“No one says, ‘Where is God my Maker, who gives songs in the night.” [Job 35:10]
Elihu was a wise man, very wise, though not as wise as Jehovah, who finds order in confusion; therefore Elihu, being very puzzled at seeing the afflictions of Job, studied him to find the cause of it, and he very wisely hit upon one of the most likely reasons, although it did not happen to be the right one in Job’s case. He said within himself—“Surely, if men are tested, and tried, and extremely troubled, it is because, while they think about their troubles and distress themselves about their fears, they don’t say, ‘Where is God my Maker, who gives songs in the night?’” Elihu’s reason was right in the majority of cases. The great cause of the Christian’s distress, the reason for the depths of sorrow into which many believers are plunged, is simply this—that while they are looking around, on the right hand and on the left, to see how they may escape their troubles, they forget to look to the hills where all real help comes from; they don’t say, “Where is God my Maker, who gives songs in the night?” We will, however, leave that question, and dwell on those sweet words, “God my Maker, who gives songs in the night.”
The world has its night. It seems necessary that it should have one. The sun shines in the day, and men go out to their labors; but they grow weary, and nightfall comes, like a sweet blessing from heaven. The darkness draws the curtains, and shuts out the light, which might prevent our eyes from slumber; while the sweet, calm stillness of the night permits us to rest on our beds, and there forget for a while our cares, until the morning sun appears, and an angel puts his hand on the curtain, and draws it open once again, touches our eyelids, and commands us to rise, and proceed to the labors of the day.
Night is one of the greatest blessings men and women enjoy; we have many reasons to thank God for it. Yet night is, to many, a gloomy time. There is “the pestilence that stalks in darkness;” there is “the terror by night;” there is the dread of robbers and of sudden disease, with all those fears that the timid know when they have no light with which they can discern objects. It is then they imagine that spiritual creatures walk the earth; though, if they really knew the truth, they would find it to be true, that— “Millions of spiritual creatures walk this earth, unseen, both when we sleep and when we are awake,” and that at all times they are all around us—not more by night than by day.
Night is the time of terror and alarm to most men and women. Yet even night has its songs. Have you ever stood by the seaside at night, and heard the pebbles sing, and the waves chant God’s glories? Or have you never risen from your bed, and opened your bedroom window, and listened? Listened to what? Silence—except now and then a murmuring sound, which seems like sweet music. And have you not imagined that you heard the harp of God playing in heaven? Didn’t you conceive, that the distant stars, those eyes of God, looking down on you, were also lips of song—that every star was singing God’s glory, singing, as it shone, its mighty Maker, and his lawful, well-deserved praise? Night has its songs. We don’t need much poetry in our spirit, to catch the song of the night, and hear the planets and stars as they chant praises which are loud to the heart, though they are silent to the ear—the praises of the mighty God, who holds up the arch of heaven, and moves the stars in their courses.
Man, too, like the great world in which he lives, must have his night. For it is true that man is like the world around him; he is a little world; he resembles the world in almost every thing; and if the world has its night, so has man. And we have many a night—nights of sorrow, nights of persecution, nights of doubt, nights of bewilderment, nights of anxiety, nights of oppression, nights of ignorance—nights of all kinds, which press upon our spirits and terrify our souls. But, blessed be God, the Christian can say, “My God gives me songs in the night.”
It’s not necessary to prove to you that Christians have nights; for if you are Christians, you will find that you have them, and you will not need any proof, for nights will come quite often enough. I will, therefore, proceed at once to the subject; and I will speak this evening on songs in the night, their source—God gives them; songs in the night, their subject—what do we sing about in the night? Songs in the night, their excellence—they are enthusiastic songs, and they are sweet ones; songs in the night, their uses—their benefits to ourselves and others.
I. First, songs in the night—WHO IS THE AUTHOR OF THEM? “God,” says the text, our “Maker:” he “gives songs in the night.”
Any one can sing in the day. When the cup is full, one draws inspiration from it; when wealth rolls in abundance around them, any one can sing to the praise of a God who gives an abundant harvest. It is easy to sing when we can read the notes by daylight; but the skillful singer is the one who can sing when there is not a ray of light to read by—who sings from their heart, and not from a book that they can see, because they have no means of reading, except from that inward book of their living spirit, where notes of gratitude pour out in songs of praise. No one can create a song in the night by themselves; they may attempt it, but they will learn how difficult it is. Let all things go as I please—I will weave songs, weave them wherever I go, with the flowers that grow along my path; but put me in a desert, where there are no flowers, and how will I weave a chorus of praise to God? How will I make a crown for him? Let this voice be free, and this body be full of health, and I can sing God’s praise; but stop this tongue, lay me on the bed of suffering, and it is not so easy to sing from the bed, and chant high praises in the fires. Give me the bliss of spiritual liberty, and let me mount up to my God, get near the throne, and I will sing, yes, sing as sweet as angels; but confine me, chain my spirit, clip my wings, make me very sad, so that I become old like the eagle—ah! then it is hard to sing. It is not in our power to sing, when everything is difficult. It is not natural to sing in times of trouble—“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name:” for that is a daylight song. But it was a divine song which Habakkuk sang, when in the night he said— “Though the fig tree does not bud…yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior” [Habakkuk 3:17-18]. I think while walking through the Red Sea any Israelite could have sang a song like that of Moses—“The horse and his rider has he hurled into the sea;” the difficulty would have been, to compose a song before the Red Sea had been divided, and to sing it before Pharaoh’s army had been drowned, while yet the darkness of doubt and fear was resting on the people of Israel. Songs in the night come only from God; they are not in the power of man.
“This article originally appeared here at Bible Bulletin Board.”
