Praise him with sounding cymbals; praise him with loud clashing cymbals!
Oh my King, do you hear it? Sweet music…I hear the wellsprings of music rising from the streets, from the market places, even from the homes of this city. Oh this city placed upon a hill, for all to see. The sweet undulating sounds of tunes and rhythms bounding over the hills and passing across the vast fields where the farmers backs bend over a harvest that has come to it’s great day of reaping. Let these tunes remind them of the hot dry days spent sowing and watering, where no green could be seen, and the days of slowly moving down one row after another pulling weeds out from their deep roots. Their long toil has paid off, may they rejoice with a dance, and a song of victory, for they have overcome the heat, the labor, and even the time that held them back from their long hoped for harvest. There will be a celebration tonight, and You, my King and my God, will be the guest of honor! May your Spirit fill the streets with the rhythm of your heart, and may you put a tune in the hearts of the people, and a rhythm in the very gut of the youngest all they way to the oldest. There will be a great rejoicing, For you are WORTHY!!!!
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