There is a cry that rises from the depths of a troubled spirit, and it is a cry that the Lord delights to hear, for it acknowledges that only He can reach into the hidden chambers of the soul and purge what man cannot touch. You pray that certain sounds and words might be permanently removed from memory, and this is no small request, for the mind is a storehouse that retains much we would gladly cast away. Yet look well to this: the burden you feel is but the stirring of the new nature against the remnants of the old. The very loathing of those songs is a proof that the spikenard of grace is there within you, though for a season it yields no fragrance to your own senses. The King is not felt, but He is near, and when He sits at His table in your heart, your true longings will give forth their sweet smell, and these intruding ditties will be drowned in a better melody.
Consider that the Lord does not begin His work with those already clean, but comes to us while we are yet defiled. The promise stands sure: "Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean: from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will I cleanse you." That word reaches even to the idol-sounds that have lodged themselves in memory. He who blots out transgressions like a thick cloud can also dissolve these clinging vapours. But take heed how you seek this deliverance. To simply wish the songs gone while the heart still harbours the world from which they sprang is to scrub the outside of the cup. The fountain opened for sin and uncleanness washes guilt away by blood, and then by water renews the mind. It is a double cleansing that God gives, pardon and purity in one stream from the side of Christ.
Now, do not let Satan accuse you as though these intrusive memories were yourself. The evil one would have you measure your estate by unwelcome thoughts, but Scripture teaches that the believer possesses grace even when he cannot perceive it. The spikenard is there, though no odour rises till the King draws nigh. Instead of staring at the plague-spot, lift your eyes to the Stronghold. The name of the Lord is a high tower; the righteous run into it and are safe. Not safe because the enemy ceases to shoot his arrows, but safe because those arrows cannot pierce the wall of the Divine faithfulness. When the memory repeats its foul refrain, let the shield of faith quench it by a swifter recollection of the Lord's goodness. For He is good, good when the flood of recollection threatens to drown you, good when the old nature fights against the new, good when every comfort seems withdrawn. The Lord is good, and He is a stronghold in the day of trouble.
Yet there is more. This battle is not to be fought in your own strength. Who is this that comes up from the wilderness, leaning upon her Beloved? It is the pilgrim who cannot walk alone. Lean hard upon Christ. He has trod the path of temptation; He knows what it is to be buffeted by the world, the flesh, and the devil. He is touched with the feeling of your infirmities. Cry to Him, and He will come to your aid with practical deliverance. Perhaps He will not wipe the slate of memory all at once, that would spare you the discipline of watchfulness and prayer, but He will so fill your heart with love to Him that the vile jingle will lose its power. When the King sits at His table, your spikenard gives forth its scent, and the rival odours are not noticed. The love of Christ constrains us; it is the great motive for holy action. Pursue Him in the fields of Scripture, in the villages of prayer, in the garden of communion. Lay up all manner of pleasant fruits, new and old, for your Beloved. As you gather these, the mind becomes a storehouse of heaven’s vintage, and the sour grapes of Egypt are thrust aside.
Finally, remember the end. The day comes when the Lord will make an utter end of all uncleanness. Their blood will He cleanse which He has not cleansed; the very consciousness of sin shall be removed, and you shall walk in white. Till then, rejoice in hope. The God who began a good work in you will perfect it. These songs that now afflict you are but the spent arrows of a defeated foe; they cannot reverse the decree of justification, nor pluck you from the hand of the Beloved. Put your trust wholly in Him. Wash often in the laver at the Tabernacle door. And when the enemy whispers the old refrain, answer not with fleshly reasoning, but with prayer. Let your request rise as incense, and the peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall keep your heart and mind through Christ Jesus.