Turning to the Holy Scriptures, we observe a constant recognition of music in the Old Testament and in the New. Standing on the shores of the Red Sea, Moses, the man of God, chants forth the gratitude of his people after their safe deliverance from Egypt's bondage in song, whilst Miriam, his sister, responds with timbrel and dance. David, the anointed shepherd boy, takes his harp and charms into tranquillity the ferocious spirit of Saul. Elisha, when he would prophesy, calls for a minstrel, and under his playing the prophet's heart grows warm and his lips eloquent with a message from God. And where do we hear of more magnificent renderings than in the temple at Jerusalem, thousands of voices organized in costly choir to chant with accompaniment of complete orchestra, the psalms written by their monarch, David, called the sweet singer of Israel. Cherubim and Seraphim are incessantly praising God in thrice "Holy to the God of Sabaoth," and angels' choirs filled the midnight stillness of Bethlehem's plains. Add to this Zacharias' _Benedictus_ and Mary's _Magnificat_, which have lent their hallowed inspiration to ages since in the Christian Church, and if there is one scene which impresses every reader of his Bible, and to which he looks forward with pure delight, it is the worship of the Lamb in Revelation, the joining of the celestial choir in hymns of endless melody. Desiring to bear our part in that tuneful service, can our lips be silent on earth? Nay, music is one of God's good and perfect gifts, of which to-day's Epistle speaks as coming down from above. True, like all other good gifts to man, it has been seized upon and perverted for evil purpose by the enemy. Satan it is who has levied upon music and made sad havoc in the line of song. But shall we abandon to him the territory? Shall we not make reprisal upon the enemy, consecrate to the divine Giver His first-fruits? And unquestionably, in the worship of our Lutheran Church, hymnology has a larger and a more correct province than in any other body of Christians. I have listened to various music, I have heard entranced the melting tones of the _Miserere_ in early mass at the Catholic Cathedral, the sweetly attuned antiphons of a vested Episcopal choir. I have listened to solos and quartets, accomplished tunes, composed by masters; but what do all these solos, superbly rendered, amount to when in God's worship the congregation itself sits mute in its pews, deprived of every response, as in the Catholic Church, or too indolent to respond, as in many others? Is it Christian, is it churchly, is it consistent with our text or the spirit of true worship, that ninety-nine tongues of a hundred be silent in the house of the Lord? When the minister turns to the people and says, "The Lord be with you," is he supposed to address only four singers and an organist? No, my dear hearers, praise is the duty and privilege of all the people, and to deny or stint them in a share