What this song does in a room
The kids are still finding seats, somebody's stroller is half-blocking the aisle, a grandparent is trying to wave at a grandchild three rows up, and the count-in starts. Four bars later, the room has tipped. That is what this little Scripture-song was built to do. It is not a contemplative opener. It is not a build. It is a corporate "yes" to the day itself, and it lands fastest when the room is mixed (kids, teens, working adults, retirees) because every single one of them gets the lyric on the first pass. You are leading a song that does not require anyone to learn anything. The Bible already did the writing in Psalm 118, and Les Garrett just gave it a melody you can sing in a minivan.
The other thing it does, and you will feel this if you watch faces, is it gives people permission to be glad on a Sunday they did not arrive glad. That permission is not small. A lot of folks walk in carrying a week. Inviting them to sing "let us rejoice and be glad in it" is a pastoral act, not a peppy one.
What this song is saying about God
The theology is simple and strong. God made this day. Not the bad parts, not the good parts, the day itself, as a gift. The grammar of the song matters. It is not "this is a day," it is "this is the day," singular, this one, the one you woke up inside of. Joy is framed as the right response to a gift that is already on the table.
That moves joy out of the category of mood and into the category of obedience. The day is made, the gift is given, and the people of God are invited to receive it with rejoicing. You are not asking the room to manufacture feeling. You are asking them to recognize what is already true and respond.
Scriptural backbone
Psalm 118:24 is the direct source, and it is worth saying the verse out loud somewhere in the moment so the room knows the song is just the Bible with a tune.
"This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." (Psalm 118:24, ESV)
Two other texts sit alongside it and deepen the song without crowding it. Philippians 4:4 says, "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice." Paul wrote that from a prison cell, which is worth knowing if you are tempted to think rejoicing requires good circumstances. And Lamentations 3:23 reminds us that the mercies of God are "new every morning," which is the quiet engine under the song. The reason this day is worth rejoicing in is that fresh mercy showed up with the sunrise.
How to use it in a service
Opener for an all-age Sunday, family service, baptism Sunday, Easter morning, or any week the calendar has earned a celebration. It also works wonderfully as a short refrain between elements: sing the chorus once after the call to worship, again before the offering, again after the benediction. It is short enough to bear repetition without wearing out.
A few specific use cases that work well. First, when a kids' choir or children's ministry is part of the service, hand them the call-and-response and let them lead the echo. Second, on a morning following a hard week in the community (a funeral, a loss, a national event), this song is more honest than it looks. It refuses to let grief have the last word over the day God made, and it does so without minimizing anything. Third, as a closer when the service has been heavier than expected and you want to send people out lifted but not whiplashed.
Things to watch for as the worship leader
The trap with this song is overplaying it. It is so simple that bands want to "do something" with it, and almost every "something" makes it worse. Resist the rearrangement instinct. Do not add a bridge. Do not modulate. Do not slow it down for a contemplative verse. The song is a single-shot espresso. Treat it that way.
Watch tempo carefully. 120 BPM is correct. Push it to 132 and it feels frantic, like you are trying to convince the room rather than invite it. Drop it to 108 and it sags into a Sunday school memory rather than a present-tense declaration. Keep it where it sits.
Lyric-wise, the call-and-response can confuse newer congregations on the first run. If your room has not sung it in years, do a quick spoken walk-through before counting in. "We are going to sing 'This is the day,' you are going to echo 'This is the day.' Then 'that the Lord has made,' you echo that too. Then we land on the last line together." Ten seconds of orientation saves the first chorus from being awkward.
One more thing. The song's joy will feel forced if the worship leader's face does not believe it. You cannot fake your way through this one. If it is a hard Sunday for you personally, that is a real moment to lean into Psalm 118 as a confession rather than a feeling, and let the room carry you on the rejoicing.
A note for the team behind you (techs, vocalists, band)
Tempo locked at 120, four on the floor feel, snare on 2 and 4 with very little ornamentation. Acoustic guitar driving, capo at 5 puts G in a comfortable spot for the room. Keep the kick simple. The temptation to add a tom fill into the second chorus should be resisted. The arrangement breathes when nothing fights the vocal.
For vocalists, the call-and-response works best when the echo singer is slightly behind the lead in attack, not on top. A clean half-beat delay sells the conversation. If you have a kids' team or a backing vocal pair, let one voice lead and the other answer, rather than stacking unison the whole way through. The texture is the point.
Sound team, this is a "vocal forward, instruments supportive" moment, not a wall of sound. Pull guitars back a touch in the mix, ride the lead vocal up, and let the congregation hear themselves. In-ears: lead vocal needs a little more of itself than usual because this song lives or dies on the smile in the voice carrying the room. If anyone on the team is having a rough morning, this is the song to lean on the others. The point is not performance. The point is helping a roomful of tired people remember the day is a gift.