OUR MINSTRELS

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 73, Issue 370, 13 September 1930, Page 13 (Supplement)

OUR MINSTRELS

MUSIC IN THE HEART. (By H.G.G.) “Perhaps one human being in a thousand is absolutely impervious to music; the rest, no matter how crude, cannot bear ‘The Last Post’ or ‘le Chant du Depart,’ or a good organ, or a girl’s song in a warm evening, without a beginning of intoxication which differs only in degree from the mental condition in which Shelley produced the ‘Skylark.’ ” But apart from these occasional experiences and impressions most of us cultivate some means whereby we can rise, for a while at least, out of the ruts and grooves of life. They are at our hand to enrich our lives in every part, to inspire us for the noblest and the best, to minister consolation in grief, to strike the chord for victory ’s song in temptation and trial, to cause the Sun of Righteousness to rise with healing in His -wings in the murky gloom of doubt. They are as the minstrel whom Elisha once caused to be brought from the camp of Israel: “And it came to pass, when the minstrel played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him.” What your minstrel should be, I do not know. I .cannot prescribe for you, because of course, 1 only know my own. But an investigation into the means employed by others may help us to find fresh minstrels for ourselves. Sand-Pit and Garden. Richard Jeffries in “The Story of | My Heart,” tells how he would lie in a sand-pit, listening and absorbing, through a long summer day, until he became conscious of the Being in which both man and God were merged, the ultimate reality, more worshipful than the forms of our thought and the resources of our language are able to express; and found himself engaged in an act of ultimate devotion, when he designed only the observation of the minute things of nature. To many, however, the creepy, crawly things of the sand-pit would i bring nothing but shuddering and repulsion. Their minstrel is found otherwhere. Some find that in their garden they have a speaking oratory and a call, changing with the seasons, but always the same in its burden, to “draw nigh to God” and to let Him “draw nigh to them.” A poet-gardener sings: “The fool maintains that God is not. Not God in gardens when the eve is coo]? Nay, but I have a sign: ’Tis very sure, He walks in mine.” Scenery and People. Of course to some people that is ar rant nonsense. They can conveive of no revelation or inspiration apart from the constant contact with men and women in business and pleasure and social intercourse, in meetings and services and conferences. They must be continually up and doing among the peoples of the world.’ This is eloquently shown by Ralph Connor in “The Major.” The doctor’s daughter is shown a wonderful view of rugged grandeur bathed in moonlight. In answer to Larry’s impatient, “Jane will you not get wild over it?” comes the query: “Why should I get wild over it? Oh. I know you think, and papa thinks, that I am awful. He says I have no poetry in mo. and perhaps he is right.” Not the moon, nor the glory of the landscape with all its wonder of plain and valley and mountain peak could awaken Jane to ecstasy. Shortly after this, however, she meets an old friend and is kindled to a hot enthusiasm by her rare loveliness and sweet simplicity. “Well, Jane, you are funny.” says Larry. “You rave and go wild over Kathleen, and yet you keep quite cool over that most wonderful view.” “View!” says Jane contemptuously. “No, wait, Larry, let me explain. I do think it all very wonderful, but I love people. People, after all, are better than mountains, and I they are more wonderful too.” In The Glasgow Gallery. Let us not despise each other’s means of grace. We only make a mistake and we make it far too often, when we are tempted to deny that our brother ’s minstrel can speak to him of God because his music sounds only earthly in our ears, or because we can discern no music whatsoever. You see, it is really the listener’s heart that makes the minstrel’s message. 1 will remember standing in rapt meditation before a piece of statuary in the Glasgow Gal- i lery. It depicts a man undressing his little daughter on the night of the burial of the wife and mother. Tho' child seems entirely oblivious of her loss as she plays on the father’s knee.: The man has a far away look' as he ' pauses with a little stocking in his 1 hand. The eyes go back ——• the past and see all the scenes of love-making , and home building. They look into the unknown future so full of dread emptiness and baffling sorrow. The unheeded minutes sped as the poignancy of the problem of suffering and sorrow gripped my heart. My mind was formulating thoughts of the wonderful Motherhood of God. when there came a rudo awakening. An army chum, who had wandered all over the gallery while I stood before the one piece of statuary, cried in my ear; “What time shall I ask for reveille to sound?” God Gid not touch him in the whole of that building. Yet as we walked through the ruins of an old cathedral at Elgin tho presence of God subdued and mellowed him and filled his soul with divine music. Solitary and Social. The old adage, “What’s one man’s meat is another man’s poison,” is very true of things spiritual. What inspires one with a sense of the Divine may leave another cold or even repulse some one else. To some the wide spaces of

the country have an irresistible charm and appeal. To others a day in the fields is boredom and 9 week or more the prelude to purgatory. What music many have found in that gracious invitation of Jesus: “Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place and rest awhile.” It is as though He and they must fee] the need of withdrawal and the call for the minstrels of the quiet place. But let us not forget, He chose twelve “that they might be with Him.’’ 4< esus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.” Not alone in the solitudes but also in the companionship of man did Jesv know also the companionship of God. Happy the men and women who have a Christ-like balance and find minstrels everywhere.