I will sing and make music to the Lord.
Every week some hymn takes up residence in my mind and plays over and over. Occasionally I try to mute it, but for the most part, it is a welcome guest that enriches my day.
I doubt that my Sunday sermons have remained long in congregants’ minds—but Sunday’s hymns have.
Hardly anyone these days reads Martin Luther’s writings—but we all sing Luther’s hymn:
A mighty fortress is our God,
A bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood
Of mortal ills prevailing.
Except for a few seminarians, almost no one reads John Wesley’s sermons today. But we all sing Wesley’s hymns: Christ the Lord is Risen Today; Soldiers of Christ Arise; Jesus, Lover of My Soul; Love Divine, All Love Excelling.
Hymns linger long after the sermon has ended.
Remembrance of the words of a hymn learned in childhood
has often turned a prodigal’s steps toward home.