light--' with which the first part comes to an end.

In the second part we are shown the incidents leading up to the
Passion, and our emotions are deeply stirred by the pathetic music
indicating the sufferings of our Lord. What could be more touchingly
beautiful than the air, 'He was despised and rejected of men'? in the
writing of which Handel is said to have burst into tears. Then, the
Passion past, we have the realisation of all that that sacrifice
meant, the awakening of hope, followed by the triumphal chorus, 'Lift
up your heads, O ye gates!' and after a succession of beautiful airs
and choruses we reach the culminating point of the Recognition in that
grand hymn of praise, the 'Hallelujah Chorus,' with which the second
part concludes.

Scarcely have the glorious hallelujahs of the last chorus died away
ere the beautiful strains of the air, 'I know that my Redeemer
liveth,' are ringing in our ears; from this we are led to the chorus,
'Worthy is the Lamb,' indicating the glorification of the sacrifice,
and the marvellous concluding chorus of the 'Amen,' which strikingly
portrays the unified assent of heaven and earth to the Godhead of
Christ.

On the occasion of the first performance of the 'Messiah' in London,
at which the King was present, the vast audience were so impressed by
the grandeur of the music and the reverence which it inspired that
when the 'Hallelujah Chorus' began, and the words, 'For the Lord God
omnipotent reigneth,' rang out, they one and all, including the King,
sprang to their feet as if by a given signal, and stood until the last
notes of the chorus had been sounded. From that time forward it has
been the custom at performances of the oratorio to stand during the
'Hallelujah Chorus.'

No other sacred musical work has been the means of securing for the
sick and needy so much relief as that which the 'Messiah' has effected
by its frequent performances in various parts of England and on the
Continent. Handel, as we have seen, gave the proceeds of its first
performance to help the sick and miserable, and his good example has
been followed by many others. Later on his compassion was aroused by
the poor, helpless little inmates of the Foundling Hospital. We all
know the Foundling Hospital, in Guilford Street, Russell Square, but
perhaps we do not all know why it is that Handel's portrait is there
accorded the place of honour, or why the foundlings should hold the
composer's memory in such revere