In the Psalms it is recorded that when the Jews were carried away captive and were required by their captors to sing the joyous songs of Zion, they hung their harps on the willows, complaining, "How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?" Scott refers in "Ivanhoe" to the same occasion when he makes Rebecca say dolefully in her well-known hymn, "Our harps we left by Babel's streams." In other words, the children of Israel at this time seemed inclined under the stress of circumstances to cease rejoicing.

The fallacy of such an inclination Mrs. Eddy once pointed out emphatically when she said in a letter (published in The Christian Science Journal, December, 1915): "May His presence and power that guided your passage continue, and your harps never be hung upon the willows." No matter what the circumstances may be, no matter how strange may seem the land in which we find ourselves temporarily, we can never afford to put aside the harp of joy and give ourselves over to weeping. To rejoice evermore is the absolute demand of divine Principle, and even though a human being may seem to disobey this command, the real man in God's image ceaselessly observes it.

What if our environment does seem grievous? Does not that very fact rightly require us to stand as Christian Scientists, as bringers of unhesitating joy? Is not the song of Zion exactly what the wrong state of thought needs to hear in order to give way before Principle? Of course the wrong state of thought, the grievous environment, most often claims to be "I." If evil did not suggest itself as man's own consciousness, it could never claim to be anything. Evil suggestions, such as, "I am really sick this time and cannot rejoice;" or, "I am poor;" or, "I am doing wrong and cannot help it," are simply different phases of the error which claims to be the captor, and these captives need to hear the sweet song of Zion, the joyous music of the harp which eternally praises God.

Fortunately for human hope the "I" which declares itself sick or poor or a miserable sinner is never the real self at all. The true self is the reflection of infinite divine intelligence, and is never sick, poor, or sinning, never misjudged, ill-treated, or hampered, never anything apart from the one perfect Mind. To accept as "I" only what really is "I" and to reject unerringly any other suggestion is to sing continuously the song of the Lord. That which claims to be imperfect and limited is mere illusion, as preposterous as the fiction of a man in the moon. God manifest is the only self-existence. More than all, or an opposite to all there is, could not be possible. Where fancy sees a man in the moon there really is only the lunar geography; so right where there may seem to be a self bound and thwarted by evil, there really is but the true, free consciousness.

This is the real reason for rejoicing. Often in the midst of a nightmare of trouble one may argue that he would rejoice if only the nightmare would subside a little; or again such a one may try wistfully to rejoice that perhaps his condition is better than that of some one else, that he still has some material things, some relatively pleasant dreams, for which to be glad. Such an attitude of thought, however, is at most but a poor counterfeit of genuine spiritual joy. The song of the Lord which is actually without beginning and without end is occasioned neither by material things nor by the mere overcoming of trouble. "Rejoice not," said Jesus, "that the spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice, because your names are written in heaven." The only unchanging cause for rejoicing is that divine intelligence exists and forever governs man.

Consciousness cognizant of Principle is heaven. Even when everything apparently goes wrong and we are sorely tempted to hang our harps on the willows, we can still rejoice that such a consciousness of good may be gained. Man exists as consciousness, and must rejoice in the very fact that he is conscious. Through unconsciousness one could never do anything. Our work is just to start humbly with the recognition that true consciousness is indestructibly good. In this way we are ready to reject any suggestion of destructibility as in no sense real consciousness. Man may live in heaven now and his harp may be his joyous activity. On page 206 of "Miscellaneous Writings" Mrs. Eddy says: "The real Christian Scientist is constantly accentuating harmony in word and deed mentally and orally, perpetually repeating this diapason of heaven: 'Good is my God, and my God is good. Love is my God, and my God is Love.'"

The song of the Lord is not, however, any mere repeating of words. It is rather the instant recognition of the divine idea manifested as consciousness under no matter what shifting tribulations of the seeming human experience. The ability to see instantly that the Christ is actually present is the essence or spirit of Christian Science. Before this spiritual alertness all manner of wrong conditions must vanish. Milton tells us:—

Let us then straightway take our harps from the willows, and sing the song which celebrates the presence of the Christ. Let us no more hang them there in temporary discouragement, but go on with our singing. We do not have to bow down before any idols of pain, dejection, sluggishness, disorder, or what not. By our glad knowing of what really is we reduce the idols to their native nothingness, and may go on in the perfectly satisfactory infinitude of Life, which forever unfolds good.