Archive for hymns

Radiant gladness

At my church we sometimes sing a hymn which so clearly illustrates the way music can be stitched together across centuries and nations. The melody is a terrific German folk tune (which Brink and Polman’s Psalter Hymnal Handbook describes as “a sturdy tune and an able harmonization” that “calls for energetic art singing.”). You may know it best as “Hail to the Lord’s Anointed” or perhaps “O Day of Rest and Gladness.”

The words for “O Day of Radiant Gladness” come from three different sources. The first two stanzas are a reworking of Christopher Wordsworth’s 19th century hymn “O Day of Rest and Gladness.” The third stanza comes from Charles P. Price,  a Pittsburgh native born in 1920 who became a professor at Virginia Theological Seminary. The final stanza isn’t credited to a single author, but is ©1982 Church Pension Fund–which is to say, the Episcopalians.

I love the way this hymn rejoices in the Sabbath as a day of triple light: each Sunday reminding us of and participating in creation, Resurrection Day, and Pentecost. A joyful Sabbath is a foretaste of heaven. Honestly, it just thrills me to stand with a congregation and sing these thoughts.

Alas, YouTube didn’t have a good version of the hymn for me to share with you, so I’ll let you listen to the original German song while you read along. Perhaps–if you don’t know German very well–you’ll catch a bit of the feeling.

 
O day of radiant gladness,
O day of joy and light,
O balm of care and sadness,
most beautiful, most bright;
this day the high and lowly,
through ages joined in tune,
sing, “Holy, holy, holy,”
to the great God Triune.

This day at the creation,
the light first had its birth;
this day for our salvation
Christ rose from depths of earth;
this day our Lord victorious
the Spirit sent from heaven,
and thus this day most glorious
a triple light was given.

This day, God’s people meeting,
his Holy Scripture hear;
his living presence greeting,
through Bread and Wine made near.
We journey on, believing,
renewed with heavenly might,
from grace more grace receiving
on this blest day of light.

That light our hope sustaining,
we walk the pilgrim way,
at length our rest attaining,
our endless Sabbath day.
We sing to thee our praises,
O Father, Spirit, Son;
the Church her voice upraises
to thee, blest Three in One.

Tune: Es flog ein klein’s Waldvögelein (Woodbird). German folk tune, first published in the 17th c.

Text: Stanzas 1-2, Christopher Wordsworth (1807-1855), alt.;
stanza 3, Charles P. Price (b. 1920);
stanza 4, Hymnal 1982.

 

The King’s Highway

US 501 North of Durham, NC Photo credit: Jim Saintsing

US 501 North of Durham, NC
Photo credit: Jim Saintsing

 

A friend of mine took this picture and it reminded me of a gospel favorite by Thomas A. Dorsey and Mary Gardner, performed here with Alex Bradford. If you don’t know about Thomas A. Dorsey, you should. He’s the composer of Take My Hand Precious Lord, Peace in the Valley, When the Gates Swing Open, and many, many more. This is just a taste.

 

My Way, my Truth, my Life

The Call
George Herbert

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life:
such a way as gives us breath,
such a truth as ends all strife,
such a life as killeth death.

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength:
such a light as shows a feast,
such a feast as mends in length,
such a strength as makes his guest.

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart:
such a joy as none can move,
such a love as none can part,
such a heart as joys in love.

Inspired by Pope Francis’s call for Catholics to take to the streets in sharing the Gospel, Blackfriar Films hit New York City for this project. Scenes were filmed at the Brooklyn Bridge, Our Lady of Good Counsel parish, Grand Central Station, Columbus Circle, and the Staten Island ferry.

Featuring:
Vocals by Austin Litke, O.P.
Piano by Robert Koopmann, O.S.B.
Violin by Leah Sedlacek
Musical arrangement by Edward A. David

The video was shot by Blackfriar Films, which is the media division of the Dominican Province of St. Joseph. The crew is composed of graduates of the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU: Joshua Vargas, John Fisher, and Michael Crommett.

Welcome, Delightful Morn

Carmina Sacra Image: archive.org

Carmina Sacra by Lowell Mason, 1841
Image: archive.org

 

This morning as the sun is shining and the snow is melting, I’ll share a suite of hymns arranged for flute and harp by Kathryn Cater and Sandy Norman. They begin with “Welcome Delightful Morn,” an old hymn that’s new to me. The words are by Thomas Hayward (who also wrote “From Greenland’s Icy Mountains”). The tune is Das Lie­ben Bringt Groß Freud, by Fried­rich Sil­cher, who took it from a Swa­bi­an folk tune. Silcher’s tune was ar­ranged by Low­ell Ma­son and published in his Car­mi­na Sac­ra, (se­cond ed­i­tion, 1841). There seems to be a bit of Ellis Island-like confusion surrounding the tune. Some hymn­als name the tune “Lisch­er” (a mis­spell­ing of “Sil­cher”?), or er­ron­e­ous­ly give Sil­cher’s name as “Schnei­der.”

Dr. Mason would probably want us all to be singing instead of just listening, so I’ll include the words to this first hymn and leave it up to you. Have a blessed Sabbath.

 

Welcome, delightful morn,
Thou day of sacred rest!
I hail thy kind return;
Lord, make these moments blest;
From the low train of mortal toys,
I soar to reach immortal joys,

Now may the King descend,
And fill His throne with grace;
Thy scepter, Lord, extend,
While saints address Thy face:
Let sinners feel Thy quickening Word,
And learn to know and fear the Lord,

Descend, celestial Dove,
With all Thy quickening powers;
Disclose a Savior’s love,
And bless the sacred hours:
Then shall my soul new life obtain,
Nor Sabbaths be enjoyed in vain,

 

Gifts of love to mind and sense

Barn swallow  Photo credit: Jason Mrachina w$nd3rl0st on Flickr

Barn swallow
Photo credit: Jason Mrachina
w$nd3rl0st on Flickr

 

When I read that the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral choir in Portland was going to sing all 720 hymns in The Hymnal 1982 to raise money for a trip to England, my first thought was, “What a great idea!” and my second, which followed soon thereafter was, “Oh! They’ll sing #585. I hope they like it.”

#585, you see, is  “Morning glory, starlit sky,” a lovely hymn I recently discovered. The words are a poem written by W. H. Vanstone; the tune, Bingham, was composed by Dorothy Howell Sheets specifically for this hymnal.  I’d never heard it until it became the Hymn of the Month at a local church, and the congregation sang it each Sunday in November until it became familiar.

New hymns can be a difficult sell and a distraction during Sunday morning worship, so most churches stick with the familiar. Someone is bound to complain if the experience is unsettling or if they just don’t like the tune, but if I can put in a plug for adding #585, please let me do so here.

I really like Sheets’ setting of Vanstone’s words, but unfortunately, I can’t find an online version to share. (Note to musician friends: could you fill this gap in the internet?)  I’ll send you to the sheet music or you can grab an Episcopal hymnal, but you’ll have to find a way to pick it out for yourself.

Meanwhile, here’s another beautiful setting by Barry Rose which I hope you’ll enjoy.

Morning glory, starlit sky,
Soaring music, scholar’s truth,
Flight of swallows, autumn leaves,
Memory’s treasure, grace of youth:

Open are the gifts of God,
Gifts of love to mind and sense;
Hidden is love’s agony,
Love’s endeavour, love’s expense

Love that gives, gives evermore,
Gives with zeal, with eager hands,
Spares not, keeps not, all outpours,
Ventures all, its all expends.

Drained is love in making full,
Bound in setting others free,
Poor in making many rich,
Weak in giving power to be.

Therefore he who shows us God
Helpless hangs upon the tree;
And the nails and crown of thorns
Tell of what God’s love must be.

Here is God, no monarch he,
Throned in easy state to reign;
Here is God, whose arms of love,
Aching, spent, the world sustain.
 

Laetentur coeli – May the heavens rejoice!

Laetentur coeli,                                          May the heavens rejoice
exultet terra,                                              and the earth be glad,
a facie Domini quia venit,                           before the Lord
quia venit!                                                  who is coming!

 

From Psalm 96:11-13

Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice;
let the sea roar, and all that fills it;
let the field exult, and everything in it.
Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy
before the Lord; for he is coming,
for he is coming to judge the earth.
He will judge the world with righteousness,
and the peoples with his truth.

Advent in-between

I find myself at a strange, in-between place this Advent. We’ve moved to a new town, and a new job, and we haven’t yet settled into a church home. We’re still exploring. Still visitors. Not yet family.

Of course, there are wonderful services to attend with terrific music and stirring messages, but I have to admit it feels a little less-than-satisfying without familiar faces in nearby pews. I think about those folks who only come to church at Christmastime. Do they feel unknown and unnoticed as they sing the hymns, and take communion, and seek some kind of joy or healing? Do they walk out of church and say to themselves, “Now, it feels like Christmas!” or does it fall a little short of memory and expectation? I wonder.

It’s an odd thing to celebrate a season when you don’t feel grounded. It reminds me how much strength I draw from my worship community even at times when I’m not an especially active participant in the life of the church. And it also reminds me of that verse in Deuteronomy: “love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

Ah, well. Whatever our circumstances, the King is coming and we have to get ready. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite Advent hymns. The tune is the very popular Psalm 42 from the Geneva Psalter (1551), setting by Claude Goudimel. These lyrics were written about a century later by Johann Olearius.

People seem to have a little trouble deciding on a tempo for this one, but if you hit the sweet spot and keep it light–and especially if you add some Renaissance percussion–you can dance your way to the joy of Christ’s coming.  Even the feel of the words in my mouth brings delight (“speak ye to Jerusalem/ of the peace that waits for them”), and oh, how I wish we could speak peace to Jerusalem.

You can listen to a choral arrangement with slightly different words from the hymnal, or go for period instruments in the arrangement for lute and viols. Either way, let’s get going and make the rougher places plain.

~~~~~~

Comfort, comfort ye my people,
speak ye peace, thus saith our God;
comfort those who sit in darkness,
mourning ‘neath their sorrow’s load;
speak ye to Jerusalem
of the peace that waits for them;
tell her that her sins I cover,
and her warfare now is over.

For the herald’s voice is crying
in the desert far and near,
bidding all men to repentance,
since the kingdom now is here.
O that warning cry obey!
Now prepare for God a way!
Let the valleys rise to meet him,
and the hills bow down to greet him.

Make ye straight what long was crooked,
make the rougher places plain:
let your hearts be true and humble,
as befits his holy reign,
For the glory of the Lord
now o’er earth is shed abroad,
and all flesh shall see the token
that his word is never broken.

 

Words: Johann G. Olearius, 1671;
trans. Catherine Winkworth, 1863
 

 

Children of the Heavenly King

Photo via The Episcopal Diocese of Southwestern Virginia

 

I found myself thinking about this hymn today, I couldn’t tell you why. I learned it (though with a different tune) from my mother who was leading the children’s choir at the time. We sang it with our primary school voices, but the words are not really meant for children–they’re meant for those of us with a few years and some wear and tear. And they point to one of the reasons why having children in church is so important. We need to be reminded that God can see the sweetness adults still embody. We need to remember that, though we are not children, we are children of God.

When I was little and would start to leave the house looking dirty or unkempt, my mother would tell me, “I can’t let you go out looking like that. People will think that nobody loves you!” She of course, knew what I was like under the grime and disheveled hair. Not an orphan or a street urchin or a prodigal, but a beloved child with a home.

 

 
 
The choir of Wakefield Cathedral conducted by Jonathan Bielby
Tune: “Melling” by John Fawcett. Words: John Cennick

Children of the heavenly King,
As ye journey, sweetly sing;
Sing your Saviour’s worthy praise,
Glorious in his works and ways

We are travelling home to God,
In the way the fathers trod;
They are happy now, and we
Soon their happiness shall see.

Fear not, brethren; joyful stand
On the borders of your land;
Jesus Christ, your Father’s Son,
Bids you undismayed go on.

Lift your eyes, ye sons of light,
Zion’s city is in sight:
There our endless home shall be,
There our Lord in glory see

And am I born to die

 

Let this be recorded for a generation to come,
so that a people yet unborn may praise the Lord:
that he looked down from his holy height,
from heaven the Lord looked at the earth,
to hear the groans of the prisoners,
to set free those who were doomed to die;
that men may declare in Zion the name of the Lord,
and in Jerusalem his praise,
when peoples gather together,
and kingdoms, to worship the Lord.

Psalm 102: 18-22

 

When we read this psalm or the passage in Isaiah, we tend to imagine a modern justice system, where prisoners serve their time, pay their debt to society, and are eventually released. We think about justice and mercy. We think about getting out on appeal and catching a break.

We would do better to remember a time when, if they threw you in the dungeon, the powers that be were done thinking about you. You were doomed. Unless someone on the outside could bring your case to mind again, your cries of pain or protestations of injustice were useless. No wonder some darkly creative mind named the oubliette, a place for the forgotten.

We are all, in a sense, prisoners doomed to die.  No one escapes. We don’t know how long we have. We wonder if we’ll be forgotten. We look around and ask God “…and am I born to die?”

The darkness and suffering are real, but the Lord does not forget. We shall again praise him.

 

“And am I born to die” words by Charles Wesley.

Doc Watson sings accompanied by his father-in-law, Gaither Carlton, on fiddle.

 

 

And am I born to die?
To lay this body down?
And must my trembling spirit fly
Into a world unknown –
A land of deepest shade,
Unpierced by human thought,
The dreary regions of the dead,
Where all things are forgot?

Soon as from earth I go,
What will become of me?
Eternal happiness or woe
Must then my portion be;
Waked by the trumpet’s sound,
I from my grave shall rise,
And see the Judge with glory crowned,
And see the flaming skies.

How shall I leave my tomb?
With triumph or regret?
A fearful or a joyful doom,
A curse or blessing meet?
Will angel-bands convey
Their brother to the bar?
Or devils drag my soul away,
To meet its sentence there?

Who can resolve the doubt
That tears my anxious breast?
Shall I be with the damned cast out,
Or numbered with the blest?
I must from God be driven,
Or with my Saviour dwell;
Must come at his command to heaven,
Or else – depart to hell.

O thou that wouldst not have
One wretched sinner die,
Who died’st thyself; my soul to save
From endless misery!
Show me the way to shun
Thy dreadful wrath severe,
That when thou comest on thy throne
I may with joy appear.

Thou art thyself the Way;
Thyself in me reveal;
So shall I spend my life’s short day
Obedient to thy will;
So shall I love my God,
Because he first loved me,
And praise thee in thy bright abode,
To all eternity.

Soar away

Cades Cove Primitive Baptist Church
Photo credit: J.Stephen Conn

 

I want a sober mind,
An all sustaining eye,
To see my God above,
And to the heavens fly.

I’d soar away above the sky,
I’d fly to see my God above.

I want a Godly fear,
A quick discerning eye,
That looks to Thee my God,
And see the tempter fly.

Tune: A. Marcus Cagle, 1935
Words: Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs, 1814

 

A perfect marriage of text and tune: the stern austerity of the lines about sobriety and Godly fear breaks into an ecstatic fugue as the singer soars upward to see God.  A hymn about vision and transport.