Whatever the celebration, Mongolians will sing. In fact, people say if you can’t sing then you’re not Mongolian. At concerts, amongst the chatter, ringing of phones and eating of ice-creams, the audience will happily add their bold voices to the performance. Sometimes a famous singer will invite a child to join them; most children eagerly leap onto the stage, grab the microphone and begin singing with an unconstrained gusto that delights the audience no end.

Mongolia has hundreds of folk songs. Some are new, and some date right back to the time of Chinghis Khan. But whatever their vintage they all reflect the nature of the Mongolians.

They speak of love: especially love for the mother who brought them into the world, cared for them, nurtured them and sacrificed so much that they might thrive. While others honour the herder and his animals, particularly his horse. The traditional long song, with its drawn-out notes and staccato rises and falls, often symbolises the horse; evoking in the mind of the hearer images of horses galloping across the steppe. And songs, too numerous to number, celebrate this vast land that beckons the Mongolians to the freedom of the steppe and the promise of a life lived in harmony with nature.

Such songs are cathartic. They lift the Mongolians, cheer their hearts and take them beyond the mundane, beyond themselves to see the beauty that surrounds them.

Of course, such rapture is not confined to the Mongolians alone. Beauty carries all of us beyond the ordinary, as we marvel at a myriad stars and galaxies set in a clear velvet night, or a lofty mountain reaching far into the clouds; or as we relish the simplicity of a child’s laugh. All these things inspire us, affirming an essential element of our humanity: life may be less than perfect, but beauty teaches us that the extraordinary is possible.

More than that – in the presence of such beauty, words of praise rise unbidden. Life is praiseworthy.

Did God create man to extol something greater than ourselves? Did God create us to praise Him? Yes!

In the ordinary, I praise, thank and adore Him, marvelling at His power, love and grace; aware that as I direct my praise to Him, something happens in me. I sense His presence, and my small understanding begins to grasp a little of His greatness. Humbled, I realise that neither I, nor my work, nor the troubles of this world, are the centre of my universe. He is. And not only does my simple praise re-orientate me, but it finds its home with Him, the God of heaven and earth.

He created beauty and He created me to sing with unconstrained gusto. In my tiny part of His world I want to worship and glorify Him so that, by a miracle of God, my life might reflect His beauty to this world.

Wow Lord, such a thought is audacious. Can my feeble praise delight you and really bring glory to your name?