'Tis sweet to sing the matchless love...

For the 9 1/2 years I served as a counselor in our stake presidency, the demands of the calling required that I sacrifice a number of personal interests and activities.  One of those was singing in choirs.  Since my release last fall, it's been a joy to return to my love of music.  I've not only resumed participating in the ward choir, but also joined a community singing group, "The Orem Chorale," that challenges and inspires even more with very beautiful music and a talented, professional director.

When I was a young boy, my mother encouraged me to join with her in being a part of our ward choir.  She had always loved to sing, and wanted me to experience that too.  I don't recall other boys or men who were in the choir; I do remember a dominant soprano with some professional training who outsang the rest of the amateurs (don't most ward choirs have one of those??).

Parker, Idaho Ward Choir - 1900

OK, maybe we weren't THAT old-fashioned.  But it does seem like a LONG time ago.


The only director I recall over a period of several years was a dear older sister named Christa Amos.  I don't remember what music background she had, but she seemed to enjoy leading the choir and tried to pass her enthusiasm on to us. I recall Sister Amos had trouble seeing, even with thick glasses; her vision challenges must have made it difficult to try new music.  We tended to sing a handful of songs over and over.  I still know some of those numbers by heart from the repetition, and singing them brings back good memories.

There is one very vivid memory I have from that early choir experience.  I believe we were performing a song that was new back then — "As I Have Loved You," the choral arrangement that has additional verses beyond what we now typically sing in our meetings ("Now there were in that upper chamber, Jesus and His disciples...").  Sister Amos, as usual, didn't look at her music while directing us, because she couldn't see it.  But on this occasion, she didn't need to.  She felt the power of the message.  In my mind's eye, I can still see her upturned glowing face, tears streaming down her cheeks, the joy of the music and the message overwhelming her, as she directed her little choir in that sublime counsel:

"As I have loved you, love one another...
by this shall men know, ye are my disciples,
if ye have love, one to another."

That was probably the first time I realized that there was a difference between singing the music and feeling the music.  I was singing; Sister Amos was feeling.

Fast forward a few years.  In September 1976, I was a young missionary learning Portuguese at the Provo LTM (Language Training Mission).  The first new buildings of the MTC (Missionary Training Center) had been completed, and a dedication service was scheduled.  President Spencer W. Kimball would preside, and almost all of the general authorities would attend.  It was a glorious, sacred experience to be a part of, as the Lord was beginning to "hasten [His] work" in expanding the missionary force.

President Spencer W. Kimball addressing missionaries at the Provo MTC Dedication Service, September 27, 1976

One of the things that made this meeting powerful for me was the music.  We opened with "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go," especially pertinent to this gathering; and concluded with the hymn most sacred and beloved to me personally, "I Need Thee Every Hour."  But the real insight came with the song performed midway through the program by a "missionary chorus" special for this occasion — "Ye Elders of Israel."

The "missionary chorus" consisted of all 1,400 missionaries who were then in the MTC.  We were given one hour to practice the day before with a very gifted director named Clayne Robison, a professor of music at BYU.  Brother Robison tried to teach us how to sing better in that short time of preparation — how to improve sound quality, diction, expressiveness, etc.  But I loved the insight he shared about another aspect of singing.  He described three levels of sharing music:

• Level 1: you basically get the notes right and sing the words mechanically.  This is the majority of our congregational singing, and often the best we do in our choirs, when we're overly concerned with performance.
• Level 2: you realize there is a message behind the words; you understand and feel what you are singing.  There is spirit helping to convey the message; music begins to be worship, and begins to have power.
• Level 3: the words become your own.  It's as if you are conveying from your heart not what a composer wrote, but what you yourself are truly inspired to say and sing.  You're not delivering someone else's message; you are the message.

I loved that concept.  I made sure I was on level 2, and tried to lift myself to level 3.  I felt it in the MTC dedication; it was an amazing experience to feel the sentiments coming from deep inside my soul, and not just from my lips.

The harvest is great, and the lab'rers are few;
But if we're united, we all things can do.
We'll gather the wheat from the midst of the tares
And bring them from bondage, from sorrows and snares.
O Babylon, O Babylon, we bid thee farewell;
We're going to the mountains of Ephraim to dwell.

But even moreso in the closing hymn of that meeting:

I need thee ev'ry hour,
Most holy One.
Oh, make me thine indeed,
Thou blessed Son!
I need thee, oh, I need thee;
Ev'ry hour I need thee!
Oh, bless me now, my Savior;
I come to thee!

Tears often flow easily on level 3. They did that day in the MTC.  They have on several occasions since.

I continue to strive for level 3.  I find myself frequently on level 1, especially with familiar songs; and have to urge myself back to level 2. Level 3 is elusive; it doesn't come easily.  It's a remarkable experience when it does come.

I was interested to learn that Joseph Smith organized the first choir in the Church and attended regularly.  Joseph Young, a brother of Brigham Young and one of the first Seven Presidents of the Seventy, said this about Joseph:

He recommended the Saints to cultivate as high a state of perfection in their musical harmonies as the standard of the faith which he had brought was superior to sectarian religion. To obtain this, he gave them to understand that the refinement of singing would depend on the attainment of the Holy Spirit. That the combined talent of the sainted compositors, when united with those inspirations, will bring compositions of tunes, that have their origin with the sacred choirs that sing the new song, in the presence of God and the Lamb, who join their symphonies with the compositors, that dwell with the Saints on earth; and when the music performed here, is acceptable to their spirits, they then co-operate with the choirs, in our earthly courts.

Elder Young then added this, apparently quoting Joseph directly:

"When this subject is studied and sought after by the singers of the Saints, with their whole hearts, their songs and anthems, and their minstrelsy, will soften into celestial melody, melt the hearts of the Saints and draw them together, as the magnet needle is drawn to the loadstone. When these graces and refinements and all the kindred attractions are obtained that characterized the ancient Zion of Enoch, then the Zion of the last days will become beautiful, she will be hailed by the Saints from the four winds, who will gather to Zion 'with songs of everlasting joy.' Then Zion will be free, and to God and the Lamb will be the glory, to Saints the boundless joy."  (Joseph Young, History of the Organization of the Seventies, Deseret News Press, 1878, pp. 14-15)

So, I love to sing.  I'm not a great singer; I'm a long way from singing solos or performing at that level.  But I love to learn.  I love to feel the power of great music.  I love to seek the inspiration of singing powerfully.  I love the privilege of being a messenger when a great message is conveyed.