I. THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF HYMNS

It may seem quite superfluous to give any attention to the mere announcement of hymns; but in many cases the spiritual success or failure of the congregational song is determined there. It is generally assumed that any one can announce a hymn and initiate its singing, but probably the least successful work of ninety-nine out of a hundred ministers is their management of the service of song in their churches. The writer remembers one minister who would baldly announce the number and then turn round and stare at the choir and organist until they began to sing. The awkwardness and helplessness of the man invariably produced a most unfortunate effect upon the congregation. Many ministers announce the number and read the first line. It makes no difference whether the first line is complete in meaning or not; they have identified the hymn.

Like a great many others of their professional brethren, they used the hymn perfunctorily as a traditionally necessary part of the service, with which they really had little or nothing to do; that it has any relation to the needs or the objects they have in view for the service does not occur to them. The unpardonableness of an aimless sermon need not be emphasized, but why should it be easier to forgive a preacher for aimlessly selecting and announcing hymns?

Many churches have hymn boards and even bulletins, making the mechanical interruption caused by the preacher’s announcement of the numbers unnecessary. The people presumably have found the hymn by the time the tune is played through.[1]

Of course, if these devices for announcing the hymn are absent, the preacher must announce the number. If he does so in a listless, mechanical way, he will unconsciously give the congregation an unfortunate emotional keynote, and, in turn, it will sing in a listless, mechanical way. The psychical and emotional value of the singing of the hymn is already discounted. If it has been announced in a joyous, or, at least, in an interested spirit, with only a happy phrase or two, giving a cue to the spirit in which it is to be sung, the congregation will respond in kind. Twenty seconds of effective introduction will make the difference between success and failure.

It should be emphasized that a live preacher will not allow the regular order of service to prevent needed comment on the hymn as it is needed. The order of service has advantages, but if it robs the preacher of freedom and spontaneity, it becomes a curse. Too rigidly followed it makes for dullness and boredom. The congregation should not be allowed to feel that any departure from it is a doubtful liberty on the part of the preacher. Opportunity should be made to dispel any such idea.

If a hymn is curtly announced, or courteously suggested with a “please” or a “kindly” (as if to sing it were a special favor to the preacher), and if no hint is given as to the message to be conveyed, or as to the feeling which is to be expressed, how can the minister hope that the merely improvised singing of an unexpected hymn, perhaps with an unknown tune, will have any stimulating, not to say spiritual, value? If the hymn is well known, it is probably a great hymn, and what gathering of saints can rise at a moment’s notice to its spiritual altitude?

What intelligent minister would presume suddenly to ask a trained elocutionist to read to his audience a poem he had never before seen? Or what honest lawyer would ask a client to sign a legal paper involving obligations without explanations or previous reading? Yet, every Sunday, congregations are asked to sing hymns they have never noticed, expressing they know not what sentiments, promises, or consecrations, in the most solemn and exalted manner. Is it ethical? Is it efficient?