Light comes in undulations to the eye, as tones of sound to the ear.  Must not light also sing?  The lowest tone we can hear is made by 16.5 vibrations of air per second; the highest, so shrill and “fine that nothing lives ’twixt it and silence,” is made by 38,000 vibrations per second.  Between these extremes lie eleven octaves; C of the G clef having 258-7/8 vibrations to the second, and its octave above 517-1/2.  Not that sound vibrations cease [Page 27] at 38,000, but our organs are not fitted to hear beyond those limitations.  If our ears were delicate enough, we could hear even up to the almost infinite vibrations of light.  In one of those semi-inspirations we find in Shakspeare’s works, he says—­

 “There’s not the smallest orb which thou beholdest,
  But in his motion like an angel sings,
  Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim. 
  Such harmony is in immortal souls;
  But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
  Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.”

And that older poetry which is always highest truth says, “The morning stars sing together.”  We misconstrued another passage which we could not understand, and did not dare translate as it was written, till science crept up to a perception of the truth that had been standing there for ages, waiting a mind that could take it in.  Now we read as it is written—­“Thou makest the out-goings of the morning and evening to sing.”  Were our senses fine enough, we could hear the separate keynote of every individual star.  Stars differ in glory and in power, and so in the volume and pitch of their song.  Were our hearing sensitive enough, we could hear not only the separate key-notes but the infinite swelling harmony of these myriad stars of the sky, as they pour their mighty tide of united anthems in the ear of God: 

 “In reason’s ear they all rejoice,
  And utter forth a glorious voice. 
  Forever singing, as they shine,
  The hand that made us is divine.”

This music is not monotonous.  Stars draw near each other, and make a light that is unapproachable by mortals; [Page 28] then the music swells beyond our ability to endure.  They recede far away, making a light so dim that the music dies away, so near to silence that only spirits can perceive it.  No wonder God rejoices in his works.  They pour into his ear one ceaseless tide of rapturous song.

Our senses are limited—­we have only five, but there is room for many more.  Some time we shall be taken out of “this muddy vesture of decay,” no longer see the universe through crevices of our prison-house, but shall range through wider fields, explore deeper mysteries, and discover new worlds, hints of which have never yet been blown across the wide Atlantic that rolls between them and men abiding in the flesh.

Chemistry of Suns revealed by Light.