THE APPEAL OF SONG

Evening Star, Issue 18884, 7 March 1925, Page 15

THE APPEAL OF SONG

[Written by Duncan Weight, for the 1 Evening Star.’] “ Music,” says Acton, “ may bo classed into natural, social, sacred, and martial; it is tim twin sister o£ poetry, and, like it, has the power to sway the feelings and command the mind; in devotion it breathes the pure spirit of inspiration and love ; in martial scenes it rouses the soul to fearless deeds of daring and valor; while it alleviates the cares and enhances the innocent and cheerful enjoyments of domestic life.” “ Music io our fourth great material want—first food, then raiment, then shelter, then music.”—Bovee. Says Sir John Lubbock : “ Poetry and music unite in song. From the earliest ages song has been the sweet companion of labor. The rude chant of the boatman floats upon the water, the shepherd sings upon the hill, the milkmaid in the dairy, tho ploughman in the field. Every trade, every occupation, every act scene ol life, has long had it s own special music. Tho bride went to her marriage, the laborer to his work, the old man to his last long rest, each with appropriate and immemorial music.” Wrote Professor Wilson ; “Music forms the universal language which, when all other languages were confounded, the confusion or Babel left unconfotmded. Tho white man and tho blade man, tho red man and tho yellow man, can sing together, however difficult they may find it to bo to talk to each other; and both sexes and all ages may thus express their emotions simultaneously.” _ Wrote Shakespeare in his day : The man that hath no music in himself, Kor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds. Is (it for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man bo trusted.

Let. renders think of a dreary, cheerless winter in London. An attic of a house in Westminster. Poverty, misery, rags, and dirt. With thin face, pallid features, nut) fluttering bvojvth, tbnt boy oi eigbt is surely passing away. The old story : a drunken Father; n toiling mother. Who is that lady who kneels by the boy on the. bare boards? Suddenly a young due-, tor enters. That very day he had purchased two tickets —one for himself, and one for 1 1 is .sister—to attend a conceit in St. dames's Hall. Mademoiselle Kavarinn was to sing. As. ho watched the kneeling lady mu! the dying patient the words,"' Sing to mo,” fell from the boy’s lips. Gently she presses his trembling fingers, and,‘still kneeling, she sang slowly and softly, ‘ Abirio With Mo. J.bc iuli, rich notes rang through the empty garret : "The darkness deepens, Lord, abide with me.” The smile about the child s bps brightens us she sings, and the lines on the white forehead smooth themselves away. The old familiar words came with a newer and fuller interpretation : “ 0, Thou, who chnngest not, abide with me. Perfect silence for a minute. The dark eyes are, closed, but the smile hovers about the parting lips. An angel’s voice, seems to take up the song, and, sweet and low, the concluding words float through the room ;

11 Heaven’s morning breaks and earths vain shadows flee; In life, in death, 0 Lord, abide with me.” Once again silence reigns. The young doctor, as if in a dream, advances and takes tHe little burden from the, woman s arms and straightens the tiny limbs. She sighs as she rises from her cramped position, ns though wearied with her Jong watching. On his way home, and in the gathering twilight, again the doctor saw the advertisement for the concert that eniiig . “ Mademoiselle Navarino.” What was the great contralto’s triumph compared with "that of the woman in the bare attic ho had just left, who had used her voice to guide a little one through the Valley of the Shadow? ... , At twenty minutes past 8 St. James s Hall is respondent with lights and hill to overflowing. Mademoiselle Navarino is just entering to sing ‘The Lost Chord : a hurst of ‘cheering greets her, and sun stands before the, vast audience bowing her acknowledgments. She is tall and slender; she wears pale grey satin, and diamonds sparkle on her brow and tluoat. As the first notes of her song float througn the hall, full, rich, and tender, at once there vises before the doctor’s eyes the vision of a bare, miserable garret, a. low bod with a child’s worn face resting on the pillow', and bending over him a, woman. AViiat woman? None other than the great contralto —Madame Navarino . Docs the reader ask : “ Is this fact or fiction? That I cannot answer; nor <lo 1 feel specially concerned to do so, because to me the lesson is clear in any ™ se - Manv of mv readers have the gitt ot song? Whv" not gladden hearts tlnu aie sad and wcarv? And why not brighten homes that have dark shadows? barely it is possible to convert the, veiv msi in.'s of life into poetry and song. And, md lee “; we have often seen “ how one lit letoue.i of himrui love and sympathy, philosopher’s stone of old, has Hie P°" ( - of transmitting into gold the common round of this work-a-dny worm. Thomas Carlyle's testimony : Nothin, among the utterances allowed to man is felt to he so divine as music. It bungus nearer the Infinite; we look tor moments across the cloudy elemen s 1 1 the eternal sea of light when song leads and insnires ns. Glorious nations-—all nations that can stillhsten to Hie ma*" <>£ of Nature-have prized, song and i« as the highest; as a vehicle lor prnpheev. and for whatsoever in them was divine The testimony of James Gdmou:r, of Mongolia : “ Tho most novel toatuieof the work 1 noticed was the eagerness displayed to lean, and sing hymns. Some lines poo. old women from whom we could not c.v tract much catechism information about the nnitv in trinity and other theological mysteries brightened up their o d wunklcc faces when asked if they could sin;, and when asked to give ns a specimen o then singing would raise their ciackcc. an (inavci'ino- voices and go through some o the, old and well-known hymns—a good deal out of tune here and there, it is true, but on the whole creditably as regains music, and with an apparent earnestness and feeling that was hard to witness .with dry evr-s. And if the old women filing thus, ‘what of the young people? They simplv revelled in hymns. Billy Dawson was a Yorkshire fanner, and also very popular as a Methodist preacher. On- one occasion he pleached on the nflices of Ghrist as Prophet. Priest, and King. In graphic language he drew a picture of a coronation scene. J hope was a grand procession of prophets, patriarchs, apostles, martyrs to swell tho majestic Irain, Presently, ns the climax of the description, tho preacher broke from Ins sermon and sang with startling effect;

All lia.il the power of Jesus' name, Let. angels prostrate fall; Bring forth the royal diadem To erown Him Lord of all. The crowd caught the inspiration, sprang to their feet, and sang the hymn through with a power that, swelled higher and higher with each succeeding verse. Bv all means let. ns have in pnbhe worship accuracy, precision, and good taste in sacred song; hut may the time never enmo when the singing will bo left to choirs, organs, or paid singers. Never! According to Dean Ramsay, the question “IVlia’s tao preach llio day?” was asked of an old school Scotch beadle.. AVitli a knowing look and a wag of his pow, he said triumphantly: “ I dimia. ken wh.’i’s tae, preach, hat my son’s tae prece.nl.” Quite so. The preaching was of little importance so long as ilm worthy ollicer’.s son was to lead the singing. Twenty miles from camp, and night approaching. A young homo missionary, working for his Master in one of the mining communities of Colorado, found himself in this situation one day, and was beginning to look about him .for a desirable place in which to spend the night, ,when a little way ahead he descried a rude

cabin. Approaching nearer, lie saw it was one of tho poorest of these rough halations, and much of the “chinking” between tim logs had fallen out, rendering the place additionally: uncomfortable. “Such a place as that is surely deserted,” said the young minister to himself ; “and I am inclined to think I would rather sleep out of doors to-night than inside tiiat shell, oven if it shanld prove to bo inhabited by one who would make me welcome..” At that moment the sound of song floated out through the openings .between the logs, and our traveller stopped Iris horse to listen to the man’s weak voice singing that dear old home-song, ‘The Home of the Soul.’ Oh, that home of tho jsoul! In my visions and dreams It’s bright jasper walls I can' fee; Till I fancy but dimly the veil intervenes Between that fair city and me, were tho words which reached tho car of the listened ontsde.

“ I must see the man who can sing hko that in such a place as this,” thought the missionary, riding up to the cabin and alighting from Ins horse. A feeble “Come in!” came from within in answer to his knock; and, entering, lie found hmself in tho one small room of the cabin, which was almost destitute of furniture. In one comer a rude bedstead had been constructed of boards and rude pieces of timber, on which some old blankets were spread; and on this hard bed lay a man evidently very near to death. “Hying alone, in this situation, twenty miles from tho nearest camp, still his look into the beyond seemed so clear, so real, that tho language of the hymn he feebly sang was, indeed, tho language of his heart,” said tho missionary, as he related tho incident afterward. “Ho died that night, and I have never ceased to feel u thrill of thankfulness whenever J think of him that 1 was belated that day, and so enabled to bo with that man when the end came.” Surely that which satisfies a man when dying in the midst of such surroundings is* not a thing to be lightly rejected. When a young man leaves tho home.of his boyhood lie cannot afford to leave the religion of Christ, too. A VETERAN STATESMAN. On tho last Sunday evening on board there was an impressive service in the saloon, and hymns were sung till late. The sight, of AirClludstniin, leaning on the back of the piano, and bonding his head close to the hymn book resting on the top, was very touching. Ho asked for his favorite hymns, among them ‘Lead,' Kindly Light,’ and ‘Abide With Me,' and during tho singing of these hymns Mrs (Hailstone was visibly affected. A Mr Kicol sang ns a solo ‘ Comfort Ye,' and at the conclusion of it shook him by the hand. “We fell,” says the narrator, “ it was a scene to be remembered, and lent to it a pathos all its own.”