Ephesians 5:19

The Song Of The Heart

Singing and making melody with your heart. Ephesians 5:19.

That seems an odd thing to say, doesn't it? “Singing and making melody with your heart.” Perhaps you think St. Paul made a mistake and that he meant to say “singing and making melody with your voice.”

But St. Paul was right. The best song of all is the song of the heart. It is a song we should all sing, only we have forgotten the secret, and we find it again only when God touches our heart.

Now this seems rather difficult to understand, so I shall tell you a story that will make it easy for you.

In the little town of Freiburg there is an old cathedral which contains a wonderful organ. One day a stranger came to the cathedral and asked permission to play on the organ. But the old man who looked after the place refused to let him play. He told him that no stranger was allowed to touch the organ.

However, the visitor pleaded so long and so earnestly that at last the caretaker gave his consent. The stranger seated himself at the organ and soon the cathedral was filled with the most wonderful music. Never had the great organ produced such marvelous melody. Tears ran down the old man's cheeks, and at last he laid his hand on the musician's shoulder.

“What is your name?” he asked. And when the other replied, “Mendelssohn,” the old caretaker could only exclaim, “And to think I refused to let you play on my organ!”

Boys and girls, our hearts are just like that organ. They are splendid instruments meant to produce beautiful music, but they await the touch of the Great Musician. Only when He touches them can they “make melody.” Without that touch they are dumb or they only make discord.

Perhaps some of the older boys and girls know the name of Caedmon. Caedmon was a monk who lived in the seventh century and he was our earliest Anglo- Saxon poet. There is a story told of how Caedmon came by his gift of poetry. You may like to hear it.

In his youth Caedmon was the cowherd of the Abbey of Whitby, and it is said that he could neither sing nor make verses. In those days it was the custom to pass a harp round the company after the day's work was over so that each might contribute his share to the evening's entertainment. But whenever the harp appeared Caedmon used to slip away because he could neither sing nor play.

One evening, when the harp had been brought out as usual, the cowherd took refuge in the stable, and as he was tired with his day's work he presently fell asleep. In his sleep a stranger appeared to him and commanded him to sing. The monk replied that he could not sing and that that was the reason why he had left the entertainment. But the stranger still commanded him to sing. “Sing,” said he, “sing the beginning of created things.” And presently Caedmon found himself singing verses in the praise of God, verses which he had never heard. From that day onward he became the poet of the monastery, and men said that the gift of God's grace in his heart had brought with it the gift of song.

Now, boys and girls, that all happened so long ago that it may be a bit of a legend. But still there is a great truth in it. Our hearts cannot sing the song God meant them to sing until we let Him touch them with His grace. He can make the most of us. He can make the best of our gifts and abilities. He can bring melody into our lives.

Remember the story of the old caretaker and how he almost missed hearing some of the most wonderful music in the world. We, too, may refuse the Great Musician, and the world will be a sad and tuneless place for us. But let us give Him permission to use our hearts as He will, then not only will they “make melody,” but all our lives will be “one grand, sweet song.”