forms, which he called severally synonymous, antithetic, and synthetic or constructive parallels. The synonymous parallel lines are those which correspond one to another, by expressing the same sense in different but equivalent terms—when a proposition is delivered, and is immediately repeated in whole or in part, the expression being varied, but the sense entirely or nearly the same. As when it is said—

“O-Jehovah, in-Thy-strength the-king shall-rejoice, And-in-Thy-salvation how greatly shall-he-exult!

The-desire of-his-heart Thou-hast-granted unto-him, And-the-request of-his-lips Thou-hast-not-denied.” The correspondence here is confined to two lines, the second of the two having a formal resemblance both in thought and in membership to the first. But the correspondence may also extend to three, to four, or even to five lines. The antithetic parallels are those “in which two lines correspond with one another by an opposition of terms and sentiments; in which the second is contrasted with the first, sometimes in expressions, sometimes in sense only.” One of the simplest examples is Proverbs 10:7, “The memory of the just is blessed, But the name of the wicked shall rot.” Or this, Proverbs 27:6, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend, But deceitful are the kisses of an enemy.” The antithesis expressed may differ both in kind and degree; and is found, indeed, to exist in very consider able variety, both in the Proverbs, where this species of parallelism particularly abounds, and in other parts of Scripture. The synthetic or constructive parallel lines are those, “in which the parallelism consists only in the similar form of construction; in which word does not answer to word, and sentence to sentence, as equivalent or opposite; but there is a correspondence and equality between the different propositions in respect of the shape or turn of the whole sentence, and of the constructive parts: such as noun answering to noun, verb to verb, number to number, negative to negative, interrogative to interrogative.” From its very nature, this species of parallel ism is of a somewhat looser, and more discursive sort than the others; but, as one of the best, and most familiar examples of it, we may point to Psalms 19:1-14, “The law of the Lord is perfect—converting the soul; The testimony of the Lord is sure—making wise the simple,” etc.

Now, looking to this parallelism, as first explained by Bishop Lowth, and applied by him to the more strictly poetical portions of Scripture, one can easily see the propriety and fitness of having the rhythmical structure of those portions confined to such a characteristic. It is the simplest of all rhythmical forms, and the freest, and, as such, peculiarly adapted to inspired strains, in which, whatever scope may be allowed to the fancy, the form must still be subordinated to the sense. The artificial and complicated measures of classical poetry would have been unsuited to such a purpose; for it would have been difficult, next to impossible, for us to regard what was written, if thrown into such forms, as the unconstrained and fresh utterances of men, who spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. It is the chaste and natural simplicity of parallelism which peculiarly adapts it for sacred purposes, and renders the discourse so true, hearty, and confidential. (Herder, Hebr. Poesie, i. 21.) For, when the heart pours itself forth, there naturally flows stream upon stream—which is parallelism; or it turns over the image, and shows the reverse side in order to impress the matter more deeply upon the heart—and this again is parallelism. Only a measure which possessed such freedom and simplicity could have been worthy of being employed as the poetry of revelation. And this alone, too, properly consisted with the design of the Bible, as destined for the use of men, in every nation and every language. It is the excellence of the simple rhythmical structure of Hebrew poetry, that it is “transfusible (to use the words of Bishop Jebb) into all languages—an excellence, not only unattainable in classical poetry, but prevented by classical metre. Classical poetry is the poetry of one language, and of one people. The words are, I shall not say chosen (though this be sometimes the case,) but arranged, with a view, not primarily to the sense, but to the sound. In literal translation, therefore, especially if the order of the original words be preserved, not only the melody is lost, but the sense is irreparably injured. Hebrew poetry, on the contrary, is universal poetry, the poetry of all languages and of all peoples: the collocation of the words is primarily directed to secure the best possible announcement and discrimination of the sense; and so, if a translator be only literal—if he only preserve, so far as the genius of his language will admit, the original order of the words, he will infallibly put the reader in possession of all, or nearly all, that the He brew text can give to the best Hebrew scholar of the present day.” (Sacred Literature, p. 20.)

Bishop Lowth has himself—in the Introduction to his work on Isaiah—given examples of this: he has shown how, by adhering closely to the order of the original, not only may the parallelism be preserved, but a more lively and spirited exhibition also of the sense be given, than is done by neglecting it. And he has further shown, that by means of the parallelism the interpretation is sometimes aided, in those cases especially, in which rare words are employed, or words of doubtful import; the plainer meaning of one member throwing light upon the corresponding one. At the same time, the help to be derived from this source is of a somewhat ambiguous character, and is very apt to lead astray. In the hands of Lowth himself, and of some of his followers, it led to not a few arbitrary interpretations, and unwarranted tamperings with the sacred text; as a change in the received import of a word, or in the existing text, when it seemed favoured by the parallelism, presented itself as an easy mode of getting over a difficulty, while, perhaps, it only led to a departure from the true meaning of the original. As a help to interpretation, therefore, the parallelism of Hebrew poetry always requires to be used with much caution. It does so more especially on this account, that there is both a considerable diversity, and a great freedom manifested in the use of the parallel arrangement. So that what is called the synonymous parallel is not always, and indeed very rarely, altogether synonymous; with a general similarity, it usually exhibits some distinct shade of meaning; and, again, when there is something of antithesis, the sentiment expressed is often but partially antithetic.

Bishop Lowth was not insensible of such freedoms and shades of diversity; for, when speaking of the second member of synonymous parallels, he represents it as containing either entirety, or nearly, the same sense as the first. And in his 4th Prelection, when treating generally of the subject of parallelism, he says not merely that they repeat, but also that they vary and strengthen the sense (idem iterant, variant, augent.) Practically, however, this was too much overlooked both by hi, and by his followers; and the custom sprung up and grew, among lexicographers and commentators, of ascribing many unwarranted meanings to words, on the simple ground, that the sense as determined by the parallelism seemed to require them. On this practice, which extended to the Greek Scriptures also, Bishop Jebb very properly cautioned Biblical students: he said, “The assumed synonyme of periods, mera- hers, or lines, has, in many instances, occasioned the consequent assumption, that in the Alexandrine translators of the Old Testament words are synonymous, which in all other writers have totally diverse meanings; and the same principle has been applied to several words and passages in the New Testament.” He adds, “Let the cited passages be carefully examined, and I venture to affirm, that instead of a synonyme, there will almost universally be found an important variation of meaning, between the related members; commonly a progress in the sense; but always such a variation as will quite supersede the necessity of resorting to an unusual, much less an unprecedented, acceptation of the terms employed.” (p. 51.)

Jebb, however, fell into something like an opposite extreme; and, instead of being satisfied with showing a general variation in the meaning of one parallel line as compared with another, he sought to establish a uniform and regular progression of thought in the sentences. Hence, the parallels of the first class instead of being called synonymous, have come to be usually designated gradational—though Jebb himself preferred the term cognate. We call this an extreme in the opposite direction; for though there can be no doubt, that in a very large proportion of the parallelisms of Scripture, there is a gradational advance, an intensifying of the sense in the se cond parallelistic line as compared with that given in the first, yet in a considerable number of cases there is a substantial agreement, or a diversity without anything that can fitly be called a progression of thought. And the attempt to make out a uniform gradational sense in the parallelism has led, not unfrequently, to forced interpretations. Take, for example, one of Jebb’s illustrative passages:—

“Who shall ascend the mountain of Jehovah? And who shall stand within His holy Place? The clean of hands, and the pure in heart.”—Psalms 24:3-4.

“To ascend,” says Jebb, “marks progress; to stand, stability and confirmation; the mountain of Jehovah , the site of the Divine sanctuary; His holy place, the sanctuary itself; and in correspondence with the advance of the two lines which form the first couplet, there is an advance in the members of the third line: the clean of hands, and the pure in heart:—the clean of hands shall ascend the mountain of Jehovah, the pure in heart shall stand within His holy place” (p. 40.) Augustine, as Jebb acknowledges, had in substance made the same distinction; but whenever, or by whomsoever made, I hold it to be quite fanciful—at least in the form in which it has now been presented. The Psalmist is plainly describing, in this part of the Psalm, the sincere worshipper of God, and doing so in respect to his going to appear before God at the appointed place of worship under the Old economy. But nothing seems farther from his mind, than the thought of delineating different degrees of purity, and of privilege connected with it—one to occupy a certain position of nearness, and another to occupy a higher and a holier. To ascend God’s mountain, in the sense here contemplated, was all one, in substance, with standing in His holy place; for, it was for the purpose and with the view of standing in such a place, that the worshipper comes into consideration as ascending the mountain;—and the law of Moses recognised no distinction of the kind here indicated—between cleanness of hands fitting for one act of worship, or one stage of approach, and purity of heart fit ting for another. Cleanness of hands .has no other significance than as a symbol of moral purity; if it differs at all from the other expression—purity of heart—it can only be in pointing more to the life as embodying the purity, which has its seat in the heart;—but the two expressions at most denote, not different degrees of goodness, but different aspects of the same goodness. Besides, in a continuous description of this sort, how can you stop simply at the second term of the description? If there is a progression in the first two, why should it not extend also to what follows? It is added, “Who hath not lifted up his soul to vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.” Do these denote a gradation of excellence beyond purity of heart? Or is the one clause here also to be connected with ascending the mountain, and the other with standing in the holy place?

Neither of these assertions can with any propriety be made. And on this ground also we hold, that the distinction is an entirely fanciful one; and that the description ought to be viewed in its entireness, as the description, under a variety of aspects, of one who might appear with acceptance among God’s sincere worshippers. The several epithets are not absolutely synonymous, but neither are they gradational; they are merely diverse representations of the righteous man’s state and character.

It is, therefore, my conviction that the principle of parallelism has been carried to excess by Dr. Jebb, and his followers, in the way of discovering correspondences or relations of a somewhat more complicated and artificial kind, than really exist. But the chief excess has been in connexion with what is called the introverted parallelism—a fourth form introduced by Jebb—and its application to portions of the New Testament writings. On this sort of parallel, Jebb says, “There are stanzas so constructed, that whatever be the number of lines, the first lines shall be parallel with the last; the second with the penultimate; and so throughout, in an order that looks inward, or, to borrow a military phrase, from flanks to centre.” One of the longest examples given of this by Jebb is also, perhaps, the best for his purpose that could have been selected: it is in Psalms 135:15-18, and consists of eight lines, of which the first and eighth are held to be parallel—then the second and seventh—the third and sixth—and finally, the two beside each other, the fourth and fifth, in the centre. The passage is the following:—

 “In the first line,” says Dr. Jebb, “we have the idolatrous heathen; in the eighth, those who put their trust in idols; in the second line the fabrication, in the seventh the fabricators; in the third line mouths without articulation, in the sixth mouths without breath; in the fourth line eyes without vision, and in the fifth ears without the sense of hearing.” No doubt, a sort of correspondence throughout, but, at the same time, no organic connexion, or peculiar relationship between the lines thus artificially brought together—nothing that materially contributes to help the meaning. Thus, in the first and last, “the idols of the heathen are silver and gold—so are all they who put their trust in them.” What is gained, we ask, by bringing these far-distant lines into juxtaposition? So far from the sense thereby gaining in force and clearness, it is not even preserved; and though, it is true, idolatrous persons are the subjects in both of them, yet this is no more than what may be said of the seventh line—“they who make them are like to them,”—and one might as well join together the first and seventh as the first and eighth. Indeed, rather do so, as this collocation would make sense, while the other does not. The parallelism, therefore, viewed in respect to the sense, which is the main point, fails in the manner it is here attempted to be carried out; and we gain nothing by throwing ourselves back from the later to the earlier line, with which it is supposed to have some special affinity. On the contrary, we are in danger of losing the real progression of thought, which appears in the passage, when viewed consecutively, for a somewhat fanciful arrangement of its several parts. So also in multitudes of passages, that might be produced from human compositions, it might be perfectly possible to throw the successive lines of thought into similar combinations, although these were quite remote from the mind of their respective authors; but by doing so we would gain nothing, we should rather lose by making the attempt.

It may be well to give proof of this by pointing to some examples; but let me first present some idea of the extent to which the parallelistic principle has been carried. A great portion of Bishop Jebb’s work on Sacred Literature was devoted to the purpose of applying that principle, and more especially this latter form of it, to New Testament Scripture. Of course, there are parallelisms there. The language of the New Testament, as well as its doctrines, spring out of the Old; and where the poetical element enters, it naturally assumes much of the ancient form; the parallelistic structure is more or less preserved. It is not, therefore, the fact of the existence of parallelisms in New Testament Scripture, but the limits within which they should be confined, or the form they may be made to assume, that can be regarded as just matter of controversy. It is not the presence, but the excess of the principle, as exhibited by the class of writers referred to, to which we object. But this principle, first of all, is often sought for in cases where there is nothing peculiar—where there is merely such a structure of the sentences as the mind naturally adopts when tersely expressing its thoughts, without thinking of any regular measures or parallel lines. Thus, in Luke 12:48, “Unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required; and to whom they have committed much, of him shall they demand the more;”—or Galatians 6:8, “He who soweth to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; and he who soweth to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life eternal.” In Matthew 8:20, we have an example of what is called the triplet, there being three lines in parallelism,—“The foxes have dens, And the birds of the air have nests, But the Son of Man hath not where to lay His head;” and again, in Revelation 14:18, “Put forth thy sharp sickle, And gather in the clusters of the vine of the earth, For its grapes have become fully ripe.” Then, there is the quatrain, consisting of two parallel couplets, the pairs of which are termed sometimes directly, sometimes inversely parallel—of which the passages just cited from Luke and Galatians may be taken as specimens;—or this in John 15:10, “If ye keep My commandments. Ye shall abide in my love, Even as I have kept My Father’s commandments, And abide in His love:”—And even this in Mark 12:12, “And they sought to seize Him, And they feared the people; For they knew that against them he spake the parable; And having left Him, they departed.” But examples of longer stanzas, having five, six, and even more lines, are produced—such as John 11:9-10, “Are there not twelve hours in the day? If a man walk in the day he stumbleth not; Because he seeth the light of this world: But if a man walk in the night he stumbleth; Because the light is not in him” (five;)—also Matthew 24:7-8; 1 Thessalonians 5:7-8; Romans 2:28-29. For those of six, see Matthew 16:2-3 (“When it is evening, ye say, a, calm! For the sky is red: And in the morning, to-day a tempest; For the sky is red and lowering: Hypocrites! the face of the sky ye know how to discern, But ye cannot [discern] the signs of the times.”) Also Luke 12:4-5; Luke 12:47-48; 1 Corinthians 15:47-49; and many parts of the Sermon on the Mount.

Now, that there is nothing of the proper parallel arrangement in such passages as these, is evident from the difficulty often of knowing where precisely the division of the lines should be made, or which part is to be held as corresponding with another. One has to cast about for a time, to see how the sentences can be brought into shape; and were it not for the stanza-form, into which they are thrown by the advocates of parallelism, very few persons would ever have imagined that they really admitted of such an arrangement. They belong to that species of composition which consists of apophthegm, or short sententious utterance, usually embodying some sort of comparison or contrast, and in which the mind naturally—in modern as well as ancient times, in its ordinary as well as in its loftier moods—throws its words into set forms and relative proportions but without ever thinking of any thing like remote and complicated parallels. Open, for example, Lord Bacon’s Collection of Apophthegms, and take one of the very first that occurs. As presented by him, it forms two short sentences; but in the hands of the Parallelists it would make a choice specimen of the introverted quatrain—thus:

Good fame is like fire: When you have kindled it, you may easily preserve it; But if once you have extinguished it, you will not easily kindle it again, At least not make it burn as bright as it did.

Here, it might be stated, the first and the last lines correspond; they both speak of fire in its capacity of burning, or shining brightly. Then, the two intermediate clauses refer to two different conditions, with their respective effects—the fire, when once kindled, easily preserved; when extinguished after having been kindled, not easily lit up anew. But what is gained by this sort of introversion? Does it throw additional light on the thoughts expressed, or present them in a more striking aspect? Not in the least; it only suggests an artificial arrangement, where none whatever was intended, and the mind of the writer was merely following the natural course of its thoughts and feelings. We might say substantially the same of another example in Bacon: “In great place, ask counsel of both times—Of the ancient time, what is best; and of the latter time, what is fittest:”—quite natural and orderly as it stands, but incapable of being improved by being drawn out into parallels. Or, look at this longer specimen from the same quarter:—

“The empirical philosophers are like pismires, They only lay up and use their store; The rationalists are like the spiders, They spin all out of their own bowels. But give me a philosopher who is like the bee, Who hath a middle faculty, Gathering from abroad, But digesting that which is gathered, By his own virtue.”

Thrown into so many lines, this passage doubtless presents a great variety of parallels—parallels, too, much more distinctly marked, and more easily detected, than many of those found in New Testament Scripture. But what advantage is gained by presenting the passage in such a form? Was this form present to the mind of the writer? Or, when exhibited, does it serve to bring out the thoughts in a more lucid and impressive manner? The writer himself has simply put them down as so many consecutive sentences—each growing naturally out of what preceded; and, so far from making any improvement upon the manner of exhibiting the truths stated, the introduction of parallelisms would tend rather to lead our minds in the wrong direction—make us conceive of him as busying himself about artificial forms of expression, while in reality he was intent only upon giving distinct utterance, or logical sequence, to the ideas which had formed themselves in his mind. The proper parallelism—that which by way of distinction should be so called—is a particular form of that measured diction, which the mind in an elevated state of feeling instinctively adopts, as necessary to give adequate expression to the fiery glow, or swelling fulness of sentiment, of which it is conscious: it cannot be satisfied with itself, till it has thrown its conceptions and feelings into such a compressed and regulated form. But in the examples that have been adduced both from Bacon and the New Testament, it is the reflective or logical faculties that are at work. The mind is in its ordinary mood, and merely seeks in a pointed and consecutive manner to present its thoughts on some particular topic. So that introverted parallelisms, or complicated structures of any kind, are out of place; nor can they serve any purpose but that of suggesting the idea of constraint or art, where in reality nothing of the kind existed. Not only, however, does this extreme fondness for parallel isms, and the attempt to discover them in the simply didactic or historical portions of New Testament Scripture, tend to give too artistic and constrained an appearance to such portions, but it leads occasionally to fanciful conceits and false interpretations. The most part, as we have said, of the Sermon on the Mount has been turned into examples of parallelisms—some of them of the most involved and intricate description, but never with the effect of throwing any fresh light upon its different parts—sometimes, however, with the effect of arbitrarily changing the connexion, and obscuring the natural import. In proof of this we may take one of Jebb’s examples, which is re-produced by Dr. Forbes, in his work on Scripture Parallelism—viz., Matthew 7:6 : “Give not that which is holy to the dogs, Neither cast your pearls before swine; Lest they trample them under their feet, And turn about and rend you.” This is considered as a specimen of the introverted parallelism; so that the first and the fourth go together, then the second and the third. It is, therefore, according to Dr. Jebb, to be read thus: “Give not that which is holy to the dogs, Lest they turn about and rend you; Neither cast your pearls before swine, Lest they trample them under their feet.” And this interpretation is justified on the ground that our Lord wished to place the more dangerous act of imprudence first and last, so as to make it, and its fatal result, produce the deepest impression on the mind; while the other and less senseless form—that represented by the image of casting pearls before swine—is placed in the middle. But, in that case, by the ordinary laws of construction, something would have been required to carry back our thoughts from the last to the first member: and Dr. Jebb, sensible of this, shoves in a those before the verbs in the last line—“Lest those turn about and rend you.” And, indeed, to make the matter quite right, the they in the preceding clause should have been these: it should have stood thus: “Give not that which is holy to the dogs, Neither cast your pearls before swine: Lest these (the swine) trample them under their feet, And those (the dogs) turn about and rend you.” In this way, no doubt, the references become tolerably plain; but it is a plainness for which we are indebted to the invention or arbitrariness of an interpreter who has a theory to support, and adjusts the words to the theory, rather than the theory to the words. Plainness of this kind is too easily found to be of much value, and in the present case it is not needed. For, while both dogs and swine might be included in the latter part of our Lord’s statement, it is the swine more especially, not the dogs, that must be meant. The one, as well as the other, might turn about and rend those who threw something in their way;—but from the very nature of the case, it is the swine we are here naturally led to think of as acting such a part:—both, because they are the more voracious and savage in disposition, and because the thing cast to them—pearls—being fitted to mock rather than to satiate their appetite, it was quite natural for them to turn about and rend the person who had thus provoked, without satisfying, their greed. The dogs, on the other hand, had no temptation to act so ferocious a part; for in having what was holy given to them, they doubtless had what they wished—they got flesh to eat; only, being holy flesh, they were incapable of appreciating its distinctive character, and treated it as a common thing. Understood spiritually, the dogs represent those who are in such a grovelling and debased condition, that they have no aptitude for the things of God no relish or capacity for spiritual exercises and enjoyments; so that to admit them to sacred privileges, or to spread before them the joys of the Divine life, were only to give them an opportunity of treating as common—profaning—what should be handled with holy reverence and spiritual relish. The characters represented by the swine, however, are such as have reached a more advanced stage in the course of depravity—not grovelling, merely, and sensual, but also devilish—ready to resent as evil what has been meant for good, but does not suit their unhallowed appetite; hence disposed, not only to treat with despite or scorn the pearls of Gospel truth and promise, but also to vilify, abuse, or persecute those who would press these on their regard. It is such, therefore—the characters represented by the swine—the sour, ungenial, repulsive, or furious, as well as worldly spirits, who are chiefly referred to, and warned against, as likely to turn again and rend those who might offer the precious things of the Gospel to them. Thus it appears, that the natural order and connexion is also the best; and the search after a more artificial arrangement only leads to a mistaken application of the images employed. The same line of remark in substance might be extended to many other passages in New Testament Scripture, to which the principle of parallelism has been applied. And the objections already urged are a fortiori valid in regard to a still farther extension of the principle, which has occasionally been made in particular by Mr. Boys, in what he designates a Key to the Book of Psalms, and more recently adopted by Dr. Forbes. By this more extended application of the principle, whole chapters, and passages long enough to form a chapter, are treated as specimens of the introverted parallelelism. The entire Epistle of Philemon is held to be constructed on this principle—the two verses at the centre (Philemon 1:15-16) having something in common, viz., one and the same subject, Onesimus; and then the respective verses on each side, as they recede from this centre, possessing what is thought to render them parallel one to another. The merest glance over the arrangement is sufficient to convince any unbiassed mind that it is altogether fanciful; since what are called parallel verses have often so little in common, that no one, who was not in search of resemblances, would ever have thought of them. But even if there had been more to countenance the idea in appearance, we should still have rejected it. The very conception of such complicated and artificial structures has something palpably and painfully unnatural about it, and is utterly opposed to the simplicity, which we cannot but associate with the epistolary and didactic parts of Scripture. It is as if one should compress the free and spontaneous movements of Spirit-stirred minds within bones of steel, and make art, rather than nature, the ground-form of the utterances of God’s Spirit. Such applications of parallelism, therefore, must be ranked as a vicious excess—unsound in principle, and sure, in practice, to lead to frivolous conceits. Parallelism, as already remarked, properly belongs to the poetical province, being the simplest of the measured and regular forms into which a poetical elevation throws the conceptions and feelings which it strives to give forth. If judiciously applied to those portions of Scripture which partake of this elevation, the beauty of the composition, and the fulness and force of the thoughts expressed in it, will be more distinctly perceived, and may be more impressively set forth. But when brought into the province of history, of epistolary writing or familiar discourse, if admitted to a place at all, it must be within very narrow bounds, and in connexion only with the simpler modes of construction.