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We have noted previously on the blog (see flower - summer's) the seldom sung stanza of "Praise, my soul, the King of heaven", that marvelous paraphrase of Psalm 103.

Wikipedia tangent: By the way, did you know that "Praise, my soul, the King of heaven" has its own Wikipedia article? How many other hymns have this distinction? This is a notable hymn, apparently, having been sung at "the 1947 royal wedding of Elizabeth II and Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh." One assumes that the stanza in question was included then.

The time has come to actually sing this, I think. It's about that time of year, of course, the autumnal equinox falling on Tuesday, September 23 this year.

We're editing that Hallelujah to "Alleluia" so that it matches the Hymnal 1982.

The stanza serves the hymn, we think, with only a little kink in the syllabification being the line that begins "Our God . . ." That "Our" gets a little too much emphasis for our taste.

There are also musical/choral reasons for singing it.

John Goss's setting provides

1. organ accompaniment for unison singing, intended for the first stanza
2. Four parts
3. A (softer) organ accompaniment for unison singing of treble voices (st. 3 in the Hymnal 1982, but note that Goss's indication for trebles is not included).
4. A different accompaniment for unison singing for the final stanza.

Singing the "Frail as summer's" stanza as st. 4 allows the replication of the four part version of the harmony, which adds a very nice symmetry to the hymn, we find.

But this stanza is not included in any hymnals that we can find. Do you know of one that uses it?

Frail as summer’s flower we flourish,
Blows the wind and it is gone;
But while mortals rise and perish
Our God lives unchanging on,
Praise Him, Praise Him, Hallelujah
Praise the High Eternal One!

Henry F. Lyte

Labels: Goss, Henry Francis Lyte, Hymnal 1982, hymns, Psalms, weather

It's not often that you plan for a service to last three hours, but sometimes you do plan for exactly that on Good Friday. Jack Spong returned today, to offer meditations at six half-hour services from noon to 3 p.m.

He was in fine form, and is preaching/teaching from his forthcoming book on the Gospel of John. We delved into the symbolism and the "thesis" of that Gospel all afternoon.

A discovery for me, was that reading Mary's presence at the crucifixion as a symbol (John is the only Gospel to include her at the cross) gives incredible meaning to the words: "Woman, here is your son." Words directed at the elusive, unnamed "beloved disciple", whoever he is and whatever he signifies.

It was a low church service for this solemn Fast Day. The organ was on, the bells rang to cue the start and the end (and perhaps once in the middle due to programmer error...), but local tradition always supersedes denominational tradition, and here the local traditions of the of the parish piled on fast and furious.

We were well represented with rectors of the parish. The present rector; the preacher, Jack Spong; the author of one of the hymns sung at the service, "Lord Christ, when first thou cam'st to earth", Walter Russell Bowie; and even the present rector's predecessor, who situated himself near the choir for the service.

These days are, of course, inherently conservative, liturgically. Look at Tenebrae. Who can understand it? What is it? Where does it come from? Just try to explain it to a Presbyterian, and you'll see what I mean.

So it should be no surprise that in these days, we do things as we've always done them, or at least, the best that we remember them, and to the best of our ability.

Who put that cross there? What does it mean?

Today, Jesus' cross stands between us and the Eucharist. Maybe that's why it's leaning on the altar rail (I think I've even seen it blocking the sanctuary entrance in other places).

But for the first time early this morning, I did receive communion from the reserved Sacrament. It's an interesting experience. The residue of the previous night's Eucharistic celebration lingers, but only in the memory. The bulk of the church itself is devastated. There is no cloth, no ornament, no light. And we occupy this strange area of circular logic, which crops up so often this week. Which Jesus are we eating? Well, the Resurrected Jesus who is fully present, of course. But weren't we contemplating him in prayer the garden? And doesn't he hang on the cross later today? The chronology is screwy.

But one thing has made a bit of sense this week, it continues to do so, and it will culminate rather gloriously at the end of the month. In the Daily Office readings, if one reads the entire Psalter in a month, one finishes the Psalter on Easter Day.

The dark, gritty bit that we're going through right now suits us just fine, and the Psalter will conclude tomorrow and the next day (twice; you read the "thirtieth day" portion on the thirty-first day as well).

But that's not all. I really can't recommend The St. Bede's Breviary highly enough for praying the Daily Office via an online text. The changes to the office that are made in Holy Week are stark:

• Offices begin with the Psalms (and antiphons if used) except for Compline; Compline begins with the Confession and Absolution, then jumps to the Psalms.
• All Gloria Patris are omitted.
• A penitential responsory replaces the 1st canticle at Morning and Evening Prayer
• All hymns are omitted
• The Offices conclude early. After the Gospel/second canticle of Morning and Evening Prayer, the Lord’s Prayer and the Collect of the Day are said at which point the Office ends. At Noon Prayer the Lord’s Prayer and Collect of the Day complete the Office immediately after the Psalm(s). At Compline, the Nunc Dimittis without Antiphon follows the Psalms, then the Lord’s Prayer and Collect conclude the hour.

Even the ever-familiar Magnificat takes on a different tone when the office around it shifts a bit. This is a wonderful tradition to know about, and to take part in.

File that under tricks of the trade. Like, how to hold a thurible (working on it), or how to program the bells (via graphing calculator?!), or how to feed a choir so no one faints (working on it)

. . . or how Jesus died so that we too can give our lives away fully to others, and we can be most fully ourselves.

To say it another way, so we can all be most fully alive.

Even when everything is stripped down, and sometimes because of that stripping down, we focus on what's present, what still remains -- what is just as effectual and real as ever -- out of God's abundance and grace.

Labels: Communion, Daily Office, Good Friday, John Shelby Spong, liturgy, Psalms, Walter Russell Bowie

Labels: Anglican chant, Evensong, music theory, Psalms, St John's (Cambridge), William H Harris

We're singing music by Larry King on Sunday.

No, not that Larry King. The other one. The one who was organist at Trinity Church, Wall Street in New York.

Larry King embraced the new electronic possibilities offered by magnetic tape. These iconic 1970's electronic sounds offered a completely new sound world to sacred music -- and they still do.

His pieces with electronic tape haven't really entered the mainstream.

But why not?

The psalms tell us: "Let everything that has breath / praise the LORD." (Ps. 150:6)

Note the two words "everything" and "breath".

It's not people that the Psalmist is after here, it's really about the diversity of instruments. Earlier in Psalm 150 we have "the blast of the rams-horn" (when have you heard one of those lately?), "lyre and harp", "timbrel and dance", "resounding cymbals", "strings and pipe" . .

Well, we at least have the strings and pipe part down, right?

But I think the Psalmist is really imagining a noisy sound world that offers praise to the Triune God.

Sound -- and hence music -- is made of pressurized air waves. That's how we hear pitch, dynamic, timbre, etc. Sound relies on things that have "breath".

Cymbals move the air. They have breath.

Organ pipes certainly have breath. I've always enjoyed early North German organ builders who knew this and drew little faces on their facade pipes so it looked as if they were singing (see here, though really I should be able to illustrate this better). Clearly, the pipes have breath.

And the speakers mounted on the walls of the church . . . maybe the Psalmist couldn't even conceive of this breath back then (neither could he conceive of trombones, I bet), but yes, the speakers, and the wav file and the iPod and the CD and the original electronic tape and the audio system in the church, this too has breath.

I'm electronic music's newest convert, it seems.

"Let everything that has breath
praise the LORD.
Hallelujah!"

Labels: church music, Larry King, Psalms, sounds

The Tompmost Apple asserts that Psalm 151 is appropriate for Sunday next, also known as "Christ the King".

He's right. (Warning: NSFC -- not safe for church)

Labels: Howells, Psalms

Let's focus on a single verse from Sunday's Psalm lection, 95:11

So I swore in my wrath, *
      "They shall not enter into my rest."

Psalm pointing is the craft of divvying up the syllables of this ancient Hebrew poetry (that has since translated into English) so that it might be sung to a chant formula.

In the Anglican choral tradition, the chant formula is often what is known as Anglican chant, but plainsong chant formula is sometimes used (especially in Purple seasons).

Yesterday, Lent 3A, was an interesting case study in Episcopal plainsong psalm pointing. Bruce Ford has pointed settings in the Eucharistic Psalter and James Litton has edited the Plainsong Psalter. The pointing for Psalm 95:11 differs in these two books.

The solution for pointing first part of the verse is simple. This part includes the mediant, which is just a single change from the reciting tone. In this case, simply move on "wrath".

So I swore in my wrath *

Both Psalters agree on this.

The second part is a bit more complicated.

The termination consists of a few more changes from the reciting tone. In this case, a minimum of three pitches. Backing up three syllables gives us the simple answer, as is found in the Eucharistic Psalter.

"They shall not enter in-to my rest."

The other approach would be to nuance this slightly (for what reason? We'll get there). The Plainsong Psalter offers:

"They shall not enter in-to my rest."

In this case, the "my" and "rest" end up being on the same pitch, the last part of the termination.

So, the question at the end of this is, why?

Why wouldn't the first approach work all the time? Is there something inherently more musical or rhetorical about moving the termination back by a syllable? Is it more faithful to the word "rest" if the termination rests on the final syllable? But the verse says that "they shall not enter into my rest". So shouldn't we go with the first one?

Do different editors point psalms differently depending on what tone or chant they have in mind? (I think they do). If so, should they? Or should the pointing be such that it can fit any musical setting?

To what degree is Psalm pointing subjective? should it be subjective?

Labels: Anglican chant, church music, Psalms

At evensong tonight for the Feast of St. Luke we sang Psalm 67.

I'm not sure why we sang 67, but that doesn't metter much to this story. Actually, it makes this story much less effective. It's just that 67 isn't listed in my prayer book, so I'm just not sure where it came from. It is associated with evensong in the 1928 prayer book in as far as it is an alternate to the Nunc after the second lesson.

Anyway, Psalm 67 is also being sung at my wedding, so for me it was a Lukan Psalm convergence at my last evensong as an unmarried man tonight.

May God be merciful to us and bless us, *
     how us the light of his countenance and come to us.
Let your ways be known upon earth, *
     your saving health among all nations.
Let the peoples praise you, O God; *
     let all the peoples praise you.
Let the nations be glad and sing for joy, *
     for you judge the peoples with equity
and guide all the nations upon earth.
     Let the peoples praise you, O God; *
let all the peoples praise you.
     The earth has brought forth her increase; *
may God, our own God, give us his blessing.
     May God give us his blessing, *
and may all the ends of the earth stand in awe of him.

p.s. It's windy outside. It'll be 78º on Sunday.

Labels: liturgy, Psalms, weather, weddings

I don't normally write about work on any kind of current basis, but I had an extraordinary mid-liturgy exegetical experience that I would like to relate.

Thursday evening, at evensong, the psalm was 73. I had been practicing the accompaniment for psalm all week, mostly trying to line up the notes of the chant with the text. For this particular psalm/chant pairing, this task was a bit more exciting due to the number of passing tones. The chant, incidentally, was written by Henry Smart, who was not a dumb composer.

So there I was working away, and it wasn't as if I was ignoring the words (I usually am either singing them or mouthing the words as I work), but I wasn't quite taking in the whole meaning either.

Because once we sang the psalm at evensong, I understoood the meaning of the opening of the psalm for the very first time.

Generally in a double chant two verses are sung to the same chant tone before it repeats.

So, we begin with 8844 on the Swell.

1. Truly, God is good to Israel, *
to those who are pure in heart.

2. But as for me, my feet had nearly slipped; *
I had almost tripped and fallen;

Then, as I reached over to pull on the Oboe, I inadvertently pulled out new shades of meaning. It might have also been that there is a big difference in singing something yourself and having the same bit sung to you. I hadn't connected how dangerously close the psalmist comes to having "tripped and fallen" with what came next. It seems that his envy nearly brought him to do something that he would regret; it brought him to almost "trip and fall". The dark color of the Oboe was the perfect complememnt for the psalmist's description of the "wicked".

3. Because I envied the proud *
and saw the prosperity of the wicked:

4. For they suffer no pain, *
and their bodies are sleek and sound;

It was a strange experience, understanding for the first time what the psalmist's attitude was toward these "hard-bodies", and how it was all tied into the psalmist's feet nearly slipping. I read along as the choir sang, but was also very concious of my accompanying duties.

5. In the misfortunes of others they have no share; *
they are not afflicted as others are;

6. Therefore they wear their pride like a necklace *
and wrap their violence about them like a cloak.

I have to say, it was a unique experience, this real time liturgical exegesis, mostly because it was so distracting! Here I was, contemplating the meaning of the text while I was playing it.

It seems that I was embodying verse 22 of the psalm (which was not sung at evensong).

22. I was stupid and had no understanding; *
I was like a brute beast in your presence.

. . . not so Smart after all . . .

Labels: Anglican chant, Evensong, Psalms, Smart

In the Book of Common Prayer each psalm is prefaced by it's Latin incipit. An astute Prayer Book reader might notice a similarity between the incipits of Psalms 31 and 71.

On page 622:

31      In te, Domine, speravi

And on page 683:

71      In te, Domine, speravi

What's going on?

The two psalms begin in a nearly identical fashion, Psalm 71 stating

In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge; * let me never be ashamed

Psalm 31 has a slightly different division, and adds another plea

In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge; let me never be put to shame; * deliver me in your righteousness.

The second verses of the psalm are eerily similar:

A comparison of verses 2 & 3 in Psalms 31 & 71

Psalm 31:2-3	Psalm 71:2-3
Incline your ear to me; * make haste to deliver me. Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe, for you are my crag and my stronghold; * for the sake of your Name, lead me and guide me.	In your righteousness, deliver me and set me free; * incline your ear to me and save me. Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe; * you are my crag and my stronghold.

So, what's going on here? My Jewish Publication Society Tanakh calls Psalm 31 "anthological". It starts out by borrowing from Psalm 71, then it borrows from other Psalms and Jeremiah. It seems that Psalm 71 is the original.

But there seems to be some Lenten connection too. 71-31=40.

In which Domine are you Speraviing this Lenten season?

Labels: Psalms

Merton Monday, the second Monday of every month on Sinden.org, features an excerpt from the writing of Thomas Merton:

Praise is cheap today. Everything is praised. Soap, beer, toothpaste, clothing, mouthwash, movie stars, all the latest gadgets which are supposed to make life more comfortable--everything is contantly being "praised." Praise is now so overdone that everybody is sick of it . . .

Are there no superlatives left for God? They have all been wasted on foods and quack medicines. There is no word left to express our adoration of Him who alone is Holy, who alone is Lord.

So we go to Him and ask help and to get out of being punished, and to mumble that we need a better job, more money, more of the things that are praised by the advertisements. And we wonder why our prayer is so often dead--gaining its only life, borrowing its only urgency from the fact that we need these things so badly.

Merton, Thomas. Praying the Psalms, Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1956.

Labels: praise, prayer, Psalms, Thomas Merton

Merton Monday, the second Monday of every month on Sinden.org, features an excerpt from the writing of Thomas Merton:

The Church indeed likes what is old, not because it is old but rather it is "young." In the Psalms, we drink divine praise at its pure and stainless source, in all its primitive sincerity and perfection.

Merton, Thomas. Praying the Psalms, p. 7. Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1956.

I think it would be an apt reversal of Merton's thinking to say that what is young ("Praise music") is "old". Tired, worn-out, inauthentic.

You gotta love the Psalms. The source.

Labels: authenticity, Psalms, Thomas Merton