| The Every Day of Life |
Chapter 6 |
Page 4 |
Our circumstances cannot always be easy. We cannot always have our own way. There will be many things, in the most favored lot, which would naturally jar upon the chords of our life. But we should learn so to live as to yield only the music of love and peace, whatever our experiences may be.
“Our lives are songs; God writes the words,
And we set them to music at pleasure;
And the song grows glad, or sweet, or sad,
As we choose to fashion the measure.
We must write the music, whatever the song,
Whatever its rhyme or metre;
And if it is sad, we can make it glad,
Or if sweet, we can make it sweeter.”
A perfect holy life would be a perfect song. In heaven this ideal melody will be attainable. There these life-harps of ours will be perfectly attuned, and we shall have learned the lessons of love so well that we shall never strike the wrong note. At the best on earth, however, our lives are imperfect in their harmonies, like instruments not yet in tune. If we are indeed in Christ’s school we are ever coming nearer and nearer in our renewed nature to the perfect divine likeness, and are learning to make sweeter music as the days go by.
We need to learn well the truth that only the Master’s hand can bring out of our souls the music that slumbers in them. A violin lies on the table, silent and still. We know that it is capable of giving out marvelous music. One weak hand takes it up and begins to draw the bow across the strings, but it yields only harsh, wailing discords. Then a master comes and takes it up. First he puts the strings in tune, and then he brings from the little instrument most entrancing strains. Our lives are like this violin. They are capable of producing rich and beautiful melody. But they must be skilful hands that touch the chords.
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