A visitor to Amsterdam, wishing to hear the wonderful music
of the chimes of St. Nicholas, went up into the tower of the
church to hear it. There he found a man with wooden gloves on
his hands, pounding on a keyboard. All he could hear was the
clanging of the keys when struck by the wooden gloves, and the
harsh, deafening noise of the bells close over his head. He
wondered why the people talked of the marvelous chimes of St.
Nicholas. To his ear there was no music in them, nothing but
terrible clatter and clanging. Yet all the while there floated
out over and beyond the city the most entrancing music. Men
in the fields paused in their work to listen, and were made
glad. People in their homes and travelers on the highways were
thrilled by the marvelous bell tones which fell from the tower.
There are many lives, which to those who dwell close beside them, seem
to make no music; they pour out their strength in hard toil; they are
shut up in narrow spheres; they dwell amid the noise and clatter of
common task work; they think themselves that they are not of any use,
that no blessing goes out from their life; they never dream that sweet
music is made anywhere in the world by their noisy hammering. But out
over the world, where the influence goes from their work and character,
human lives are blest, and weary ones hear, with gladness, sweet,
comforting music.
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