July 31, Evening

C. H. Spurgeon · Modern retelling

"And these are the singers . . . they were employed in that work day and night." — 1 Chronicles 9:33 · KJV

Well was it ordered in the temple that the sacred chant never ceased: evermore the singers praised the Lord, whose mercy endureth for ever. As mercy did not cease to rule by day or night, so music did not hush its holy ministry. My heart, there is a sweet lesson for you in that ceaseless song: you too are a constant debtor, so see that your gratitude, like charity, never fails. God's praise is unbroken in heaven, your final home; learn now to practice the eternal hallelujah. As the sun scatters his light around the earth, his beams wake grateful believers to tune their morning hymn, so that by the priesthood of the saints perpetual praise is kept up at every hour, swathing the globe in a mantle of thanksgiving and girding it with a golden belt of song. The Lord ever deserves praise for what He is in Himself, for His works of creation and providence, for His goodness to His creatures, and above all for the transcendent act of redemption and every blessing that flows from it. It is always beneficial to praise Him: it cheers the day and brightens the night, lightens toil and softens sorrow, and sheds over earthly gladness a sanctifying radiance that makes it less apt to blind us with its glare. Have we not something to sing of at this moment — our present joys, our past deliverances, our future hopes? Earth yields her summer fruits: the hay is housed, the golden grain invites the sickle, and the sun, tarrying long over a fruitful earth, shortens the shade that we may lengthen the hours of worship. By the love of Jesus, let us close the day with a psalm of sanctified gladness.