Yet again, when I remember the tears I shed at the Psalmody
of Thy Church, in the beginning of my recovered faith; and how at this
time I am moved, not with the singing, but with the things sung,
when they are sung with a clear voice and modulation most suitable,
I acknowledge the great use of this institution. Thus I fluctuate
between peril of pleasure and approved wholesomeness; inclined the
rather (though not as pronouncing an irrevocable opinion) to approve
of the usage of singing in the church; that so by the delight of the
ears the weaker minds may rise to the feeling of devotion. Yet when it
befalls me to be more moved with the voice than the words sung, I
confess to have sinned penally, and then had rather not hear music.
See now my state; weep with me, and weep for me, ye, whoso regulate
your feelings within, as that good action ensues. For you who do not
act, these things touch not you. But Thou, O Lord my God, hearken;
behold, and see, and have mercy and heal me, Thou, in whose presence I
have become a problem to myself; and that is my infirmity.
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