Singing cures sighing. Lift up a note of praise and you can raise the
heaviest off and roll it clean off the heart. Christianity is a
religion of song. Its forerunner, Judaism, left the ages the rich
legacy of the Psalms. Its founder, when he knew that death was
imminent, sang one of those ancient songs with his friends. His
followers early gathered for worship in song. Peter beguiled prison
hours with hymns. Meeting in the catacombs, the early Christians made
the galleries echo with their praise.
To-day every revival is but a wave of song. The successful churches
know the inspirational and the ethical power of good hymns. The
decline of many a church may be traced to the exclusion of the people
from their share in the worship, to the attempt to praise God by proxy,
or to substitute an artistic exhibition for an act of exaltation.
Not only in public worship, but in private life, hymns and songs have a
significant influence. It is always easy to remember rhymed forms of
truth; happy the heart with a store of good hymns; it is provisioned
for many a long voyage. When the light burns low the heart is
illumined by the memory of choice thoughts expressed in poetry, by
songs sung long ago. When the burden seems all too heavy, and the
traveller would fain lie down in despair, he remembers some word of
cheer, some stanza from another pilgrim's song, and he is strengthened
for the road.
Christianity is a singing religion, because it is a happy religion. It
came to end the gloom of this world. The song must take the place of
the sigh. Happiness must rule the utterance. Even a hearty whistle
may be a wonderful means of grace. Every natural expression of
happiness becomes a religious act. The flowers praise the gardener by
being beautiful and fragrant, and men praise God by being happy.
Song is a creator of happiness. You cannot sing songs of joy and
nourish jealousy or hatred. A song of gratitude for things you have
will often chase away the clouds of gloom over those you dread. It is
a sin to be sad when you might as well be glad, and it is a sin to be
silent when you might as well be singing.
One song may surpass many a sermon in its power over a life. Great
songs have sung men into battle and stiffened their melting hearts.
Great songs have touched our clay and thrilled it to the divinely
heroic. Songs sung in the stillness of the evening over the baby's
cradle have ever been the mother's consecration for all her sacrifice.
Hymns bring back hallowed memories; a strain of song will touch a chord
no syllogism could sound; the simple words of an old hymn bring comfort
and new hope to hearts broken and crushed.
We may not all make sermons, but we can all sing songs. To make the
good singer there is needed not the artist but the heart. Sing away
the gloom; sing in the gratitude, the joy, and love, and strength; sing
in the courage, the aspiration and hope. Men may reject our sermons,
but they will rejoice in our songs, for they are theirs also. The
creeds change, but the old hymns stand.
Store your memory with the songs that time has tried. The thoughts
that were meat and strength to others shall be your bread in desert
days, your light in darkness. Praise God by a life of happy praise.