Great Praise

“The Lord is great, and greatly to be praised.’ Psa xcvi. 4.

THE only way to attain to great praise is by contemplating the greatness of God, to whom the praise is offered. We have new conceptions of the values of things when we are consciously in the presence of the Divine glory. Things which pass muster in a worldly consciousness are revealed as poor deficients ’’ when they are paraded in the radiance of the Eternal Light. It is like as it is with garments. There are garments which appear almost new on a gloomy day, but if the sunshine should chance to leap out for an hour the garments look very seedy, and we are inclined to make our way through quiet streets. And when our minds are not possessed by the wonderful sense of God’s greatness, much of what we call praise may seem very fine and very finished, and we may describe it as splendid or magnificent; but when we get a glimpse of the glory which dwelleth between the cherubims, it may all seem very mean and tawdry. It may appear as stage scenery does when it is brought from the obscuring rays of the limelight into the blaze of the all-revealing light of God’s noon.

And yet there are bits of human praise which God loves to hear and see, and for the reason that they are altogether lovely. It is praise that shares something of the strength and beauty which pervade the adoration of the saints around the throne of God. It is the sincere expression of holy contemplation and desire. It is filled with the exhilarating gratitude which springs from sacred joy. It is the natural speech of the redeemed. It is the rhapsody of love in the presence of the Beloved. And when praise is thus natural and sincere it has become as instinctive as the songs of birds at the dawn.

It is therefore the merest commonplace to say that great praise is not primarily a thing of material means, however cultured they may be, however exquisite, however faultless in their refinements. Great praise is not to be judged by the excellences of concords and sweet sounds. And all this is said not to disparage or in any way undervalue vocal and instrumental loveliness. It may be that the truly praiseful spirit will go out in search of adequate means for the expression of its own waiting moods. It may be that it will seek accompaniments in the form of disciplined voice or choral fellowship or in psaltery and trumpet. But great praise is not necessarily in these things, and it can certainly do without them. Praise which is praise indeed is first of all found in the songs and melodies of the soul. And so it happens that there can be the richest choral harmonies in a Quaker meeting-house, where there is no organ and no choir, and where the stillness is not broken by any sound of hymn or psalm. I can well imagine that to the fine apprehension of heavenly listeners wonderful strains of praise are heard in these silent fellowships. For praise consists in high thinking and deep feeling. It moves in reverence and adoration and thanksgiving and holy joy. And praise is great wherever reverence is great. Praise is great wherever adoration lays hold of heavenly things. Praise is great where love whispers deep secrets in the hearing of the Beloved, in whose astonishing grace it was first of all born. And so it is that this kind of praise goes on when public worship is over and the church door is locked and the congregation has gone away home. The vital praise is in the heart of the worshipper, and as he goes home its magic transforms dull streets into cathedral aisles; and next day it fills the workshop, which may be the home of clatter and clamour, with ethereal harmonies. I always pause, with a little hesitancy, when I reach those two familiar lines in one of our noblest hymns : —

* Life’s duties we must meet again,
We cannot at the shrine remain.”

There is something here which seems to separate the duty and the shrine, but in subsequent lines the divorce is rescinded; for in the deepest sense we can remain at the shrine, even when we have left it, and the incense can be rising from our altars as ceaselessly as the adoration of the angels, of whom it is said, “‘ They serve Him day and night in His temple.”

A great spirit takes its great praise into its duties. Nay, what is great performance of any duty but the soul at its shrine, bowing in a blessed concordance with the Divine will? ,A great fulfilment of duty, however forbidding the duty may appear, especially when the fulfilment is accompanied by a hidden joy, a joy like a nightingale singing in the inner depths of a gloomy wood, is surely great praise. And all this is true of every virtue which has warmth in it, and radiance, and which goes singing on its way. Without the praise in it any virtue has something dull at its heart, but with praise in it the greyest virtue has a secret melody which arrests the heart of God. For instance, here is a virtue to which the New Testament gives conspicuous rank. It calls it “long-suffering.”” But long-suffering may be a very cheerless thing, like a sombre church tower without a belfry. But what about this combination which I find in one of the letters of the Apostle Paul! He speaks of “Jong-suffering with joyfulness.”” There you have the belfry in the tower! There the plainly-feathered bird becomes a songster — a lark, singing at the gates of heaven. That is surely great praise.

But this great praise may not only be expressed in splendid duties, in noble virtues, and in chivalrous moods; we can surely take our praise into our frivolities. When jest and quip are flying about, or when we become so light-hearted as to be almost light-headed, the incense at the secret shrine may still be rising. Even the frivolous may have a sort of natural opening into the eternal. ‘How gloriously some men can play the fool! I am thinking of one now as I write. What a saint he is, and what a splendid fool! But somehow or other, when he puts on the cap and bells, and the boisterous fun begins, his soul does not put off its knightly armour. There is knighthood at the very heart of his frivolity. He is a great gentleman, even when he is a glorious fool. There is a doxology at the soul of his comedy, and his praise to God can use the ministry of cleanest laughter. Yes, even in this way we can rejoice in the Lord, and even in the playfields of life we can still be at the shrine.