Strike the Tent

I had the pleasure on Tuesday of sitting in my study at the church and listening to the piano tuner work on our sanctuary upright. Except for meeting times, there's no attempt at climate control in the large room and an unchecked Georgia summer sun will certainly relax a string or two if not cause the whole thing to spontaneously combust. For almost an hour he could be heard methodically striking his way through the scales. I suppose one couldn't call it beautiful music he was making; but it was awfully satisfying to hear sour note after sour note turned sweet as dissonance gave way to resonance. My heart and mind have been similarly warped by the often unchecked and oppresive glare of Satan - I pray the presence of the Holy Spirit and sing along with Robert Robinson "Come thou fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy grace."