On Hymns

Last Saturday night, John unwittingly ministered to me by playing hymns.  I think it's neat that he knows how to play the piano to start with, and when he sits down at the keyboard occasionally I feel full of happy pride for him. 

I've mentioned before how much I appreciate some of the newly written hymns, by people like the Gettys.  But I think that when I'm tending toward discouragement it's the old, old hymns which speak to my soul the most.  Those were what John was playing on Saturday night.  We grew up together singing them, and it seems like we haven't sung some of them for a long time.

Maybe some of the lyrics are antiquated and maybe some of the tunes are awkward and difficult to sing.  But maybe we just need to use our minds a little bit more, to expand our vocabularies and to exercise our musical muscles.  Those hymn-writers and tune-writers alike spent much, much time writing and arranging what they wrote, and I think that we'll be guilty of some serious chronological snobbery if we gloss over the vast spiritual resources they've handed down to us.  Let's not merely pause on a few of our favorites and attempt to reword and rewrite the tunes of others just because they are hard.  And certainly let us not ignore the treasures that we have entirely in favor of what has been more recently written. 

Last night, Hymns Triumphant playing on the ipod (which I never thought I'd use!) encouraged my heart while I was cooking.  And on Wednesday, we sung a few old and very good hymns at the opening of prayer meeting which did the same. 

And since He bids me seek his face,
Believe His Word, and trust His grace,
I'll cast on Him my ev'ry care,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer.
 (William W. Walford, c. 1842)

There's nothing like a good hymn.