Songs of the Bible. Oliver Wendell Holmes has beautifully said: "If one should give me a dish of sand, and tell me that there were particles of iron in it, I might search for them with my clumsy fingers and be unable to detect them; but take a magnet and swing through it, and the magnet will draw to it the particles of iron immediately. So let the thankful heart sweep through the day, and, as the magnet finds the iron, it will find in every hour some heavenly blessings; only the iron in God's sand is always gold." But David did not strike his harp only for temporal mercies. "I will praise Thee, for Thou hast heard me" -praise for answers to prayer; he has a song for these. "I will praise Thee, because Thy loving kindness is better than life"-loving kindness in giving strength perfected in weakness. Every step of our pilgrimage should have a song for this loving kindness. And then what beliewer has not a song for these mighty works which in all the Earth are glorifying the Architect? You remember the account of our Lord's triumphal entry into Jerusalem: the garments of the people carpeted the way, and their shouts of praise filled the air, and then it says the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works they had seen. 71 company of two millions there rose to Heaven a song of triumph and praise. The day before, you remember, there had been no singing. Hemmed in by the waters and by Pharaoh's pursuing army, Israel had no heart for anything but fears and murmurings. But God had commanded them to go forward; even those deep-rolling waves seemed to oppose any escape from the enemy; and when they obeyed God in the face of the seeming impossibility, there was opened a dry path for them through the sea, and with the pursuing chariots behind them they pressed quickly on, until with the morning's light they stood on the opposite shore, and looking back they saw no enemies, but only the waves which had overwhelmed the chariots and had covered Pharaoh and his host. No wonder that they felt like singing, for all the fears of yesterday had been buried in that sea. I wonder that we read that they sang unto the Lord, for the victory was wholly His. Their only part had been going forward. No wonder that they sang with full hearts, He hath triumphed gloriously;" for of all that mighty army of Pharaoh not one was left alive, and Israel had nothing to fear from Egypt any longer. What grand congregational music, beloved, that must have been, with only God and the angels for listeners! Old and young, parents and children, men and women, all joined in the song, with one heart, for all had been delivered, and with one passion of gratitude, for all recognized God's Christian, stop gazing on self. Stop brooding over your petty trials, and look up and look out on the world, and see what mighty works the Lord is doing. They are spreading their garments on the highway for the coming mighty hand. of the King. The shout of "Glory to the Son of David !" is sounding over all lands to-day and is gathering volume very hour. And have you and I no Song of praise, as prophecy is being every day garlanded with millennial radance, and as all the ends of the earth are seeing the salvation of our God? 3. Then there is a third kind of song in the Bible, and that is the Song of tory. In the early morning twilight an immense host stood on the bank of the Red Sea, and from all of this grand We do not read of any such singing down in Egypt, for they were slaves. there, and slaves never sing of victory, whether they are Pharaoh's slaves or Satan's slaves. There was a time afterward, you remember, when God's chosen ones were in captivity, and their enemies urged them to sing some of the old home songs. But they had no heart and no voice for praise; and so we read that they hung their harps on the willows, saying, "We cannot sing the Lord's song in a strange land." And this explains the fact, which I am sure has surprised many of you, that there are very few recorded instances of victorious singing; for Israel was so constantly forgetting God and turning back to the old idols, that the victories were few and the shout of triumph was seldom heard. I think there was singing when the uplifted arms of Moses brought the victory over Amalek. I think there was singing when faith shouted beside the walls of Jericho, and the shouting brought them to the ground. I think there was singing when Deborah and Barak stood over the dead body of Sisera. There are many Psalms of David which are like a full orchestra of praise; but the majority of them, you remember, are penitential cries, a singing by the road, as by the waters of Marah. And so it is, in truth, brethren, that in the Church to-day the lamentations outnumber the praises; that the defeats are more numerous than the triumphs; that there is more singing by slaves, and on Sundays, too, than there is grand singing by conquerors. Open any of our church hymn-books-take this one, it is a good sample-and look through it in your homes to-night, and see how many songs of triumph you can find between these two covers. Why, the majority of the hymns in this book are of a clinging faith, hymns of trust in the midst of the battle, hymns of hope which anticipate victory, hymns of comfort for the dying, and hymns of aspiration after a closer walk with God. There are few shouts of triumph actually experienced. And so I fear that the average Christian partakes but little of victory, and so has not learned to sing its song. It is often said by preachers and it is a good sample of the preaching by most of us ministers-that we are like warriors fighting for the victory, that share not yet in the shout of them that triumph. Well, now, friends, what a gloomy prospect this is to any believer-fighting, and never conquering; going into the field and into the conflict with no songs, because there is nothing to sing about. Thank God, that while we must put Satan under our feet until death brings the battle to an end, we may carry this host and that host that he sends against us; we may perfume each day's experience with our songs of victory as we leave one and another easily besetting sin dead forever on the battle-field. Israel was a long way from Canaan when this song of triumph rose to heaven. Between that shore, strewn with the dead bodies of the Egyptians, and the Jordan, there lay forty years of sinning and repentance, of murmurings and fightings and tears. But the victory, in the very beginning of those forty years, was a glorious reality. It disposed of Pharaoh, who never troubled them again, and the long pilgrimage which followed that hour never, I think, lost wholly the inspiration of that opening song, "I will sing unto the Lord, for He hath triumphed gloriously." How about your songs of victory, believer? Have you ever had occasion to stop in your march of life, perhaps right on Broadway or in your countingroom, and over some conquered sin set up a pillar on which you inscribed these words: "He hath triumpled gloriously"? You and I sing, and we sing wisely, too Ne'er think the victory won, Thine arduous work will not be done but we can win the final crown of victory only by successive triumphs every day, and hence songs of victory should rise from the smoke of every day's conflict. When Pompey, in the year 61 B. C., returned to Rome the conqueror of the known world, the brilliant procession of trophies only, from every land, occupied two days in moving along the Via Sacra, and at the head of the procession were carried brazen tables on which were enumerated the long list of the nations he had conquered. But it was by a long succession of victories that he reached the height of gloryvictories in Africa, in Europe, in Asia, until at last he held as captives nine hundred cities and a thousand fortresses. And so the Christian can attain the final and complete triumph, whose mighty wave of glory will lift him up to the throne of God, only by 'successive victories, to-day over Pharaoh, tomorrow over Amalek; and though the crown is given only when the last foe lies dead on the Jordan's bank, the songs of triumph, bursting forth in the wilderness, will be an inspiration for to-morrow's battle and the prophecy of final triumph. 4. Then there is one more song I want to call your attention to, and that is the song in the night-time. Two men, with backs bleeding from every mangled vein, lay in a dungeon, with their feet fast in the torturing stocks, and with only a prospect of violent death before them on the morrow. And yet we read that these two men were singing at midnight. Now just look through that dungeon, and see if in its gloomy silence you can find any inspiration for singing; uncover those backs, and see if in that mangled flesh you can see any occasion for praise; lift up those heavy chains, examine those torturing stocks, put your hand gently on those swollen feet, and see if you find anything that would lead a man to sing praises. And yet at midnight Paul and Silas prayed, and sang praises to God. Well, naturally you may ask, "Were they mad, and was this singing the delirium which sometimes follows intense sorrow and pain?" No; it was intelligent singing, as intelligent as if the surroundings had been peaceful and propitions. Well, you may ask, "How can any one sing praises when there is nothing to praise God for?" The world says, be rich and sing; the world says, be successful and sing; enjoy physical health and sing; drink deep of the fountain of human friendship and love, and then you will feel like singing. But when it comes to be midnight, all the world can do is just to stand near you and give you its poor solace of pity as the one thing it has to offer. We draw the curtain, because the very sunlight seems to be an intrusion; we close the musical instrument because its sweetest tunes seem out of place; we clothe ourselves in sable robes, so as to let the world know how miserable we are. Why, in a city close to this, custom has made it nearly obligatory that the shutters should be closed a whole year and the crape hung on the door, as an advertisement to the world of the wretchedness of the family inside. The time is coming some day, friends, when God's children will come under His rule and will be free from bondage to the world, and then Christians will walk and praise and sing as children, not of the darkness, but of the light. "At midnight Paul and Silas praised and sang praises to God." Who does not love music? And the richest music in this world, friends, is the music of the human voice. All the orchestras in this world cannot produce sounds as rich and as persuasive as the song bursting from human lips-lips that have been touched with an inward gladness-whether it be the fisherman of Naples, whose song keeps time with his oars, or the Tyrolese laborer filling the mountain caverns with his sweet echoes of harmony, or the English plow-boy singing as he drives his team, or the Highlander making the glens and moors of Scotland resound with his merry glee. But the richest vocal music is the music that is perfumed with thoughts of God and thoughts of heaven, and the richest sacred music is the music at midnight. You open the history of the experience of God's children; the moment you have done so, you have touched a string that starts the sweetest music on earth. Why, hear Habakkuk: "Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the field shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in penitence if he had not heard the sing. the God of my salvation." Songs at midnight! Do you not think that Joseph sang in the prisonhouse of Potiphar? Do you not think that those three young men sang as they walked through those furnace flames, with a fourth like unto the Son of God? Do you not think that Daniel sang, and that his songs went up from the lions' den? Why, the cells of the Inquisition have resounded with songs of joy; songs have mingled with the breaking of bones on the rack; at the stake, songs have been wafted Zionward with the rising flames. And I love to think that all over this sorrowing world to-night there are songs at midnight songs where wealth has been swept away, because the incorruptible riches are eternally secure; songs on the sick bed, because underneath are the everlasting arms; songs in the valley of the shadow of death, because the rod and the staff comfort and sustain; songs in the chamber where the dear one lies dead, because of the glory unspeakable in which the ransomed spirit is bathed; songs by the new-made grave, because the Resurrection and the Life has lain there too; and songs in the home where there is the vacant seat, because the eternal weight of glory is being fashioned by these afflictions; songs at midnight, believer, because the morning is glorious dawn, and because the stars shine the brightest in the darkness. Now, some one of you may say here to-night: "Oh, if you were to know about me! - my cross is so heavy that I cannot sing." I tell you, believer, there is no heaviness of spirit in the secret place; I tell you there is no darkness when you are walking with one like unto the Son of God. If there were more singing Christians, I tell you there would be more seeking sinners. It was when Paul and Silas sang at midnight that the prisoners heard them, and I think the jailer heard the singing before he felt the earthquake, and I doubt very much if the earthquake would have brought him to ing first. And so I urge you to-night to sing, so that Satan's prisoners may hear you, and bear witness every day to the joy of the Lord that is in you. And if sometimes-for I know how it is myself -if sometimes you feel as if you could not sing-feel like a bird with its wings clipped-just try Paul's method at midnight: And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed, and then they sang praises to God. Just begin to pray; you will find the joy of the Lord rising to your lips, and the song at midnight will be the wings to waft your spirit up to God's throne. I heard a soldier say once on the battlefield, when he was dying: "I can't help singing." Although the bones had been crushed by the terrible, deadly balls, he said he couldn't help singing. And what do you suppose he sang, as ball after ball played over him? He said: "I can't help singing "When I can read my title clear, And as he was singing, he heard a multitude of voices; he had started a whole company in singing that hymn: "When I can read my title clear, To mansions in the skies." And pretty soon, all over that battlefield, they were joining with him in singing that hymn. He couldn't help singing; and it was only a few minutes after that that he joined the choir in heaven. Thank God! we can sing at midnight; and when you and I stop singing because it is midnight, we deny the Master; but when we keep singing, the world looks at us and says, "There is a believer that can sing at midnight." 5. I do not stop, dear friends, except to call your thought (and then leave it there) to the simple fact that there is one more song-and you and I will know more about it by-and-by, and little can I tell you of it now; one more song mentioned in the Bible, and that is, the song before the throne. And only one person ever lived on this earth that heard that song, and that was the apostle John, at Patmos. Have you never strained your ear to hear that song, because, in its glory-swelling hallelujah, there is a voice that used to join with your voice on earth? There are just these facts about that song that I must bring out to you to-night. In the first place, there is an immense company of singers. I heard once, in the Crystal Palace at London, such music as I never expect to hear again this side of Jordan. There were thirtyfive hundred singers and over twelve hundred musicians, and I sat and heard them sing that oratorio of the Messiah; and I hardly knew whether I was here, or in heaven. But it is a grander choir there: ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands form the company that are singing that song. And then there is this other fact about it: it is a new song. I think we can begin to sing it here. I think "Rock of Ages, cleft for me," is a part of it. I think "Jesus, lover of my soul," is another line in it. I think "All hail the power of Jesus' Name" is two or three lines in the song. But it is a new song: it will be new when we cross the flood. Angels cannot sing it; only the redeemed. And, then, it is a tearless song. Did you never sing the old songs of thanksgiving at Christmas in the early home, when, as you sang, just before the children were going away and the family circle was to be separated, you sang some old, familiar hymn, and you saw in mother's eyes the tears beginning to well up? And I can remember a time, in my old home that is sadly broken up now, when we all broke down; for we were to separate, perhaps never to meet again. And that is the way, dear friends, with most of our singing. We hardly welcome dear ones before we say good-bye; and our richest memories today are the songs that were interrupted by the going out. They are tearless songs there, and they are eternal songs. Not a tear ever glistens in the eye, and no one ever goes out. Would you not like to join that choir? Would you not like to stand there and sing those songs before the throne? Thank God for the songs here! Thank God for the memories that, with you and me to-night, reach back and build up again the walls of our early homes! Thank God, that we can sit down and recall to mind the voices that once joined with ours! But, thank God, above all, for that song before the throne! You and I are going to be there, where the congregations never break up. "Ten thousand times ten thousand, Their fight with death and sin; "What rush of hallelujahs Fills all the earth and sky! And all its tribes were made! THE DUTY AND PRIVILEGE OF NATIONAL FESTIVITY. THANKSGIVING SERMON BY HUGH S. CARPENTER, D.D., IN BEDFORD CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, BROOKLYN, N. Y. Then he said unto them, Go your way, eat the fat and drink the sweet, and send portions unto them for whom nothing is prepared; for this day is holy unto our Lord. Neither be ye sorry; for the joy of the Lord is your strength.-Neh. viii: 10. THE fair way to expound the meaning of a Scripture text to its fullest bearing, is to expound it, first of all, in its immediate and contextual reference. There is set out here the privilege and duty of hilarity and material festivity. A hearty meal, a happy treat of entertainment, is a fitting emblem of sound enjoyment. If one intends to thank God in the body, it is with the body that he must thank God. If he is to thank God for his physical existence, he must keep his physical subsistence in condi. |