The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1874-01-03

We have, in search for high art, dele
gated our thanksgiving to paid singers
and we praise God by proxy.
My friends, these things ought not so tt
be. We should all sing. Let the choi
lead, and all join them in the solemn psalm
or cheerful song of thanksgiving. l an
aware that congregational singing is view.
ed with disgust by many. 1t is sometimes
very bad, and offends more than elevates
| This need not be so if one or two rules are
observed Let me give them to you.
Firstly-Let all sing, young and old.
No matter how badly it sounds to you,
sing away, catch the melody and sing with
confidence.
Secondly-Do not attempt to sing tenor,
alto, or bass, give up these parts. and join
the sopranos in singing the air or melody.
OF course, the gentlemen will sing it one
octave lower than the ladies'. The organ
will give the harmony, the voices the song.
By the aid of these rules our singing will
be easy and effective.
Now, to help you, will have the mel
ody played upon cornet. This instru-
ment is loud, penetrating, and easily fol-
lowed. The instrument and organ will
play the tune over, and, then, after an
instant's pause, all join in singing"
If thunderbolt had split the gilded
cockerel on the steeple, and rung the fire.
alarm bell, we could not have been more
electrified. The people with one consent
sat down in a puddle of discomfort and
horror. Deacon Squaggles leaned his head
on his hand and groaned aloud. Parson
Mildmay looked dubious, and we were
variously much shocked. The organ and
the cornet began. 1t sounded well, and
some of us were inwardly set up with
much Joy. Then the congregation rose as
one man, resolved to extinguish the desc
Grating instrument-resolved to sing the
thing down.
We sang Old Hundred through twice.
Such tremendous volume of tone had
never been heard in the church before.
The grand old tune fairly shook the house.
When it was finished we sat down. !
looked around, and found the deacon's
wife wiping her eyes furtively. Some
irreverent person raped on the floor with
a cane-just timid little rap, applause
certainly. Deacon Pipple's little boy said
audibly, "Hurrah wasn't that bu-."
The last word was extinguished by faith
er's hand.
The parson read two verses of another
hymn. His voice trembled, and he seemed
peculiarly happy. That splendid old tune
of Christmas" by Father Handel, was
played. Handel believed in horns and
trumpets. When the glowing melody rang
bravely through the church everybody rose
and seized their hymn books with ardent
determination to do their best.
Everybody sang. Who could help it j.?
The ringing tones of the trumpet bore
everything along with it. At the inter-
lude between the verses there was a pro-
found hush. The people felt that at last
they were really praising God with heart
and soul. The second verse was even
more successful than the first. EVERYBODY
felt warmed up to the work. The congre-
cation had made discovery. 1t could
sing.
When it was over Parson Mildmay lean
ed over the desk and said " Brother Squag-
giles let US sing all the verses
We did. From that night congrega-
tional singing and the cornet player were
a fixed part of our service. AT first, /
said, it nearly split the church. The choir
resigned designation not accepted, and
small tempest ragged for two weeks among
the people. The church was divided into !
ornetists and anti.cornetists. The cor
btists carried the day. The storm clear
e, and now all is serene. The unsold pews
loud a market. Seats in the church be-
Gale scarce. Even the gallery filled up,
anderson Mildmay is happy over large
and rowing congregation. The dear old
deacss lament the cause, but rejoice in
the pisperity Of the church. /
T,1o