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Ruins of a church at Nimreh, in the mountain district of the Hauran. The three arches shown in the cut are parts of a system once supporting a flat roof above a three-aisled The church had also a stair-tower.



Published Monthly by Funk & Wagnalls Company, 354-360 Fourth Avenue, New York.

(Adam W. Wagnalls, Pres.; Wilfred J. Funk, Vice-Pres.; Robert J. Cuddihy, Treas.; William Neisel, Sec'y.)


JULY, 1916

No. 1

COOPER, Albion, Pa.

The Rev. ARTHUR B.

IN its larger meaning music is the harmonious flow of charmful tones capable of producing rhythmic response-it may be from nature, our physical being, or our inmost soul. The psychic response may come from the baser strings or from the finer fiber of the soul. The tone once born is never lost. It goes on forever, waiting, ever and anew, to find an entrance at some fitting moment through the senses to the soul.

God has finely tempered the senses to the soul in the normal man. No real music fails to reach the pure soul and to find its way back with overtones to kindred souls and to God's great out-of-doors. The fiber of a seared soul does not easily vi brate to music divine.

"The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils."

Few of us are free from something of the savage. Yet, "music hath charms." And as the temper of sense and soul acquires through discipline a higher quality, so are we able to catch, conquer, and convey the higher symphonies of music.

There's music everywhere if God is there.

"The God of music dwelleth out of doors, All seasons through his minstrelsy we meet Breathing by field and covert haunting


From organ-lofts in forests old he pours
A solemn harmony: on leafy floors
To smooth, autumnal pipes he moves his

Or with the tingling plectrum of the sleet
In winter keen beats out his thrilling


Leave me the reed unplucked beside the stream,

And he will stoop to fill it with the breeze; Leave the viol's frame in secret trees, Unwrought, and it shall wake a Druid


Leave me the whispering shell on nereid shores:

The God of music dwelleth out of doors."

"There's music in the sighing of the reed; There's music in the gushing of the rill; There's music in all things if men had


This earth is but an echo of the spheres."

"And wheresoever in this rich creation

Sweet music breathes-in wave or bird or soul

'Tis but the faint and far reverberation Of that great tune to which the planets roll."

Who shall be vain enough to say that music is a human creation, or, so far as nature is concerned, an accident? As well account the downward glide of Autumn's leaves a chance, or the work of gravitation a human art, since in some lonely spot of God's great universe some man conceived the waterfall of Keokuk; or man the author of day because he springs the electric switch in some great musichall. The universe is God's great music-hall, and when the light came on the orchestra began to play. Man and his inventions but play the part he gives them, a worthy part, in the great auditorium of God.

"If it seem incredible that the soul of music is in the heart of all created being, then the laws of harmony themselves shall answer, one string vibrating to another, when it is not struck itself, and uttering its voice of concord simply because the concord is in itself, and it feels the pulses on the air, to which it can not be silent. Nay, the solid mountains and their solid masses of rock shall answer."

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