Music is as much a part of our inner life as the golden juice is part of the orange. It is a natural utterance of a deep-seated emotion and feeling too deep for words. David gave evidence of understanding this mysterious means of expression when he said, "I will open my dark saying upon the harp." Ps. 49:4.
There are thought streams that cut their channels far below the surface of the persons we seem to be. The soul reaches out to these hidden springs of the inner life, for the draft that cools parched lips and satisfies burning thirst. Surface streams will never steal the preference humanity holds for the fountain.
As we recognize the vital contact between the inner life and music, how can we doubt that "the mountains and the hills shall break forth . . . into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands"? Isa. 55:12. When we experience the plea, "Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me," then we find that "He brought me up also out of a pit of noise [margin]. . .. And He hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God." Ps, 51:10; 40:2, 3.
A flood of praise will cover our whole experience when the "fountains of the deep" are broken up. A heart of flesh for a heart of stone brings a train of exalted thoughts to take the place of selfish desires. It should not be how much glory and praise I can gather for myself, but what degree of honor and praise I can direct to Him to whom all honor and praise are due. "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." 1 Cor. 13:1.
The farther we get from the world, the more our ways will be questioned. Our music aawell an our,doctrines will 15e criticized. If we would be separate and apart from the world, we must give serious study to higher standards of artistic expression and to a far more careful selection of music. We must put the message first, with a seriousness not surpassed by that of the ministry.
Music is a servant, and to do its most effective work it must remain in this field. The artistic standard of the world is a false one for church service, because by that standard the message becomes secondary. As the difficulties of the score increase, praises to the performer multiply. The more the congregation is impressed with the beauty of the voice and the music, the longer it will remember the singer. But the message must come first; it is of primary importance. Not the singer, but the song! Not the preacher, but the message! Hide behind the message; don't let the message be obscured behind you.
Such a wholehearted, consuming passion to give the gospel in all its beauty, through song, backed by wholly consecrated lives, will enable God to bless our music in the saving of souls for His kingdom. The performance should not steal the glory from the message, but the message, with its deep-sinking, convicting truth, should eclipse the music and make it almost forgotten in the sweeping power of its service.
Everywhere the Biblical record testifies to the importance of God's message. Men have been burned alive, all for a message. They laid down their lives, but the message went on. Of what value is a man without a message? The message makes the man. It also makes a people. Then why not emphasize the message in our songs? Too much of the music we use lacks the definite denominational touch, because the theme of the words is usually molded to match the church service of any belief.
An inferior voice with a soul-stirring message is far superior to a soul-stirring voice with an inferior message. It is not the plate, but the food; not the cup, but the water. An editor of a prominent music magazine was camping one summer in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Sunday morning came. He left his tent and sought the nearest mountain church. In a seat near the door he listened to the service. A young woman arose to sing a solo. Little did she realize whose ears would hear her voice that morning. The distinguished visitor, commenting editorially in his magazine, described her singing as unaffected and convincing, the sweetest and most satisfying he had ever heard. Here was an untrained voice, but not an untrained heart.
Sincerity's breath perfumes the room like a handful of lilies of the valley. Our talented singers are few; but of sincere, wholehearted singers there are many among us whose common voices may perform an uncommon task. The blessing of God on a mediocre voice is worth far more than the buttonholed praise of the world for an accomplished one.
It has not always been the highly trained who have been entrusted with the major responsibility of carrying God's message to the world. Even though they had seeing eyes, their often-blinded hearts unfitted them for it. "The common people heard Him gladly," and upon them He laid the duty of warning the world. Herein lies a secret of power open to us. May our prayer be, not for wonderful singers, but for complete consecration of what we have.
