Frontispiece
Apologia
The Divine and Moral Songs of Isaac Watts
Bibliographical Notes
The British Editions
The American Editions
[Illustration: D^{r}. WATTS. _Bartolozzi Sculp._]
The Divine and Moral
SONGS
_of_
ISAAC WATTS
An _Essay_ thereon and a
tentative _List of Editions_ by
WILBUR MACEY STONE
_Out of the Mouth of Babes and
Sucklings thou hast perfected
Praise._ Matt. XXI. 16
_NEW YORK_
Privately printed for
_The Triptych_
1918
_Apologia_
The gathering of the data which are the bases of this little book was
an offshoot of my general interest in the collection of books made
for the children of long ago. This field is rich in human interest
and leads one into folk-lore and fairyland, a delightful avocation
for a man busy in the urgent bread-and-butter (and pie) struggle of
to-day.
It was my intention and ardent desire to put forth this little story
in 1915, to commemorate the two-hundredth anniversary of the first
edition of the _Divine and Moral Songs_--but--“the best-laid plans
o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley”, and mine were ruthlessly spilled;
so instead of this book appearing in 1915, the dear old world has
made several stormy circuits of its orbit and the chronologers are
about to hang out the sign for 1919 before a kindly fate permitted
the fulfillment of my heart’s desire in this matter. But never mind,
I am doubtless the only one to be much annoyed, for the whole of 1915
passed without the appearance of so much as a newspaper paragraph,
so far as I could discover, relative to the momentous fact that two
hundred years ago an immortal book first saw the light.
It may be, however, of passing interest to note that the
one-hundredth anniversary of the _Divine Songs_ was celebrated by the
battle of Waterloo, and the two-hundredth anniversary found Europe in
the midst of a conflict to which that celebrated battle of 1815 now
seems like boys’ play.
And so, with Herrick I say:
“Goe thou forth my booke, though late;
Yet be timely fortunate,
It may chance good-luck may send
Thee a kinsman, or a friend,
That may harbour thee, when I,
With my fates neglected lye.
If thou know’st not where to dwell,
See, the fier’s by: _Farewell_.”