I woke this morning and read a post from a dear college friend. This song has been on her heart and I thought it appropriate for my Wednesday Worship Song. I’ve been using Streams in the Desert by L.B. Cowman this year. It as re-affirmed time after time that without the valleys there would be no mountain top. We would not appreciate the Light without the darkness.
I call to remembrance my song in the night (Psalm 77:6).
I have read somewhere of a little bird that will never sing the melody his master wishes while his cage is full of light. He learns a snatch of this, a bar of that, but never an entire song of its own until the cage is covered and the morning beams shut out.
A good many people never learn to sing until the darkling shadows fall. The fabled nightingale carols with his breast against a thorn. It was in the night that the song of the angels was heard. It was at midnight that the cry came, “Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him.”
-Streams in the Desert, May 21