At the first note of the trumpet the wall began to fall. The wall was very old. It had heard many tunes, rhythms and harmonies of the city, children beating leather skins pretending war, voices of women pounding grain, cries of sheep and donkeys and dogs, pennywhistles and mouth-harps, marketplace clamor in the morning, reveler-songs in the night.
Child and man, woman, beast, their sounds echoed on the wall, made, of this collection of sounds, a city.
At the first call of the trumpet the wall began to crumble. Harmony and rhythm and tune entered into the wall, sweet and sharp as a needle, calling overwhelming delight, calling the wall to be tune and harmony with it, to stop its own slow rhythm and make rhythm with it, until the wall echoed with trumpet, until it forgot the cries of sheep and donkeys and dogs, and the children’s voices, the children beating leather skins, pretending war.
Then more trumpets called out. Each one played a different tune, a different rhythm. The wall echoed each tune and sounded to each rhythm; in overwhelming delight was all harmony forgot.
And the wall came tumbling down.
“And they utterly destroyed all that was in the city, both man and woman, young and old, and oxen, and sheep, … with the edge of the sword.” (Joshua 6:21)
So the Lord was with Joshua; and the love of God spread throughout the land.
<END>
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