A CONSECRATED CHOIR by Mrs. H. W. Masters

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Nov 14, 1892

A CONSECRATED CHOIR.

By Mrs. H. W. Masters

MARCH in New Hampshire, and the snow was beginning to melt from off the hills, and the rivers to roar with their increase of water.

H. was to have a new minister, consequently was somewhat wrought up with expectation. The matrons of the church were busy as bees, overseeing the cleaning and necessary renovations of the parsonage; for its expected occupant was a bachelor.

The various committees on reception met to report; but the busiest and most important of all was the choir; and the heavy spring air conveyed the fact to half the town that hymns, chants, and anthems were receiving faithful practice.

Edith Russell entered the church, and with a sigh of relief to see that it was empty, seated herself at the organ. Without consulting anyone she was resolved to introduce into the present plain service elaborate musical changes, recently seen and admired during a visit to a cousin in a neighboring city. This was her first opportunity of running her selections over on the organ.

"The voluntary this time will be sung," she mentally asserted, "but the recessional I shall play, and the offertory, too." A little frown puckered her smooth forehead for a moment when she came to consider that in numbers there is strength, and that, perhaps, if she had enlisted more than herself in this undertaking there would have been a greater possibility of it being permanently successful. Not being a singer she had entirely overlooked vocal offertories; but there was no time now to make changes; she would run the risk of bearing alone all the displeasure she might incur. At this moment chorister and choir came in, and the anthem was immediately taken up.

At the close of the rehearsal, Mr. Stutes, the leader, and an admirer of Edith as well, walked home with her. Edith now confided to him her plan for the coming service, and received not only consent but his hearty encouragement.

Mr. Hart, the new minister, did not arrive till late Saturday night—too late, in fact, for the reception to have been given in his honor, which was postponed until the following Monday evening.

Edith had hoped to see him before time for service, though any uneasiness she felt concerning what he might think of her meddling in the regular established order of service of the church in H., was quieted by the knowledge that gentlemen always agreed with her, and helped her to have her way. But an informal gathering of officials and the prominent members of the church at the parsonage prevented even a word between minister and choir, and the bell was on the last stroke before he entered the church.

Edith could hardly decide whether she should be able to sway this self-contained looking man, to whose appearance a slight baldness, and the very expert use of spectacles, added dignity even to society.

He listened attentively to the remarkably well-rendered voluntary anthem, but the congregation forgot the choir in the wonderful prayer and brilliant comments on the Bible lesson that followed. Each member from the first felt the influence of this spiritual mind, that had no purpose other than that of feeding his Master's flock.

Somehow, even to Edith, Schumann's "Happy Farmer" sounded out of place as an offertory. But never before had these minor services, as Edith termed the reading of the hymns and Bible lesson, seemed so sacred and important. She, however, comforted herself that these uneasy feelings came from a nervous apprehension as to how her innovation would be received by the church in general.

The sermon was an exquisite delineation of Christ's tenderness and love, and, although Edith was touched by its gentleness, she could not keep her thoughts from wandering to her own part of the service and its results. Thus the emotional, the strongest part of her nature, was closed to an appeal that otherwise must have moved her by its spiritual force. The closing hymn and benediction seemed like a dream, so intent were her thoughts on the probable effect of the recessional. She saw that Mr. Hart started and almost frowned when she struck the first chords of the brilliant march from one of our popular operas; involuntarily she shut off the trumpet stops, and took her foot off from the bass pedal.

Mr. Hart showed immediate energy in meeting with his various church committees; he unhesitatingly accepted the position of president of the Music Committee, although time out of mind his predecessors had refused that honor. Before the next choir meeting he had called on Edith, and, in the kindest manner possible, asked that the organ service might be omitted for a time. Edith was not only mortified by the request, but angry.

"Anyone would think that he wore a miter, instead of being a licensed preacher," she exclaimed to her mother upon his departure.

Edith's mother was one of those Christians whose constancy never fails to sustain uplifted hands; her softened explanation, "He only asked you to wait," quieted Edith. But the dim consciousness that she had taken from rather than improved the service, made Mr. Hart's words seem a reproof rather than a request.

The young people, who had been delighted with this addition to the service, were loud in expressing their disapprobation at its discontinuance. Edith found it impossible to give them the real reason for giving it up. Mr. Hart was present at the next choir meeting,

and in giving the leader the list of hymns, said:—

"I have selected these hymns because if rightly rendered they will aid in gathering the congregation into unity of spirit, and bring them into sympathy with the truths I hope to be able to present. Believe me," he continued, "we have missed the grand object of music in the church service when it fails to awaken its hearers to a consciousness of sin and a desire for a higher and purer life. Souls come to God's house to be fed; and we cannot be too careful that the food is brought directly from our Father's storehouse. We cannot expect sober, Christian thoughts as a result of worldly music. And," he added, "I lay this burden upon you that you are in a sense as responsible for this church spiritually as I am."

Edith's fingers trembled so that she could hardly play the simple measures of "Rockingham." She had accepted the position of organist because she knew she could fill it better than anyone else, and for social reasons. Her whole being revolted at the thought that she was held accountable for the weal or the woe of the church. Yet she was a professing Christian, and in moments of unusual zeal and ardor had contemplated going as a missionary to the heathen. True, if she had any special gift, it was music; but it seemed so strange to work for the salvation of souls through an organ. She had often thought how beautifully she could talk of Christ to the sinful, the sorrowful; even the unfeeling might be touched; but she had never thought of making music the instrument for the accomplishment of so grand an object. Now she really felt surprised that she had not thought of it unaided, understanding the wonderful power of music as she did, through its effect upon herself.

She did not tell her mother what Mr. Hart had said. She felt certain that if she repeated it she would resign at once, and she wished to consider this new method of doing good before she gave the opportunity to another.

She evidently had been more impressed than any other member of the choir, for, as she quietly took her place Sunday morning, Mr. Stutes laughingly inquired, "Can you play as well as the parson can preach?" but he received no flippant answer.

Mr. Hart looked apprehensively towards the choir. He realized that his talk of Friday evening had not been received in the spirit he had hoped it would be. Edith's impassive face neither increased nor allayed his anxiety; but before the first hymn was played through, he took courage to believe that he had been understood by at least one of his choir, so sweetly and impressively was it rendered.

Later on Mr. Hart preached a wonderful sermon upon consecration, and in the great awakening that followed, the little church at H. came to know the power of a consecrated choir.—New York Observer.