Why do I make Music?

I was asked a question once to which I had no answer, and to which I still don't have a complete answer.  The question was, "Why do you musick?" which is the academic way of asking "Why do you make music?"  As a musician--and someone who hopes to teach the next generation of musicians--I need to find my answer.

Recently, I was shown my answer.

I had the wonderful opportunity to go to the Southeastern Division Conference of the American Choral Director's Association a few weeks ago, and heard many, many beautiful concerts and choirs.  They, almost without exception, sang with technical proficiency and skill, but not always with feeling.

On Sabbath morning there was one more concert, with an all sacred repertoire, so I decided to attend.  It was held at a church, which already led to a more worshipful experience, but there was also feeling and meaning behind what the choirs sang.  They were worshipping God through their music.  They were no less skilled than the other choirs from the week, but there was added beauty in their music because it was not a performance.  It was an act of worship to the Creator of music.

So, why do I musick?  I musick because I have a gift from God that I want to share with others.  I musick because I have been given a message about God's love that I must share with the world.  But most importantly, I musick because God has done so much for me, and I want to say "thank you" to Him.  I want to praise His name for the rest of my life.

~~~

There is singing up in Heaven such as we have never known,
Where the angels sing the praises of the Lamb upon the throne,
Their sweet harps are ever tuneful, and their voices always clear,
O that we might be more like them while we serve the Master here!

     Holy, holy, is what the angels sing,
     And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring;
     But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings,
     For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.

But I hear another anthem, blending voices clear and strong,
“Unto Him Who hath redeemed us and hath bought us,” is the song;
We have come through tribulation to this land so fair and bright,
In the fountain freely flowing He hath made our garments white.

     Holy, holy, is what the angels sing,
     And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring;
     But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings,
     For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.

Then the angels stand and listen, for they cannot join the song,
Like the sound of many waters, by that happy, blood washed throng,
For they sing about great trials, battles fought and vict’ries won,
And they praise their great Redeemer, who hath said to them, “Well done.”

     Holy, holy, is what the angels sing,
     And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring;
     But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings,
     For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.

So, although I’m not an angel, yet I know that over there
I will join a blessèd chorus that the angels cannot share;
I will sing about my Savior, who upon dark Calvary
Freely pardoned my transgressions, died to set a sinner free.

     Holy, holy, is what the angels sing,
     And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring;
     But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings,
     For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.