Another rare morning when I sit and wait for coffee brewing and push the kitchen radio button.

5:10 AM. I will see if I might find a jumpstart for my worship…

Oh. The teacher’s quoting “when the morning stars sang together” (Job 38:4,7), reckoning them angels at creation

—who also chorus praise before the Revelation throne (Rev 7:11-12).

In his survey of Psalms the book, he explains the Hebrew word means songs sung to instrument accompaniment.

Singing at Alpha (Job 38:7; Rev 1:8),

praise-chorusing at Omega (Rev 19:5-7; 22:13),

songs at the center of Inspired Word…

…

So he asks: How often, lately, have you sung to God, other than at church?

My heart delights to answer: “Lately? Everyday!” Yes, lately, everyday.

It is a new thing. Not coerced by discipline—though I have taken thought to interweave song in my worship-pausing “hours.” Not forced, but rising free from heart filled full. Not at daybreak only, but here, amid the day things, and there, even in the heart of night.

We were made to sing—and given such resources for it! Birds’ potential repertoire in contrast shrinks so small. Ours: a range of pitch and tone and volume, from solemn deep to laughter-dizzy high; from tempo dirge-like to clapping-slapping joy-dance flamingly alive. And such a lexicon of praise to choose from, so many permutations of words and notes and time…

…

And here I have another holy “happenstance:”

As I sat in yesterday’s early preserve of quiet, Husband came and knocked on my study door—saying, in voice so earnest, “I need help!” that I pictured mud-wading or weight-lifting emergency.

“Now?” I asked.

“What’s the hymn with “prone to wander, Lord I feel it…”?

What desire he had to remember it—like mine to sing those songs!

I smiled. I’d just sung that lately, when contemplating Psalm 119:35-37.

I’d have to think…

“Give me a minute,” I answered, and started singing phrases, humming the song, piecing the fragments of melody with my remembrance till it came: “Come Thou, Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy grace.”

How fitting to my Now, that yesterday conversation—and my continued singing later then, with “coincidental” praying of the Psalm! How in sync, all that, with the little lesson segment I “just happened” on while coffee brewed this morning—and with yesterday’s continued hymn words: “…Streams of mercy never ceasing call for songs of loudest praise.”

And the song goes on. “Teach me some melodious sonnet sung by flaming tongues above…” And I have just read Psalm 42, whose passion stirs my own heart, always gives me gratitude when I read verse eight (Ps 42:8), revealing His song as my prayer to “the God of my life.”

So my heart goes dancing, rejoicing at God’s weavings, weaving together my little moments with His great speakings and insights from here-and-there fragments in my days.

…

Amazing God of my life, tune my heart to sing Thy grace—and to hear Thy voice when it speaks in these quiet ways.

…

Deep gratitude: for early-morning treasure.

…

To do today:

Read Psalm 42. Or Psalm 119:33-40. And sing!

*****