Isaiah 30:29

Someone writes of sitting one winter evening by an open wood fire and listening to the singing of the green logs as the fire flamed about them. All manner of sounds came out of the wood as it burned, and the writer, with poetic fancy, suggests that they were imprisoned songs, long sleeping in silence in the wood, brought out now by the fire.

When the tree stood in the forest, the birds came and sat on its boughs and sang their songs. The wind, too, breathed through the branches making a weird, strange music. One day a child sat on the moss by the tree’s root and sang its happy gladness in a snatch of sweet melody. A penitent sat under the tree’s shade and with trembling tones, amid falling leaves, sang the fifty-first Psalm. And all these notes of varied song sank into the tree as it stood there, and they hid away in its trunk. There they slept until the tree was cut down and part of it became a backlog in the cheerful evening fire. Then the flames brought out the music.