hat the spire never adorned
the shrine of a pagan god, never glorified the mosque of a false
prophet, never, in purity, arose from any unconsecrated ground; but
when, at last, the Church of Christ felt the "beauty of holiness," then
it developed out of that beauty and pointed the way to God. It exhaled
from the growing perfection of the Church, as fragrance from an opening
flower. It is, therefore, peculiarly holy. It is a monitor of especial
grace. "It marshals us the way that we are going," like the visionary
dagger of Macbeth; but the knell that sounds beneath it summons only to
heaven.

Practically, it is utterly useless; and this is its honor and its
unspeakable dignity. We cannot even climb it, as we could a tower;
for it is nearly as unapproachable as the Oracle of God, save to the
innocent birds, who love to flock and wheel about it in the sunshine,
and build their nests in its "coignes of vantage," or, in the
night-time, to the troops of stars which touch it in their journey
through the skies. It is as beautifully idle as the lilies of the field;
and yet its expressiveness touches us so nearly, the propriety of its
sentiment is so striking, that, when the great test question of this
living age is applied to it, and we are asked, What is its use? what is
it good for? the heart is shocked at the impiety of the question, and
the feelings revolt, as against an insult. Upon the arches of Canterbury
Minster is carved,

NON * NOBIS * DOMINE * NON * NOBIS *
SED * NOMINI * TVO * DA * GLORIAM *

Nothing can be simpler than the composition of the pure spire. The
aesthetics of its development and growth are characteristically natural
and apparent. They are like the history of a flower from bud to bloom
under a warm sun. Let us become botanists of Art for a while, and
analyze those flowers of worship, as they opened "in that first garden
of their simpleness."

Considering the growth of the spire from the tower-roof, it might
naturally be supposed that the earliest forms would be square or round,
in plan. But no sooner had the roof passed into this new sphere of
existence, than the fine intelligence of the builders perceived that it
needed refinement. They saw that in a square spire there was so coarse a
distinction between the tapering mass of light and the tapering mass
of shadow, that the delicacy and lightness necessary to express the
sentiment they desired to convey did not exist in the new feature;--in
a roun