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God has given us “songs in the night” (Job 35:10) to sing for our encouragement in the midst of darkness. Joseph Smith Van Dyke explains how the Scriptures, and especially the Psalms, are a great source of comfort to believers in the midst of affliction in a volume titled Be of Good Cheer.
Songs have marvelous power over human hearts. Rendering us forgetful of the miseries that environ us, they bear us on wings of hope to a celestial sphere, making us in spirit the companions of angels. Out of earth's worries up through the arches of the invisible they seem to waft us into an ecstasy of delight.
If songs are needed we may conclude that they have been given. Our Father has made provision for supplying our needs. Food needed: food furnished. Fuel needed: fuel supplied. Immortality coveted: immortality an inheritance of which even Satan cannot rob us. Rest ardently longed for: "There remaineth a rest to the people of God." Man desires wealth as the means of procuring future happiness. God enables him to lay up "enduring riches and righteousness in heaven"; and his greed for earthly possessions may be the perversion of a laudable desire. Have we, then, any reason to doubt whether God will sing songs in our nights? He can readily furnish a song. He can teach us to sing. He can produce such a measure of cheerfulness as shall prompt us to give expression to our joyousness.
Who giveth songs? God, our Maker. If the song is given by him who created the soul, who is the Master Musician, who covets its music, who proffers us the opportunity of singing "the song of Moses and the Lamb," then may we be sure that the song will soothe our hearts and inspire undying hopes.
To whom are these songs given? To all who are able to say, "God, my Maker." None are so despondent that their Maker cannot inspire the spirit which will prompt them to sing. None are so girt round by temptation that the Almighty cannot give them a song of deliverance. None have attained such heights of goodness that they do not need a song of praise to the mercy of God. Songs for all, for those of a melancholy temperament and for those of a cheerful, for those who are hopeful and for those who are despairing, for those who are on the hill-top, and for those who are in the valley.
"Songs in the night." The sweetness of a song is enhanced by the time in which it is sung. It has increased inspiration as it comes through the stillness and darkness of the night. Whispering of a time when life's shadows shall be succeeded by noonday, it awakens life, love, sympathy and hope. Songs in the night of poverty, in the night of failing health, in the night of remorse, in the night of affliction, in the night produced by the waywardness of loved ones — in every night however intense the darkness, and however numerous the clouds which produce it.
It ought to be to us a source of joy that our Father wears a title so significant, "He who giveth songs in the night"; for nights come to all, brief to some, reaching down to the grave of others. As the measure of darkness which, in the absence of the sun, comes to each is dependent upon conditions, so the amount of trial which comes to anyone is determined in measure by his surroundings. Hence, we are not fitted to estimate accurately the poignancy of the griefs that come to others' hearts. There are fountains of anguish upon which our eyes are not permitted to gaze. Some springs empty their waters through visible channels, some through invisible, some have no outlet, and their waters become bitter. One conceals his grief; another pours his tale of woe into every listening ear.
Each name and each phrase by which our Maker is designated produces its own impression on the soul. When we think of him as The First Cause, The Infinite, The Ultimate of all Ultimates, we are filled with awe. When we contemplate him as The Just and Holy One, the source of authority, the center of excellency, the fountain of goodness, the judge before whom all must appear, we are prompted to bow at his footstool and exclaim, "God be merciful to me a sinner." When we meditate upon his eternity, omnipotence, omniscience, omnipresence, immutability, we are forced to ask, "Who can understand the Almighty unto perfection?" If we pause to think of him as making provision for man's redemption, as inviting wanderers to accept forgiveness, as proffering endless joy without money and without price, gratitude is prompted to whisper in accents of prayer, "May Christ dwell in our hearts by faith; that we being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge." When we regard him as a companion of earth's sojourners to the beyond, as lifting up those who have fallen by the way, as reviving the faint, refreshing the weary and singing songs of joy during nights of sorrow, we are swathed in emotions which language is incapable of expressing. There is no season of perplexity, no night of grief, no period of gloom in which He is not ready to give needed comfort.
Are the burdens which poverty entails depressing the spirits? For this night God has given songs. If we were to expunge from the Bible the passages which contain comfort for the needy we should find the character of the book changed to no inconsiderable extent. Indeed, abundant is the encouragement given to this class of persons. Consequently the Gospel has won its greatest triumphs among those who were poor in the things of this world, but "rich in faith towards God." Nor need we marvel at this, for the Saviour addressed them with tenderness. Not only in the New Testament, but as well in the Old, we find messages to the poor. In the 68th Psalm we read, "Thou, O God, hast prepared of thy goodness for the poor." It cannot be said that God has not provided for the poor till it has been proved that all the possible products of the soil, judiciously distributed and savingly used, are insufficient for the maintenance of all.
In things spiritual, as well as in things temporal, God "hath provided of his goodness for the poor." In their spiritual welfare Christ was interested. To them He spoke with tenderness. In their homes He displayed His power. From them He gathered disciples. His apostles were fishermen. For the poor it is comparatively easy to realize the fact that worship is with the heart, not with costly raiment and glittering diamonds, not with gold and incense, not with ceremonies and genuflections. When the poor man hears God's voice demanding homage, he knows that the demand means, "Give me thy heart"; for he has little or nothing else to give. It is also easier for him to cultivate a spirit of dependence upon God than it is for those who have tutored themselves to rely in all things upon efforts of their own. Are we not justified then in saying that those who form the purpose of becoming religious after they have acquired wealth would do well to remember that those who are without piety in the season of poverty are likely to be destitute thereof in the day of prosperity? If he does not covet God's presence in the cottage, why should he flatter himself that he will implore the forgiveness of sin if he is permitted to reside in a mansion? He ought to find no difficulty in believing that the agriculturist at the plow, the mechanic at the bench, the lawyer at the bar, the merchant at the counter, and the housekeeper at her occupations, may not only grow in the graces of the Spirit but are especially well situated to exemplify practical Christianity.
I need do little more than remind you that in the night produced by failing health, God giveth songs. He who feeds the ravens, clothes the lilies, counts the hairs of our heads, and notes the falling of a sparrow, will furnish a song for those who find the earthly house of their tabernacle crumbling to decay. To them, the word of the apostle may have special sweetness, "We know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." "These light afflictions which are but for a moment shall work out for me a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."
Those who are filled with forebodings in reference to the future of human society ought to observe the footsteps of God in the history of the world. Having done this they ought to have no difficulty in believing in human progress. The world is working upwards to a higher form of civilization. Religion is becoming more intelligent and more general. It is true, disheartenment may temporarily weigh down the soul as one gazes upon ignorance, superstition, bigotry, cruelty, duplicity and unreasonableness. We should bear in mind, however, that Christ is risen and his resurrection is a pledge of the triumph of truth. To Him The Father has said, "I will give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession." The sea of human society may continue to heave and foam and hiss for centuries to come, but He who calmed the waters of Lake Gennesaret will quiet its billows in his own time. Wars shall cease. Idols shall crumble to dust. Superstitions shall perish. Cruelty shall give place to kindness. "The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea."
To such as have a night produced by a sense of personal sinfulness, our Father sings songs whose sweetness is unparalleled. In Isaiah we read, "I will pardon their iniquities:" "Come, now, let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." So abundant in Scripture is the testimony to God's willingness to forgive sin that the penitent ought to have no difficulty in catching the notes of pardoning mercy. The Psalmist exclaims, "Bless the Lord O my soul and forget not all his benefits: who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingness and tender mercies." "There is forgiveness with thee that thou mayst be feared."
I need do no more than remind you of the Saviour's song of pardoning mercy, "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."
In affliction — one of the departments of God's training school — the listening ear can catch a song which is fitted to produce cheerfulness and resignation. Nor will it be difficult to discover those who, taught by experience, are ready to testify, not only to the sweetness of the songs their Maker gives, but to the fact that the sweetness is enhanced by drawing near the hand that holds the rod. If burdens drive us to him, if human enmity induces us to seek divine love, if waves of adversity prompt us to rest on his bosom, we may succeed in cultivating such a measure of resignation as shall enable us to thank him for whatever He sends — most, perhaps, for the severe. Forth from the fire the tried ones come purified, chanting the songs taught them in the furnace. A mother, bending over her babe and imprinting kisses which elicit no answering smile, is heard whispering between sobs, "The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord:" "It shall not return to me but I shall go to it." Or, in an apartment whose stillness is oppressive stands one whom we imagined no grief could unnerve. Lo! crushed in spirit, he is endeavoring to learn the song which his Father is repeating to him, "As thy day thy strength shall be:" "My grace is sufficient for thee :" "My strength is made perfect in weakness:" "These light afflictions . . . shall work out a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory:" "If ye suffer with me ye shall also reign with me." Experiences of bereavement are so common, however, and songs fitted to produce resignation are so numerous, and occasions which furnish for them avenues to the soul are so many, that I need do no more than remind you that no matter how deep the gloom of sorrow's night, our Maker can furnish comfort. Why then should man be less cheerful than the bird which in winter sings its carol though its mate lies buried in the snow and no crumb is obtainable. May we not sing with the Psalmist, "This is my comfort in my [present] affliction, that Thy word hath quickened me" — hath in past afflictions revived my spirit.
