Of all the agencies employed to carry the gospel of salvation to mankind none is more effective than the right use of music. Of all the fine arts music is one which we know existed in eternity before time began, "when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." And it will be carried on into eternity after time is no more. Melody and harmony sounded in heaven with the dawn of creation. It will echo and re-echo in the most majestic melodies and richest harmonies when man's salvation and the triumph of Jesus are made complete. Until then, its gentle ministry enhances God's creation with a rare beauty that helps to make our evil earth a bit more like heaven.
Music, however, is the most difficult and fleeting of the arts. The artist with his canvas, brush, and pigment is able to put his art into a permanent form. People may stand before a great painting for many hours if they wish. Its message can gradually sink into the deeps of consciousness. The literary artist creates his lofty poetry, rich with subtle imagery, or pregnant prose that reaches deep into men's hearts. His art too is in permanent form. Anyone who wishes may open the printed page, and peruse it until every nuance of rhyme and rhythm is felt and appreciated, and each shade of meaning has made its impact upon the reader's mind.
These qualities of permanence are entirely missing in music. For one brief moment the musical artist fires the heart of man. The glory of melodic and harmonic beauty floods over him in torrents; then it is gone, to exist no more forever except in the mysterious twilight of man's memory. But, and this is the whole point, if the music is genuine art, the man who truly heard must be forever different
It is around this center that all musical expression revolves. The technique, the skill, and the virtuosity are all radial to the center. The complete wheel we may call art. Art needs all the radiating spokes of technique and musical knowledge, but the hub is sincerity. If this is not made central, the circle is out of balance, like an eccentric wheel. Lowell Mason, in his book Song in Worship, page 7, has this to say:
"In our hymn service we sometimes address our Maker and sometimes our fellow men or our song may be meditative; but to whomsoever addressed, or if meditative, the hymn should be of an emotional rather than of an intellectual character, for such an one only can be properly sung. The most devotional and best hymns are of the same general character as prayer; the same elements are found in both. In both we invoke the name of the Lord; in both we adore, confess, supplicate, give thanks, intercede, and ascribe glory, honor and praise. This is all emotional or heart work."
The use of the word emotion in this discussion does not imply merely transient sensations, such as rage and mirth, but rather the deep creative urges and fundamental drives that play so large a part in lifting man above the brute creation. We might include, as well, those finer spiritual sensitivities that distinguish the creative soul from the unfeeling clod.
In this sense art is largely emotional. Scholarship is intellectual. Because music is essentially a thing of the emotions, it follows that it must proceed from the emotions of the per former to those of the auditor. It is logical that any expression which proceeds from such a deep point in a man must be genuine, or the mendacity will be instantly evident.
This is not to say, however, that artistic singing requires only the elements of sincerity and conviction to make it accept able. Careful tutoring and diligent practice cannot be replaced, but many times the performance of the sincere but untutored singer of pleasing natural voice does a far greater work than that of the trained man who has no convictions.
In pastoral work in the Middle West it was my privilege to hold regular services in one of the State prisons. On the occasion of my first service I arrived before the close of Sabbath school. The final musical number was a vocal solo by one of the inmates. This untutored and unlettered man sang the simple gospel song "Where He Leads Me I Will Follow." The audience was profoundly moved. He sang without instrumental accompaniment. His diction was hindered by a foreign tongue, and there was nothing in the way of tone that one could call beautiful; but when he had finished I saw many of those hardened men drying their eyes with the backs of their hands.
I later learned the singer's story. He was serving a life sentence for murder. Because of good behavior, however, his name was to appear before the parole board. The Catholic chaplain heard that this man was coming to our services. He called this brother into his office, and told him that unless he forsook the Adventist meetings, it would not go well with him when the parole board met. Following his Savior, as he pledged in that song, cost Antonio an extra twelve long months in prison. It is just that kind of sincerity and conviction that brings a song to life, and breathes fire and vitality into its fiber.
Effectiveness in soul winning is of primary concern in the use of gospel songs and hymns. When used as solos they must be sung in a manner that will not detract from their direct ness of appeal. In any case a song that is worth singing is capable of standing on its own without a lot of theatrical drapery. Some soloists seem to have the unfortunate idea that gospel music needs dressing up before it is palatable to the public. The message of many beautiful songs is obscured by overdone gestures.
If the heart of the soloist has been touched and warmed by the love of God, if he genuinely feels the message of his song, if he allows himself to be moved by his own performance, his emotional intensity will be reflected in his tone quality alone, and his audience will not fail to respond.
In the study of a gospel song the words are of paramount importance. These should be so well in mind that the soloist can sing them without fear of what is coming next. Only by a thorough knowledge of his song can he put his mind and heart completely into what he is doing.
"Tell Me the Story of Jesus," by Fanny Crosby, is one of the simpler gospel songs. This much should be sung in a subdued and meditative manner:
"Tell me the story of Jesus, Write on my heart every word, Tell me the story most precious, Sweetest that ever was heard."
When the fifth line is reached the mood changes rather abruptly. Here is a picture of the angel host singing as they welcome the birth of Jesus. It should be sung joyously, radiantly, with full voice:
"Tell how the angels, in chorus, Sang as they welcomed His birth, Glory to God in the highest, Peace and good tidings to earth."
The second stanza sketches in the desperate struggle with the tempter in the desert, and might be indicated vocally by a quiet kind of intensity which emphasizes the dramatic quality of the consonants and concludes with a frank avowal of triumph.
"Fasting, alone in the desert, Tell of the days that He passed, How for our sins He was tempted, Yet was triumphant at last."
The third stanza might begin mezzo forte
"Tell of the cross where they nailed Him, Writhing in anguish and pain; Tell of the grave where they laid Him, Tell how He liveth again."
Sing this with a deep intensity, emphasizing the consonants. As it is sung let the imagination play over the scenes the poem describes. This is very important. The singer must visualize the scene in his imagination, and feel it before he can sing it with power. The last part of the third stanza should be sung quietly and tenderly. The refrain should always be sung simply and in a prayerful attitude.
"Face to Face" is another number that could he used considerably more than it is. In the first place, and this should apply to all solo work, the song should be transposed to a key that is comfortable for the individual's vocal range. Before the singer will be able to present this song with all the artistry and depth of emotion required, he must search his own heart, and find that the greatest longing of his life is the desire to see his Savior face to face.
The refrain in this hymn should always be sung joyously, with a decided note of triumph. This would also be the way each stanza ends, but the various parts of the stanzas will be colored by the particular experience which is being described. For example, the second one begins, "Only faintly now I see Him, with the darkening veil between." This should be done in a quiet, subdued manner, with a gradual crescendo through the remainder of the stanza, which says, "But a blessed day is coming, when His glory shall be seen." The third stanza is radiant with hope. The fourth can be almost overwhelming. Here one stands face to face with the reality of Jesus' presence. This should carry the soloist completely out of himself, as in imagination he stands in glory with his beloved Lord whom he has longed to see these many years.
In any consideration of interpretation most people are inclined to think in terms of loud- ness or softness. This is only the beginning. The force of the words, the tempo, the dynamics, the background against which the song is sung, as well as the purpose for which it is done—all have their influence upon the success of the soloist's work.
The force of the words have already been considered in some detail. The matter of tempo also needs careful study. A song of a meditative character must of necessity have a somewhat slower tempo than a song of praise or rejoicing, but never should the tempo be allowed to drag until there is no life or movement in the production. The danger of singing a contemplative type of song too slowly is usually much greater than the risk of singing it too rapidly. No matter what the rate of tempo, there should be in every song a definite sense of movement, of progression, a feeling that the song is going somewhere.
This can be accomplished by means of a certain regularity in the rhythm. A metronomic type of rhythm is not necessary, only one which stays within the boundaries of good taste. There are places in every song where the basic tempo will be accelerated or retarded as the mood of the words suggest. In no case should one go to extremes in either direction merely for the sake of effect. Too many times gospel singing is ruined by a singer who insists on landing upon a note that shows off his voice to particular advantage and staying there until people of good taste are offended. One should feel that the rhythm is a flexible constituent of the song: it can be stretched a little one way or contracted a little the other, but never so much as to pull the composition out of shape.
Far too much gospel singing lacks character. Too many times it is nothing more than sweet words set to a sweet melody and sung by a sweet voice, without any individuality or attempt at forceful interpretation. Singing must serve a much greater purpose. It must reach down into human lives beyond the point reached by mere words.
No human instrumentality can penetrate more deeply or induce a more profound sense of one's own sinfulness. Listening to a singer who is aware of his work and who is being used by the Holy Spirit can be a very searching experience. Never should the evangelistic or church singer feel that his work is unimportant. Never should his singing degenerate to the level of mere entertainment. People must be made forever different because they heard him sing.
There is no royal road to effective singing. It is loaded with painstaking practice, work, and self-discipline. It demands vital living, positive thinking, and consecrated purpose. The singer must be dynamically aware of beauty and ugliness, joy and sorrow, pathos and radiant experience. He must live life at its highest and best. He must spend time with his tools, time with his instrument, and above all, time with his God.
