Sing Praise – Page 26 – The Raynville Rambler

O God, be gracious to me in your love

Today’s hymn from “Sing Praise” is “O God, be gracious to me in your love”, a setting of Psalm 51 by Ian Pitt-Watson using a tune by the 17^th century composer Orlando Gibbons.

Psalm 51 as a piece of music is best known in Allegri’s setting of the Latin text known by its first word “Miserere”. It’s a favourite choice as a “romantic” piece of music, which is rather ironic. The words are a confession of a serious sin, the nature of which is not specified, and a commentary I consulted suggests that it was probably written after the Exile rather than before (as evidenced by the last two verses about sacrifices in the Temple), but it’s traditionally associated with King David being confronted about his adultery with Bathsheba as recounted in 2 Samuel chapters 11-12. ‘Adultery’ is itself something of a euphemism here, as she wasn’t in a position to refuse his advances, and that sin was compounded by the arranged killing of her husband when the king found he had got her pregnant.

The words as set here are quite a close rendering of other English translations of the psalm, with a regular metre (I believe iambic pentameter, but I stand to be corrected by literary experts) without attempting to force rhymes. It could therefore be used quite easily as a said version of the psalm rather than as a song, and the theme of confession does of course fit well with the discipline of Lent. What can we learn from it?

The line that stands out for me is “Against you, Lord, you only have I sinned”. This sounds as if I (or David or whoever wrote the psalm) have not actually sinned against anyone else, which seems to fly in the face of experience: while some ‘sins’ may technically be only against God (such as pride, for example) others such as taking your neighbour’s wife as your own and having her husband murdered are obviously offences against those people and those close to them. What might this mean? As one commentary puts it, “sin is ultimately a religious concept rather than an ethical one” – breaking human laws relating to marriage and killing (or any other law) can be dealt with by secular courts, but sin at its heart is falling short of what God expects of us as humans “made in his image”, that is to live in harmony with other people and with nature, and for that we are answerable to a higher authority. And admitting guilt in court is not the same as admitting to God that I am a broken person needing his mercy. If this is David’s story, as King he was probably above the secular law anyway, and it was only when the prophet Nathan turned the facts into a parable about a pet lamb that David’s defences broke down and he showed contrition.

The other point is that for confession to be meaningful there must be a genuine desire both to be forgiven and to change – “wash me and make me whiter than the snow” … “create a clean and contrite heart in me”, to use the translation given here. The final verse of the hymn includes lines that are used at Evensong in the church of England: “O God, make clean our hearts within us, and take not thy Holy Spirit from us.” “Heart” in the Bible tends to refer to the will or desire, rather than emotions, so this is about asking the Spirit to give us right intentions.

Hear me, O Lord, in my distress

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is “Hear me, O Lord, in my distress”, a setting by David Preston of Psalm 143. As I noted yesterday, the Psalms, especially those of lament, feature prominently in Lent.

Unlike many of the psalms that start in complaint and end in praise, this one has a different arc. Certainly it starts in desperation (“Hear me in my distress, give ear to my despairing plea!”) and also asks God not to judge the one who prays (v.2, “yet judge me not, for in your sight no living soul is counted just”). Verses 3 and 4 are marked as optional, but it’s only in verse 4 that there is a sign of hope as the singer recalls good times past (“Days long vanished I review, I see the orders of your hands”) which would seem to make that a verse not to be omitted, as a pivotal point. After that, in v.5 the singer calls again on God to answer without delay and asks “let this day bring word of your unfailing grace”.

But that unfailing grace lies in the future, not the present, for in the last two verses it’s back to the cry to be saved from one’s pursuers, for one’s life to be preserved and set free from oppression. There are other psalms where the singer seems to end by thanking God for deliverance already granted, but not on this occasion. That’s how life is: faith in God may bring relief from a sense of fear and hopelessness, but to be honest there’s no guarantee of that relief coming automatically or immediately. Faith is about knowing there is a bigger story, a higher reality, an eventual triumph of good over evil, rather than every small battle in life going ‘our way’.

The musical setting is Vaughan-Williams’ “This is the truth sent from above”. The tune was familiar to me, therefore easy to pick up. The G minor setting suitably reflects the plaintive words of the hymn, although the final chord of each verse sounds more positive note that doesn’t really find an echo in the words. No doubt John can comment on that.

From the deep places

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is Timothy Dudley-Smith’s “From the deep places, hear my cry”, a setting of Psalm 130. The full text is available online.

Lent seems to attract psalm settings, perhaps because it’s the part of the Bible where there is the largest amount of honesty with God about our fears and failings, which is where the Lent journey starts.

There are also, it seems, more ‘evening hymns’ here, again perhaps because evening worship tends to be more reflective, including looking back at the day and seeing what we could have done better (the fashionable word for this is ‘examen’). Psalm 130 is one of the Bible passages traditionally associated with the late evening service of Compline. In the more literal translation it begins “Out of the depths have I cried to you, Lord”, but TDS’s version is close to that. The second half of that first verse moves on logically to ask God not to keep account of our failings.

The second verse acknowledges God’s glory that we cannot behold without the grace that also comes from God himself. The third asks him to draw near to me in love, and the last one reminds us that God’s love acts like a night-watchman through the night to protect us from harm. As we have heard today that it will be at least another four months before Covid-19 restrictions on movement in England will be fully lifted, the importance of committing ourselves into God’s care is all the more important to our mental and spiritual health. This pattern of reflection, confession, absolution, receiving God’s love, and committing ourselves to his care through the night is matched by most forms of night prayer.

Musically, this is another ‘long metre’ hymn with several possible tunes to be found in any hymn book. The suggested one is ‘Breslau’, a 15^th century German melody (the first line certainly has resonances of later Lutheran hymns). When John sang this at morning prayer, he sensibly changed the first line to “From deepest places…” to align the linguistic stress with the musical one.

From ashes to the livng font

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is “From ashes to the living font” by the American writer Alan Hommerding, set in the book to an old 18^th century tune although it is “common metre” so there are many possible tunes to choose from. Hommerding has written his own tune to it, which he discusses along with the words on a podcast. He explains that it was written for a particular occasion to help parishioners make sense of observing Lent, and that his intention is that during Lent we should not forget the end of the journey (Easter and Pentecost) but have them in mind throughout our spiritual journey.

The opening verse is intended to sum up the idea of the season of Lent as a journey, starting with confession and repentance (Ash Wednesday) and ending with the celebrations of Easter, traditionally a time for new believers to be baptised (symbolised by the font).

The second calls us to use “fasting, prayer and charity” as a way to hear God’s voice in this season. The third verse refers to the Transfiguration of Jesus, a story that occurs twice every year in the lectionary cycle, in Lent and in August. It was a key event in the spiritual journey of his closest disciples (Peter, James and John) as they realised without doubt that Jesus was the son of God, greater even than Moses and Elijah. Few of us will have such a dramatic revelation, but hopefully we will understand something new about Jesus each year.

There are five verses in this setting, but the web page linked above gives, as well as four set verses, separate verses for each Sunday of Lent, of which verse 4 here is the one set for the third Sunday (“For thirsting hearts let water flow, our fainting souls revive, and at the well your waters give our everlasting life”) which is probably intended to go with the story of Jesus and the woman of Samaria.

The last verse starts with a reprise of the opening line, but is explicit about the end of the journey: “through cross and tomb to Easter joy, in Spirit-fire fulfilled”. We look forward in the solemnity of Lent to the resurrection and the giving of the Spirit, without which the fasting and self-denial doesn’t really make sense.

Now as the evening shadows fall

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is “Now as the evening shadows fall”. The words are a paraphrase by the 20^th century composer Michael Forster of an ancient text, the medieval Compline hymn usually rendered in English as “Before the ending of the day”. Compline was the last of the monastic prayer times and so the psalms, prayers and hymns that are regularly used in the service are intended to help us put ourselves right with God and relax into his presence as we go to bed. Forster’s paraphrase is a comforting one, asking God to help us to trust his grace, and to find “in sleep’s release, bodily rest and inner peace”.

What it is missing is the edginess of the older translations where the darkness of night is seen as the domain of the evil one, from whom we need protection: the words of verse two “Help us to find in sleep’s release, bodily rest and inner peace; may the darkness of the night refresh our eyes for morning light” is a far cry from the traditional rendering “From evil dreams defend our sight, from fears and terrors of the night; tread under foot our ghostly foe, that no pollution we may know”. The Latin originals (there is more than one version) are even starker, one of them referring to ‘phantasms’ and asking ‘ne polluantur corpora’ – let not my body be polluted.

The tune is called Blackheath, which is an area of London close to where I used to live. I have happy memories of evenings on the heath, whether sitting on the grass in summer with a pint of beer in a plastic tumbler from one of the pubs along the edge of the heath, watching fireworks, or during the 2012 London Olympics, with hundreds of other people sitting on deckchairs watching the action on a big screen. But I’ve chosen this image of Blackheath in the evening with a funfair. People go on funfair rides to scare themselves, or at least work up excitement (these rides of a travelling fair aren’t as scary as those in a permanent attraction such as Alton Towers). But the fun is perhaps more about coming off the rides at the end of the evening, celebrating having survived the scary experience (maybe with that drink from the bar) and going home happy.

Perhaps that is what Compline is about: we bring to God our excitement, the emotional rollercoaster of the day and sometimes maybe even fear of what the night or the next day might bring, and ask him to take those from us so that we can relax into him and into sleep. At the end of this translation are the lines “Grant us the faith that sets us free to praise you for eternity”. Amen.

Forgive us when…

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is one by Martin Leckebusch from the selection for Lent. The full words can be found on the Jubilate Hymns website. Sing Praise offers two choices of tune, neither familiar to me, and John Hartley has composed one for the occasion in a minor key, but in fact as it is in the frequently used “long metre” (eight syllables per line) there are many suitable tunes and the Jubilate website suggests the well-known “Tallis’s Canon”.

The first line is “Forgive us when our deeds ignore your righteous rule”. In fact all the verses begin “Forgive us…”, which is a good clue to the theme, which is that of penitence (saying sorry to God for the things we’ve done wrong and asking his help not to repeat our mistakes).

Traditionally the sort of sins repented of in Lent were greed, pride, lust and envy – sins of thought more than of deed, for the most part. Not that those are suddenly acceptable these days, and indeed in verse two we confess “dreams of pleasure, wealth and pride” and in verse three “our endless greed for what was never truly ours” (more than a nod to the traditional vices there).

But the focus of what we think of as sin has shifted in recent decades. The things that Martin asks us to repent of include what we might call “woke sins”, thoughts and actions that harm the world and its people and our relationship with nature. More specifically, verse one refers to “decisions that harm the poor”, reflecting the theology of “liberation” or “bias to the poor” that has become popular since the 1960s. Verse three expands the concept of greed beyond personal acquisition to encompass the way “we harness this world’s brutal powers” (meaning perhaps its fossil fuel and nuclear energy, although it may also suggest structural and corporate greed riding roughshod over the poor).

Verse four gives an interesting take on what ‘sin’ might mean in its widest sense: “we change the rules by which the game is played”. The Biblical understanding is that God’s commandments – his rules for living – are for everyone’s benefit. But by changing those rules to benefit ourselves more than others, by making greed a strength and living sustainably with a view to the needs of others a weakness, we undermine the way the world was supposed to work.

The last two lines combine a traditional observance of Lent with this more contemporary understanding as we ask God to “help us walk your holy way, to make your world a better place”. Personal holiness and concern for the world around us are not two opposing or different approaches to religion, they are more like the intertwining strands of DNA or the interplay of electricity and magnetism: only together can they bring life and power into being.

Above the voices of the world around me

Today’s hymn from “Sing Praise” is Timothy Dudley Smith’s “Above the voices of the world around me”. It comes with its own tune, but John played it to the better known Londonderry Air (Danny Boy) which the words do fit, with the odd stretched syllable. The words are copyrighted and too long to be reproduced here without permission but can be found online here.

The three verses are all written in the first person – it’s an introspective hymn – and the theme is being called by Jesus, who is named in each verse. The first is about the voice of Jesus calling me, as the first line has it, “above the voices of the world around me”. His call is, as one would expect from a Lenten hymn, to “turn from sins and put the past behind you, take up your cross and come and follow me”. In Lent we read of Jesus’ temptations in the wilderness where it is the Devil’s voice that tries to distract him from his mission, but the Devil usually works more subtly through other things, whether the classic ‘deadly sins’ of lust, gluttony, anger and so on, or today’s more subtle temptations of TV, social media and Internet.

The second verse asks what my response might be, feeling that I have nothing worthy to offer Jesus, but concludes that “I come … and in repentance turn to you alone”. The Gospels record Jesus calling his motley crew of fishermen, tax collectors and housewives, without asking for any testimonials. When he called Nathaniel Bartholomew, he already saw into his heart and knew him to be a “true Israelite”. If Jesus calls us to serve him, he already knows he has found what he’s looking for: we need no qualifications other than willingness, no reference other than his own death on the cross to make us worthy.

The last verse is the promise to serve in faith. In singing it ith meaning, I ask Jesus to “let me become what you shall choose to make me”, which may well be different from what I had in mind for my life. Some people find themselves called to a life of poverty or celibacy, others to working in dangerous places and among deprived communities, others to long hours of unpaid voluntary work. But all in the name of serving Jesus. What matters is that, as the final line puts it, “in his love my new-born life begins”.

From ashes to ashes

The song I picked for today, Ash Wednesday, is “From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust” by Teresa Brown. It’s another cantor-and-chorus hymn (of which there are several in the Sing Praise collection). The chorus is provided in two alternative forms, one for general use and one specifically for Ash Wednesday, which I quote here:

From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust;
from life through death to eternal life.
Now is the time to turn from sin,
be faithful once more to your God.

The words here echo those of both the sacrament of baptism (dying to sin and rising to new life) and of the funeral rites (“for dust you are, and to dust you shall return: earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust”). Part of the Lenten discipline is about recognising our own insignificance, as yesterday’s setting of Psalm 131 also reminded us. The act of repentance to which we are called may well not be to confess some particular sinful act, but just to admit that we’ve been living as if God doesn’t exist or is irrelevant to our life, or as if we will live for ever.

Many people find that it’s only as we get old enough to recognise our own mortality that we start to understand our place in life as being dependent on God, and part of a much wider existence both in space and time. Ash Wednesday is one of the few major observances in the Christian year that, even in a nominally Christian country, always falls midweek but is not a public holiday. It is therefore an act of discipline in itself to take time out from work or other responsibilities to attend the ashing ceremony, as a reminder that there are more important things in life than work. This year of course few people will have been able to receive the ashes in person and like myself only joined in an online act of penitence. But here’s a photo of one parish priest who in other years has gone down to his local railway station in the morning rush hour to invite commuters to take a few minutes to be prayed for and receive the ashes on their way to work, as a reminder to themselves and others of their commitment to Christ.

The three verses are Trinitarian in structure, the first reminding us that the God who creates us also loves us and waits patiently for us to return from him. The second is a reminder that Jesus also called people to “repent and believe the good news” (repentance should always be seen as a good thing to do, not a necessary evil). The third calls on the Holy Spirit to “guide our hearts and minds today, that we may repent and believe”.

O Lord, my heart is not proud

With apologies, I’m running a day late here. The song I chose for Shrove Tuesday (16 February) was “O Lord, my heart is not proud” by Margaret Rizza. This is a short setting of verses from Psalm 131, and I chose it because it is a psalm of turning back to God, which is very much the theme of this day in the Christian calendar. It’s short enough to be quoted in full:

O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor haughty my eyes.
I have not gone after things too great, nor marvels beyond me.
Truly I have set my soul in silence and peace;
at rest, as a child is in its mother’s arms,
so is my soul. (translation copyright 1963 The Grail)

There is no attempt here to force the words into a set rhythm or rhyming pattern, this is essentially a prayer to be reflected on, equally well spoken as sung. It reminds me of Jesus’ words in Matthew 6:6, “Whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” It’s a reminder that in prayer we do not come to God boasting of our achievements, but rather aware of our limitations. Also that the ideal attitude for prayer is to seek silence in God’s presence and to relax into conversation with him (hopefully not falling asleep, but I don’t believe God minds if we fall asleep in his presence, any more than a mother minds if her child sleeps in her arms).

We need each other’s voice to sing

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is no. 169 “We need each other’s voice to sing” by Thomas Troeger. It’s a traditional style of hymn, though a modern one, and its theme is that in the Church every member needs every other member, a theme common in St Paul’s writings.

The first verse calls us to “set the whole world echoing with one great hymn of praise” and the chorus contains alleluias and refers to the “church’s common chord”. That makes it appropriate to sing approaching the start of Lent this week, because in some Church traditions the word Alleluia is not used at all during this season, as being too joyful for a penitential time.

But the hymn isn’t really or only about musical ability (which is good, because mine is modest). The second verse speaks of having the strength to bear each other’s crosses (a common Christian metaphor for any kind of burden in life) with “acts of love and tender speech”, and honouring the presence of another person as “a gift of God’s incarnate care”. That’s a reminder that in Jesus we no longer live for ourselves but for other people in his name.

The third verse acknowledges differences of opinion in the Church: “we need each other’s views to see the limits of the mind / that God in fact turns out to be far more than we’ve defined”. This is a very important truth: any religious group that claims to know the whole truth about God or to understand God’s requirements without a doubt, is narrow minded and needs to learn from others. There’s a well known parable (not from the Bible, possibly from Buddhist tradition) of several blind people coming across an elephant, each feeling a different part of it (trunk, tail, legs, ears) and arguing that the others can’t have encountered the true elephant at all. If that’s true of a single creature, how much more true of God!

The final verse summarises the first three – we need each other’s voice, strength and views – and then compares our lives to “coals placed side by side to feed each other’s flame”. It’s true that without joining with other Christians in prayer and praise, it’s easy for the fire of enthusiasm for Christ to grow dim or even die out altogether, something that’s a real risk in these Covid times when we can only join in worship remotely on a screen, if at all. So this is perhaps a hymn to keep for use when we can all be back together in church again. Let’s hear that chorus again: “We give our alleluias to the Church’s common chord: Alleluia! Alleluia! Praise, O Praise, O Praise the Lord!”