My choice of hymn this week was prompted by someone who emailed me to say that she had fond memories of singing it at school: ‘Summer suns are glowing’. It seems very appropriate for July, though in fact it is less about summer weather than about the theme of God’s ‘free mercy’, which streams over the whole world, like sunshine. This is developed through images of light, shining, and radiance. Reading or singing the words, we are reminded of the ancient and lovely priestly benediction in Numbers 6:25, ‘the Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace’. This was one of four seasonal hymns written by William Walsham How for a collection entitled Church Hymns, which he co-edited in 1871. He was a prolific writer, and produced nearly sixty hymns, of which a dozen or so are still sung. A much-loved Bishop in East London, he was known variously as ‘the children’s bishop’, ‘the poor man’s bishop’, and ‘the omnibus bishop’ (the last from his preferred means of transport in his diocese). In 1874 ‘Summer sun’ was set to ‘Ruth’, by Samuel Smith (1821–1917), and this has always been the most frequently used tune. I’ve chosen a lovely 2013 Songs of Praise performance by the choir and congregation of St Mary’s Church, Whitby. (The third verse is omitted.)

Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,
Uttered or unexpressed;
The motion of a hidden fire,
That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear,
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try,
Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach
The majesty on high.

Prayer is the contrite sinner’s voice,
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice,
And cry, ‘Behold, He prays!’

Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath,
The Christian’s native air,
His watchword at the gates of death:
He enters heaven with prayer.

In prayer on earth the saints are one,
In word, and deed, and mind,
When with the Father and his Son
Sweet fellowship they find.

Nor prayer is made on earth alone;
The Holy Spirit pleads,
And Jesus, on the eternal throne,
For sinners intercedes.

O Thou, by whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way,
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray!

James Montgomery (1771–1854)

My chosen hymn this week is ‘Precious Lord, take my hand’, the most popular of the early African American gospel songs written from the 1920s onward. The author, Thomas A. Dorsey was a prolific composer, arranger and pianist, known as the ‘Father of Gospel Music’ in honour of his contribution to the genre. He wrote ‘Precious Lord’ in Chicago in 1932 under distressing circumstances. While he was away from home at a revival meeting, his wife died in childbirth and his newborn son died a few days later. Sitting at a piano in his grief, Dorsey remembered an old Sunday-school tune, ‘Maitland’, by George Nelson Allen (1812–77), and as he played it over the words of ‘Precious Lord’ came to him. When it was sung by the choir at Ebenezer Baptist Chapel in Chicago the following Sunday, Dorsey recalled, it ‘tore up the church’. The emotional power of the three verses of this hymn gives it something of the character of an Old Testament Psalm: we confess our helplessness; we cry for divine help in our time of trouble; and we trust that God will guide our feet, take our hand, and lead us home. ‘Precious Lord’ was the favourite gospel song of Martin Luther King, who chose it as one of the ‘freedom anthems’ of the Civil Rights Movement. The great gospel singer, Mahalia Jackson sang it at King’s funeral, following his assassination in April 1968 (and another renowned singer, Arethra Franklin, sang it at Jackson’s own funeral, in 1972). I’ve chosen a memorable 1956 recording from the album ‘Mahalia Jackson Sings the Best-Loved Hymns of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’ and a lovely performance by the Choir of Lincroft Presbyterian Church, New Jersey, recorded during the pandemic in 2020.

Precious Lord, take my hand,
Lead me on, let me stand,
I’m tired, I’m weak, I’m lone;
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light,
Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

When my way grows drear, precious Lord linger near,
When my light is almost gone;
Hear my cry, hear my call,
Hold my hand lest I fall,
Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

When the darkness appears and the night draws near,
And the day is past and gone,
At the river I stand,
Guide my feet, hold my hand;
Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

Thomas A. Dorsey (1899–1993)

My hymn this week is that great song of praise, ‘Glorious things of thee are spoken’. The first two lines are straight from Psalm 87:3, and the hymn as a whole is inspired by Isaiah 33:27–8: Zion will never be broken or removed, but will be the city where ‘the glorious Lord will be unto us a place of broad rivers and streams’. As well as the Heavenly City, Zion is the entire host of God’s people – the creation and the dwelling place of God. The author of this masterpiece of the Evangelical imagination, John Newton, had a most extraordinary life, including a wild youth and ten years as master of a slave ship. Following a religious conversion, he entered Christian ministry as curate of Olney in 1764, and later as rector of St Mary Woolnoth, London. Repenting of his earlier life, he actively worked for the abolition of the slave trade. ‘Glorious things’ was published in Olney Hymns (1779), jointly written with Newton’s friend, the poet William Cowper. It is traditionally sung to ‘Austria’, a grand tune by Haydn, written in 1797, later used as the music for the German national anthem. Also popular is the lovely flowing ‘Abbots Leigh’, composed by Cyril Taylor (1907–91) in 1941. I’ve chosen a spirited rendition of ‘Austria’ by massed choirs of 200 voices recorded at St Andrew’s Church, Chennai, India, in 2019, and a beautiful performance of ‘Abbots Leigh’ by the Caritas Consort, also recorded in 2019.

Glorious things of thee are spoken,
    Zion, City of our God!
He, whose word cannot be broken,
    Formed thee for his own abode:
On the rock of ages founded,
    What can shake thy sure repose?
With salvation’s walls surrounded
    Thou may’st smile at all thy foes.

See! the streams of living waters,
    Springing from eternal love,
Well supply thy sons and daughters,
    And all fear of want remove:
Who can faint while such a river
    Ever flows their thirst t’assuage?
Grace, which like the Lord, the Giver,
    Never fails from age to age.

Round each habitation hov’ring,
    See the cloud and fire appear!
For a glory and a cov’ring,
    Showing that the Lord is near:
Thus deriving from their banner
    Light by night, and shade by day;
Safe they feed upon the Manna
    Which he gives them when they pray.

Saviour, if of Zion’s city
    I, through grace, a member am,
Let the world deride or pity,
    I will glory in thy name:
Fading is the worldling’s pleasure,
    All his boasted pomp and show;
Solid joys and lasting treasure
    None but Zion’s children know.
                   John Newton (1725–1807)

My chosen hymn this week is one that is particularly popular in Scotland, ‘Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side’. It is a translation of a German hymn written by Katharina von Schlegel, of whom we know little except that she was born in 1697, may have come from an aristocratic family, and may have been head of the Evangelical Lutheran nunnery in Köthen, north of Halle. Her hymn, ‘Stille, mein Wille: dein Jesus hilft siegen’, was first published in 1752. About a hundred years later, Jane Laurie Borthwick, a member of the Free Church of Scotland, translated it into English. In collaboration with her sister, Sarah Laurie Findlater, Borthwick did much to introduce German hymns into Britain in the nineteenth century. She never married, but devoted her life to the education of the poor, and to the domestic and foreign missionary work of the Free Church of Scotland. When ‘Be still, my soul’ first appeared, in Hymns from the Land of Luther (Edinburgh, 1855), it was entitled ‘Submission’, followed by a quotation from Luke 21:19, ‘In your patience possess ye your souls’. The opening lines also echo Psalm 46:10, ‘Be still, and know that I am God’, and the last two lines of the second verse recall the words of Jesus in Mark 4:41, as he stilled the storm. Part of the continuing popularity of Borthwick’s hymn in the twentieth century is due to the inspired decision in the Revised Church Hymnary of 1927 to set it to the grand chorale-like tune in Sibelius’s Finlandia (1900). I’ve chosen a beautiful performance by the Choir of Paisley Abbey, recorded in 1972.

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
    Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
    In every change he faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
    To guide the future as he has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
    All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
    And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know his love, his heart,
    Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay,
From his own fullness, all he takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
    When we shall be for ever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
    Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

            Katharina Amalia Dorothea von Schlegel (1697–?)
                            Trans. Jane Laurie Borthwick (1813–97)

This Sunday, 4 July, has been designated ‘Thank You Day’, and so I’ve chosen for my hymn this week a beautiful and thoughtful expression of thankfulness to God for all his blessings to us. It is a hymn often sung at harvest festival services, but there is no reason to confine it to harvest time. Particularly in the second verse, it opens out into a wider concept of ‘harvests’ as something that we share as well as receive with gratitude. As well as thanking those who labour to provide us with the goods we need, we should give them a ‘just reward’; we should help our neighbours, and care for the ‘hungry and despairing’, and we should share the ‘harvests’ of the spirit that we thank God for, above all ‘that love has found us’. The hymn here echoes the call for generosity to the ‘stranger, the fatherless, and the widow’ in Deuteronomy 24:19–22. Fred Pratt Green, the author, was a prominent Methodist minister, who wrote poetry, and became known as one of the outstanding modern hymn-writers. ‘For the fruits of his creation’ was written to be sung to ‘East Acklam’, a tune composed in 1957 by Francis Alan Jackson (1917– ), composer and organist at York Minister for many years. I’ve chosen a lovely performance by the choir of Jesus College Cambridge, recorded in 2018.

For the fruits of his creation,
    Thanks be to God;
For his gifts to every nation,
    Thanks be to God;
For the ploughing, sowing, reaping,
Silent growth while we are sleeping,
Future needs in earth’s safe-keeping,
    Thanks be to God.

In the just reward of labour,
    God’s will be done;
In the help we give our neighbour,
    God’s will be done;
In our world-wide task of caring
    For the hungry and despairing,
In the harvests we are sharing,
    God’s will be done.

For the harvests of his Spirit,
    Thanks be to God;
For the good we all inherit,
    Thanks be to God;
For the wonders that astound us,
For the truths that still confound us,
Most of all, that love has found us,
    Thanks be to God.
                  Fred Pratt Green (1903–2000)

My choice this week is a joyful hymn of praise, ‘Let all the world in every corner sing’. It is by the seventeenth-century poet and priest George Herbert, and first appeared shortly after his death in 1633 in a collection of his religious poems entitled The Temple. Unlike others of his poems that have become hymns, Herbert seems to have written this one specifically for singing in church. It closely echoes words from the Psalms, especially the opening of Psalm 95, the ‘Venite’, sung each day in Mattins: ‘O come, let us sing unto the Lord: let us heartily rejoice in the strength of our salvation. / Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving: and show ourselves glad in him with psalms. / For the Lord is a great God: and a great King above all gods. / In his hands are all the corners of the earth: and the strength of the hills is his also.’ It is characteristic of Herbert’s ‘heart religion’ to stress that, although the Church sings (‘shouts’) psalms of praise, it is ‘above all, the heart’ which must continue ‘longest’ praising God. Various tunes have been composed for Herbert’s poem, but the best known is the splendid ‘Luckington’, by Basil Harwood (1859–1949), named after a village near Malmesbury in Wiltshire. I’ve chosen a wonderfully spirited and uplifting ‘Songs of Praise’ rendition, and, as a bonus, a link to a performance of Ralph Vaughan Williams’s truly glorious setting in his Five Mystical Songs (1911), sung by Stanford Chamber Chorale and the Choir of The Queen’s College, Oxford, in 2019.

Let all the world in every corner sing,
            My God and King!
     The heavens are not too high,
     His praise may thither fly;
     The earth is not too low,
     His praises there may grow,
Let all the world in every corner sing,
            My God and King!

Let all the world in every corner sing,
            My God and King!
     The Church with psalms must shout,
     No door can keep them out;
     But, above all, the heart
     Must bear the longest part.
Let all the world in every corner sing,
            My God and King!

George Herbert (1593–1633)

Do not be afraid,
for I have redeemed you.
I have called you by your name;
you are mine.

When you walk through the waters,
I’ll be with you.
You will never sink beneath the waves.

When the fire is burning
all around you,
you will never be consumed by the flames.

When the fear of loneliness
is looming,
then remember I am at your side.

When you dwell in the exile
of a stranger,
remember you are precious in my eyes.

You are mine, O my child;
I am your Father,
and I love you with a perfect love.
Gerard Markland (1953– )

My hymn this week is ‘Do not be afraid’. Written in 1978, its message of trust in a God who loves us with a ‘perfect love’ has, if anything, become even more relevant during the pandemic, and as we face the challenges of climate change. The chorus is straight out of the beautiful opening of Isaiah 43, ‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name, you are mine’. Other verses also use words from this chapter – ‘when you pass through the waters, I will be with you’; ‘when you walk through the fire, you will not be burned’; ‘you are precious and honoured in my sight, and … I love you’. The author of this well-known hymn is Gerard Markland, an English Roman Catholic writer and teacher. He also composed the tune, and the words and music first appeared in Songs of the Spirit (Kevin Mayhew, 1978). In 2010, a leading composer of religious music, Philip W. J. Stopford (b. 1977) accepted a commission to write a choral setting of Markland’s words. Stopford’s version expresses most movingly the calmness that comes from placing our trust in God. I have chosen a solo performance of Markland’s original tune by Marilla Ness (an immensely popular Christian singer, born in Northern Ireland), and a performance of Stopford’s choral setting recorded in 2012 by Truro Cathedral Choir.

My hymn this week, ‘Come, we that love the Lord’, was originally entitled ‘Heavenly Joy on Earth’. This great hymn does indeed celebrate the joy of the Christian life here and now on this earth, in which we experience ‘a thousand sacred sweets’ even before we reach ‘the heavenly fields, / Or walk the golden streets’. The line ‘marching through Immanuel’s ground’ in the magnificent final verse is an allusion to Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress, where the pilgrims pass through ‘Immanuel’s Land’, a place of refreshment among ‘Delectable Mountains’, before, eventually, they enter the Celestial City. The verse also echoes Isaiah 35:10, ‘the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away’. The author of ‘Come, we that love the Lord’ was Isaac Watts, a Congregational minister and one of the greatest of all English hymn-writers. First published in his collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs (1707) as a hymn of ten verses, it is now usually shortened to the four verses given below. This is understandable, though I’m sorry to lose the lines ‘Religion never was designed / To make our Pleasures less’. The refrain is not by Watts; it was added in 1868 by the prolific American hymn-writer and composer, Robert Lowry (1826–99), who also provided a rousing new tune, ‘Marching to Zion’. Of many performances available on YouTube, I’ve chosen a lovely one by the Coventry Singers, recorded in 2013.

       Come, we that love the Lord,
       And let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
       And thus surround the throne.

            We’re marching to Zion,
                Beautiful, beautiful Zion;
            We’re marching upward to Zion,
                The beautiful city of God.

       Let those refuse to sing,
       Who never knew our God;
But children of the heav’nly King
       May speak their joys abroad.

       The hill of Zion yields
       A thousand sacred Sweets
Before we reach the heav’nly fields,
       Or walk the golden streets.

       Then let our songs abound,
       And ev’ry tear be dry;
We’re marching through Immanuel’s ground
       To fairer worlds on high.
                                    Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

On Wednesday 9 June, we remember St Columba, founder of a monastery on Iona in 563. He was the author of several hymns, including my choice this week, ‘Christ is the world’s redeemer’. This was part of a longer Latin hymn, which survives in two manuscripts, first published in Dublin in 1869. Duncan MacGregor, minister of Inverallochy, translated it into English for the commemoration of the 1,300th anniversary of Columba’s death, held on Iona, 9 June 1897. The hymn is very much in the tradition of Celtic Christianity, with its stress on inclusiveness. The first verse celebrates Christ as ‘the Lord of earth and sky’ as well as our redeemer, lover, fount of wisdom, trust, hope, armour, health, and everlasting life. The next two verses expand on his salvation of the world through his death, resurrection, and ascension, and the hymn ends with a grand doxology. J. R. Watson describes it as ‘a hymn filled with the joyful spirit that sent St Columba to Iona, and inspired his disciples to convert Scotland and the north of England’. It is sung to the Irish tune ‘Moville’ (referring to Movilla Abbey, County Down, where Columba went to school). I’ve chosen a fine performance by The Priory Singers, Belfast, recorded in 2002, which catches well the ‘joyful spirit’ of the ancient missionary monks.

Christ is the world’s redeemer,
    The lover of the pure,
The fount of heavenly wisdom,
    Our trust and hope secure,
The armour of his soldiers,
    The lord of earth and sky,
Our health while we are living,
    Our life when we shall die.

Christ has our host surrounded
    With clouds of martyrs bright,
Who wave their palms in triumph,
    And fire us for the fight.
Christ the red Cross ascended
    To save a world undone,
And, suffering for the sinful,
    Our full redemption won.

Down in the realm of darkness
    He lay a captive bound,
But at the hour appointed
    He rose, a victor crowned;
And now, to heaven ascended,
    He sits upon the throne,
Whence he had ne’er departed,
    His Father’s and his own.

All glory to the Father,
    The unbegotten One;
All honour be to Jesus,
    His sole-begotten Son;
And to the Holy Spirit,
    The perfect Trinity.
Let all the worlds give answer:
    Amen: so let it be!
                             St Columba (521–97)

Trans. Duncan MacGregor (1854–1923)

My hymn this week is the best-known hymn for Trinity Sunday: ‘Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!’

My hymn this week is the best-known hymn for Trinity Sunday: ‘Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!’ The great Victorian poet Tennyson thought it was the finest hymn ever written, and it is easy to see why. The subject of the Holy Trinity is a complex one, but this hymn expresses its mystery and magnificence in memorable words and images. It draws on verses from Revelation chapter four describing heaven, with its ‘sea of glass like unto crystal’, where praises ascend to God day and night: ‘Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come’. The three-in-one of the Trinity is emphasized throughout, not only in the repeated three ‘Holies’ but in other triple combinations like ‘power … love … purity’, ‘earth … sea … sky’. The author of this marvellous hymn was Reginald Heber, who wrote it while vicar of Hodnet in Shropshire. He was one of the pioneers of hymn-writing in the Church of England, and it is extraordinary to think that in 1820, when he sought permission from the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London to publish a book of hymns for use by Anglicans they refused his request! ‘Holy, holy, holy’ first appeared in 1826, and then, after Heber’s premature death in India, in a collection put together by his widow, Hymns Written and Adapted to the Weekly Church Service of the Year (1827). The tune to which it is always sung is ‘Nicaea’, by John Bacchus Dykes (1823–76), one of Dykes’s grandest compositions. I’ve chosen a beautiful performance by Cape Town Massed Choirs, accompanied by the Cape Town Philharmonic Orchestra, recorded in 2019.

Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!
    Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee;
Holy, Holy, Holy! merciful and mighty!
    God in three Persons, blessèd Trinity!

Holy, Holy, Holy! all the Saints adore thee,
    Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;
Cherubim and Seraphim falling down before thee,
    Which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be.

Holy, Holy, Holy! though the darkness hide thee,
    Though the eye of sinful man, thy glory may not see:
Only thou art holy, there is none beside thee
    Perfect in power, in love, and purity.

Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!
    All thy works shall praise thy name, in earth and sky and sea;
Holy, Holy, Holy! merciful and mighty!
    God in three Persons, blessèd Trinity!

Reginald Heber (1783–1826)

My hymn this week is one often sung at Pentecost, ‘Our blest Redeemer, ere he breathed’.

My hymn this week is one often sung at Pentecost, ‘Our blest Redeemer, ere he breathed’.

It opens with the promise Jesus gave his disciples that after his death he would send a ‘Comforter’, the Holy Spirit, who would teach them all things (John 14:16, 26). It then takes up the account in Acts 2:1–4 of the descent of the Holy Spirit on the Apostles at Pentecost in ‘cloven tongues as of fire’, and proceeds to explore the attributes and work of the Spirit in the lives of believers. The author of this hymn, Harriet (originally Henriette) Auber, was descended from Huguenot refugees who had settled in Spitalfields. Her father became a rector in the Church of England, and she seems to have had an uneventful life, spent mainly at Hoddesdon, Hertfordshire. She devoted herself to writing religious poetry, and in 1829 published an anthology of hymns and poems entitled The Spirit of the Psalms. Although including other authors, it was mainly her own work. Auber lived for many years with Mary Jane McKenzie, a writer of novels and religious works. The relationship was evidently a close one. When she died, Auber was buried beside her companion, who had died a few years earlier. ‘Our blest Redeemer’ became widely known through its inclusion in Hymns Ancient and Modern (1861), set to ‘St Cuthbert’ by John Bacchus Dykes (1823–76). I have chosen an attractive performance recorded in 2014 by the Scottish Festival Singers.

Our blest Redeemer, ere he breathed
    His tender last farewell,
A Guide, a Comforter, bequeathed
    With us to dwell.

He came in semblance of a dove
    With sheltering wings outspread,
The holy balm of peace and love
    On us to shed.

He came in tongues of living flame
    To teach, convince, subdue,
All powerful as the wind he came,
    As viewless too.

He came sweet influence to impart,
    A gracious, willing guest,
While he can find one humble heart
  Wherein to rest.

And his that gentle voice we hear,
    Soft as the breath of even,
That checks each fault, that calms each fear,
    And speaks of heaven.

And every virtue we possess,
    And every conquest won,
And every thought of holiness,
    Are his alone.

Spirit of purity and grace,
    Our weakness, pitying, see;
O make our hearts thy dwelling place,
    And worthier thee.
                     Harriet Auber (1773–1862)

My hymn this week is ‘At the name of Jesus’.

This fine Ascension Day hymn is based on Philippians 2:9–11, where Jesus, ‘highly exalted’ by God, is given ‘a name . . . above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow . . . and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord’. The author, Caroline Maria Noel, came from a prominent Evangelical family.

Her father was vicar of Romsey in Hampshire, and an uncle, the Hon. Baptist Wriothesley Noel, though at first a chaplain to Queen Victoria came to believe in adult baptism and joined the Baptists. She began writing poetry at seventeen, but left it aside and only took it up again in her forties, when she became seriously ill.

Over the next twenty-five years, she published a large number of hymns. ‘At the name of Jesus’ appeared in 1870, in a collection entitled The Name of Jesus, and other Verses for the Sick and Lonely. Four of its original eight verses not sung nowadays, but the hymn still gives voice to the great themes of Creation, Redemption, and Christ’s Ascension and Second Coming.

Though set to different tunes, the most popular is ‘Camberwell’, a vigorous tune published in 1960 by John Michael Brierley (b. 1932), a vicar in Worcestershire who produced much modern music for hymns. I’ve chosen a lively performance by Westminster Hall Choir and the Epworth Singers.

At the name of Jesus
    Every knee shall bow,
Every tongue confess him
    King of glory now;
’Tis the Father’s pleasure
    We should call him Lord,
Who from the beginning
    Was the mighty Word.

Humbled for a season,
    To receive a name
From the lips of sinners
    Unto whom he came,
Faithfully he bore it
Spotless to the last,
Brought it back victorious
    When from death he passed:

Bore it up triumphant,
    With its human light,
Through all ranks of creatures,
    To the central height,
To the throne of Godhead,
    To the Father’s breast,
Filled it with the glory
    Of that perfect rest.

Brothers, this Lord Jesus
    Shall return again,
With his Father’s glory,
    With his Angel train;
For all wreaths of empire
    Meet upon his brow,
And our hearts confess him
    King of glory now.

     Caroline Maria Noel (1817–77)

When I was a boy, my mother sent my sisters and me to the local Salvation Army, to top up what we got from the Presbyterians on Sundays. My choice of hymn this week was a great Salvation Army favourite: ‘Shall we gather at the river’. The words and music of this extraordinarily popular hymn are by Robert Lowry, at that time pastor of Hanson Place Baptist Church in New York, who wrote them in 1864 during a terrible outbreak of cholera. Lowry was a prolific hymn-writer, who published nearly twenty collections and composed many memorable tunes. He described how one hot afternoon he asked himself why so many hymns were written about the river of death, and why so few about the river of life that had been described in the opening verse of Revelation 22: ‘he showed me a pure river of water of life, proceeding out of the throne of God’. Fifteen minutes later, he had written the words of ‘Shall we gather’ and was composing a tune he named ‘Hanson Place’ at his parlour organ. Despite it becoming one of his greatest ‘hits’, Lowry did not much like the hymn, putting its success down to the ‘brass-band march-movement’ music. It may not be a great work of literature, but we might at least note Lowry’s resourcefulness in finding rhymes for ‘river’. Years later, overhearing it sung on a train by half-drunk lumberjacks, Lowry reflected that perhaps its spirit ‘might somehow . . . be carried forward into the lives of those careless men, and ultimately lift them upward to the realization of the hope it expressed’. In honour of its Baptist origins, I’ve chosen a heartfelt rendition by the congregation at Rowley Baptist Church, recorded in June 2010. I’ve also included a link to the famous setting of ‘Shall we gather’ by Aaron Copland, sung with great power and beauty by the American baritone Shea Owens (no relation!).

Shall we gather at the river,
    Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide forever
    Flowing by the throne of God?

Yes, we’ll gather at the river,
    The beautiful, the beautiful river;
Gather with the saints at the river
    That flows by the throne of God.

On the margin of the river,
    Dashing up its silver spray,
We will talk and worship ever,
    All the happy golden day.

Ere we reach the shining river,
    Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
    And provide a robe and crown.

At the shining of the river,
    Mirror of the Saviour’s face,
Saints, whom death will never sever
    Lift their songs of saving grace.

Soon we’ll reach the silver river,
    Soon our pilgrimage will cease;
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
    With the melody of peace.
                         Robert Lowry (1826–99)

The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, is Ended’.

My choice this week is one of the loveliest of all hymns: ‘The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended’. It begins gently at evening, as darkness falls, but this day now closing had opened with ‘morning hymns’, and so the hymn suggests beautifully the movement of a whole day of praise of God. This idea of movement is the theme of the following verses, where the Church is keeping watch ‘through all the world’. Over each continent and island, ‘the voice of prayer’ and ‘strain of praise’ are never silent. As one part of the world is saying evening prayers, another part is waking up to morning prayers. This movement will continue, the hymn concludes, until the final establishment of God’s kingdom and its recognition by all his creatures. The author of this famous and much-loved hymn was John Ellerton, a mid-Victorian Anglican clergyman and hymn-writer of ‘Broad Church’ and Christian Socialist views, who, it is said composed many of his hymns as he walked to teach classes at a Mechanics Institute attended by railway workers. Some have complained of ‘imperialist overtones’ in ‘The day thou gavest’, but Ellerton is surely writing of a spiritual ‘empire’, which, unlike ‘earth’s proud empires’ will never pass away. The tune ‘St Clement’, composed in 1874 by Clement Scholefield (1839–1904) carries the sweep of the long lines admirably. It has remained popular, surviving an attack by no less than the Archbishop of Canterbury, Cosmo Gordon Lang, who in 1932 denounced it in The Times as a ‘feeble waltz’ and called for its abolition! No matter, I’ve chosen what I think is a completely beautiful performance by the Choir of the Abbey School Tewkesbury, recorded in 2001.

The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended,
The darkness falls at thy behest;
To thee our morning hymns ascended,
Thy praise shall sanctify our rest.

We thank thee that thy Church unsleeping,
While earth rolls onward into light,
Through all the world her watch is keeping,
And rests not now by day or night.

As o’er each continent and island
The dawn leads on another day,
The voice of prayer is never silent,
Nor dies the strain of praise away.

The sun that bids us rest is waking
Our brethren ’neath the western sky,
And hour by hour fresh lips are making
Thy wondrous doings heard on high.

So be it, Lord; thy throne shall never,
    Like earth’s proud empires, pass away;
Thy kingdom stands, and grows forever,
    Till all thy creatures own thy sway.
                         John Ellerton (1826–93)

My hymn this week – ‘O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder’ – is a great favourite, but its origins are exceedingly complicated. It started out as a Swedish hymn, ‘O store Gud’ (‘O great God’), written in 1866 by a well-known preacher in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Sweden, Carl Gustav Boberg. He was inspired to write it after looking over the calm waters of the Monsteras inlet on the south east coast of Sweden as a rainbow appeared following a storm and a church bell was tolling in the distance. When first published in 1891, ‘O store Gud’ was set to a Swedish folk melody. In 1907, a German translation appeared. This in turn became the basis of a translation into Russian by Ivan S. Prokhanoff (1869–1935), a notable leader of the evangelical Christian community in St Petersburg, who published it in Moscow in 1927. Stuart Keene Hine, a Plymouth Brethren missionary working in Eastern Europe between 1923 and 1939, heard this Russian version sung in the Ukraine. Much struck by it, he began a free translation into English while travelling in the Carpathian Mountains on the border of Russia and Romania, where the spectacular scenery inspired him to add verses of his own. He brought three verses back with him to England, where he added a fourth, perhaps inspired by the flood of homeless refugees arriving from Russia and Poland in 1948. This English version appeared in print in 1949, and quickly became popular in many countries, particularly where Billy Graham promoted it in his evangelistic campaigns of 1950s and 1960s. Its evocation in simple words and imagery of the religious awe many people feel in nature, together with the wonderfully expressive Swedish folk tune, have made it internationally renowned. I’ve chosen two ‘Songs of Praise’ performances. One is by the congregation in Winchester Cathedral in 2014; the other is a solo by Katherine Jenkins, recorded in 2018.

O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder
Consider all the works thy hand hath made,
I see the stars, I hear the mighty thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed:

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to thee,
How great thou art! How great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to thee,
How great thou art! How great thou art!

When through the woods and forest glades I wander
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees:
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur,
And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze:
Then sings my soul…

And when I think that God, his Son not sparing,
Sent him to die – I scarce can take it in:
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin:
Then sings my soul…

When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home – what joy shall fill my heart!
Then shall I bow in humble adoration
And there proclaim, my God, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul…

Carl Gustav Boberg (1859–1940)

Translated and adapted by Stuart Hine (1899–1989)

My hymn this week is Charles Wesley’s ‘Rejoice, the Lord is King’. Although now often sung at Ascensiontide, Wesley intended it for singing at Easter, publishing it in 1746 in Hymns for our Lord’s Resurrection. It is a richly allusive hymn, particularly in the refrains. All except the last use words from the ancient Eucharistic text, Sursum Corda (‘Lift up your hearts’) and from Philippians 4:4, ‘Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice’. In the final verse, the refrain changes to words drawn from 1 Thessalonians 4:16, describing how at the Second Coming Christ will descend from heaven ‘with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God’. ‘Rejoice, the Lord is King’ was originally sung to a tune by Wesley’s friend, John Frederick Lampe but is now sung to ‘Gopsal’, one of three settings by Handel of hymns by Wesley. Although he composed them between 1749 and 1752, Handel never published the settings, and they were unknown until 1826, when Samuel Wesley (Charles’s son) discovered them in the library of the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, and arranged for their publication. The name ‘Gopsal’ was given to the tune in honour of Charles Jennens, who arranged the texts for Handel’s Messiah and had lived at Gopsal Hall in Leicestershire. I’ve chosen a fine performance by York Minster Choir, recorded in 1996. (It omits the fourth verse.)

Rejoice, the Lord is King!
    Your Lord and King adore;
Mortals, give thanks, and sing,
    And triumph evermore:
        Lift up your heart, lift up your voice;
        Rejoice! Again I say, Rejoice!

Jesus, the Saviour, reigns,
The God of truth and love;
When he had purged our stains,
He took his seat above:

His kingdom cannot fail,
He rules o’er earth and heaven;
The keys of death and hell
Are to our Jesus given:

He sits at God’s right hand
Till all his foes submit,
And bow to his command,
And fall beneath his feet:

Rejoice in glorious hope;
    Jesus the Judge shall come,
And take his servants up
    To their eternal home:
        We soon shall hear the archangel’s voice;
        The trump of God shall sound: Rejoice!

Charles Wesley (1707–88)

The strife is o’er, the battle done;
Now is the victor’s triumph won;
O let the song of praise be sung:
                                       Alleluia!

Death’s mightiest powers have done their worst,
And Jesus hath his foes dispersed;
Let shouts of praise and joy outburst:
                                       Alleluia!

On the third morn he rose again
Glorious in majesty to reign;
O let us swell the joyful strain:
                                     Alleluia!

He brake the age-bound chains of hell;
The bars from heaven’s high portals fell;
Let hymns of praise his triumph tell:
                                    Alleluia!

Lord, by the stripes which wounded thee,
From death’s dread sting thy servants free,
That we may live, and sing to thee:
                                    Alleluia!

         Latin hymn from the seventeenth century (?)
                             trans. Francis Pott (1832–1909)

My hymn this week is another great statement of the Easter message: ‘The strife is o’er, the battle done’. The theme is the victory over the powers of death and hell won for us by Christ through his resurrection ‘on the third morn’. The strong, clinching rhymes that bind together each of the three-line verses add to the overall effect of ‘triumph won’. The origin of this hymn is unknown. The earliest source for it is in a Jesuit book, published in Cologne in 1695, but it may be much earlier than that, perhaps even going as far back as the twelfth century. John Mason Neale (1818–66) made the first translation into English, in his Mediaeval Hymns and Sequences (1851). Ten years later, Francis Pott translated it afresh and published it in his Hymns Fitted to the Order of Common Prayer (1861), and his translation was the one that became established. Pott, who became rector of Northill, Bedfordshire, in 1866, wrote other well-known hymns, among them ‘Angel voices, ever singing’. He was on the original committee that produced Hymns Ancient and Modern in 1861, where ‘The strife is o’er’ was set to a wonderful tune, ‘Victory’, adapted by William Henry Monk (1823–89) from the Gloria Patri of Palestrina’s Magnificat Tertii Toni of 1591. This perfectly captures the dignified and measured style of the hymn. I’ve chosen an attractive, stately performance by the Choir of Truro Cathedral, recorded in 2005.

My hymn this week is one of the greatest of all Easter hymns: ‘Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia’. The short, clear statement of faith in each line followed by the resounding ‘Alleluia’ make it an instantly accessible and memorable expression of the joyousness of Easter. Apparently, the medieval church forbade the use of ‘Alleluia’ from the ninth Sunday before Easter (Septuagesima) right up to Easter, and so, as J. R. Watson remarks, the effect of the continued repetition of the word on Easter Day must have been tremendous at that time. The names of the author, translator, and composer of the music for this hymn are unknown. The text originated in the form of a three-verse Latin hymn, ‘De Resurrectione Domini’ found in a Munich manuscript of the fourteenth century. Its first appearance in English was in 1708, in Lyra Davidica, or, A Collection of Divine Songs and Hymns. This presented a literal translation of the Latin, but in John Arnold’s Compleat Psalmodist of 1749, there were significant changes to the text. The second verse in 1708 was: ‘Haste ye females from your fright, / Take to Galilee your flight. / To his sad disciples say / Jesus Christ is risen today.’ The revised verse (the one we now sing, as below) strikes me as a regrettable example of the editing out of references to women in Christian worship, even when the references come straight from the Gospels themselves. Sometimes a fourth verse is added as a ‘doxology’, but the performance I’ve chosen includes only the three verses, as in the original. It is a BBC recording of a grand Easter service at Hereford Cathedral in 2017.

Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!
Our triumphant holy day, Alleluia!
Who did once, upon the cross, Alleluia!
Suffer to redeem our loss, Alleluia!

Hymns of praise then let us sing, Alleluia!
Unto Christ, our heavenly King, Alleluia!
Who endured the cross and grave, Alleluia!
Sinners to redeem and save, Alleluia!

But the pain which He endured, Alleluia!
Our salvation hath procured, Alleluia!
Now above the sky He’s king, Alleluia!
Where the angels ever sing, Alleluia!

Since it is Palm Sunday this week, my chosen hymn is the wonderfully dramatic ‘Ride on! ride on in majesty!’ The hymn contrasts the ‘majesty’ of Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem with the ‘humble beast’ on which he rides. A commentary on the events follows each repeated first line – full of foreboding in the first three verses, but then looking forward to the triumph of the Resurrection and Ascension in the last two. The whole hymn conveys powerfully a sense of the significance of his ride into Jerusalem where Jesus will face his greatest, most terrible ordeal. Even the angels in heaven look down ‘with sad and wondering eyes’ at the spectacle of this ‘approaching sacrifice’. The author, Henry Hart Milman, was vicar of St Mary’s, Reading and rector of St Margaret’s, Westminster before becoming Dean of St Paul’s. A skilled poet, he sent this hymn to Reginald Heber who was compiling a book of Hymns Written and Adapted to the Weekly Church Service of the Year (published in 1827). The most usual tune is ‘Winchester New’, based on a melody first published in a hymnbook in Hamburg in 1690. William Henry Havergal (1793–1870) edited the seventeenth-century tune, and in this revised form it appeared in the first edition of Hymns Ancient and Modern (1861). I’ve chosen a fine rendition by the choir and congregation of King’s College, Cambridge, with a gloriously rich organ accompaniment and wonderful descant singing in the last verse.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
Hark, all the tribes hosanna cry;
Thine humble beast pursues his road
With palms and scattered garments strowed.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die;
O Christ, thy triumphs now begin
O’er captive death and conquered sin.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
The wingèd squadrons of the sky
Look down with sad and wondering eyes
To see the approaching sacrifice.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh;
The Father on his sapphire throne
Expects his own anointed Son.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die;
Bow thy meek head to mortal pain,
Then take, O God, thy power, and reign.
Henry Hart Milman (1791–1868)

‘How sweet the name of Jesus sounds’.

My hymn this week is a great favourite: ‘How sweet the name of Jesus sounds’. The author, John Newton, included it in Olney Hymns (1779), the famous collection he edited with his friend the poet William Cowper. Inspired by a quotation from the Song of Solomon, 1:3 – ‘Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee’ – Newton develops this into a hymn all about the sweetness and power of the name of Jesus. This name speaks to every human situation in which we may find ourselves. It soothes and heals, banishes fear, makes wounded spirits whole, calms troubled breasts. It is a rock, a shield, a treasury of ‘boundless stores of grace’. The fourth verse reminds us of all the offices of Jesus in a list replete with images from the Old and New Testaments. No praise is great enough for such a name; its ‘music’ will ‘refresh’ our souls at the last moment of our lives and beyond, when we shall see Jesus as he is in heaven. We may feel worn down by all sorts of things – illness, caring responsibilities, loneliness, feeling unloved – but Jesus brings ‘to the weary rest’. He is our ‘Life, our Way, our End’ (see John 14:6). The tune used for this hymn is ‘St Peter’ by Alexander Robert Reinagle (1799–1877), the organist of St Peter-in-the-East Church in Oxford. I’ve chosen a suitably sweet performance by The Coventry Singers, recorded in 2013.

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer’s ear!
It soothes his sorrow, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.

It makes the wounded spirit whole
And calms the troubled breast;
’Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary rest.

Dear name! the rock on which I build;
My shield and hiding-place;
My never-failing treasury, filled
With boundless stores of grace!

Jesus, my Saviour, Brother, Friend,
My Prophet, Priest, and King,
My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,
Accept the praise I bring.

Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought;
But when I see thee as thou art,
I’ll praise thee as I ought.

Till then I would thy love proclaim
    With every fleeting breath;
And may the music of thy name
    Refresh my soul in death.
                 John Newton (1725–1807)

Lord, for the years your love has kept and guided,
    urged and inspired us, cheered us on our way,
sought us and saved us, pardoned and provided,
    Lord of the years, we bring our thanks today.

Lord, for that word, the word of life which fires us,
    speaks to our hearts and sets our souls ablaze,
teaches and trains, rebukes us and inspires us:
    Lord of the word, receive your people’s praise.

Lord, for our land, in this our generation,
    spirits oppressed by pleasure, wealth and care;
for young and old, for commonwealth and nation,
    Lord of our land, be pleased to hear our prayer.

Lord, for our world; when we disown and doubt him,
    loveless in strength, and comfortless in pain;
hungry and helpless, lost indeed without him,
    Lord of the world, we pray that Christ may reign.

Lord for ourselves; in living power remake us,
    self on the cross and Christ upon the throne;
past put behind us, for the future take us,
    Lord of our lives, to live for Christ alone.
                         Timothy Dudley-Smith (1926– )

‘On the Way’ is a project in the Diocese of Truro to help deaneries develop plans for a ‘fruitful and sustainable’ future.

On The Way – Truro Diocese : Truro Diocese

I thought that a hymn relevant to this project would be ‘Lord, for the years your love has kept and guided’, by the popular hymn-writer and Bishop of Thetford, Timothy Dudley-Smith. He wrote it in 1967 for the centenary of the Scripture Union, as a fitting hymn of thankfulness for the past and dedication for the future. It opens by looking back at how God’s love has kept and guided, urged and inspired, sought and saved, pardoned and provided for us. For these past blessings, ‘Lord of the years, we bring our thanks today’. The second verse gives thanks for the Scriptures, ‘the word of life’ that fires, speaks to, teaches, rebukes and inspires us. The hymn then moves into our contemporary society, where people’s spirits are ‘oppressed by pleasure, wealth and care’ (there is much to ponder here), and looks across a world that is ‘hungry and helpless’, lost indeed until Christ reigns. Finally, it comes back to us, praying that we might experience the ‘living power’ that can enable us to turn away from our own worldly values, and to rededicate ourselves afresh to Christ for the future. ‘Lord, for the years’ was originally set to a tune from ‘Finlandia’, the tone poem by Sibelius. Now it is always sung to ‘Lord of the Years’, a lovely tune written specially for it by Michael Baughen (1930– ), the Bishop of Chester. I’ve chosen a grand performance by the Huddersfield Choral Society, recorded in 2006.

My hymn this week is, apparently, a great favourite of the Queen: ‘Immortal, invisible, God only wise’. First published in 1867, it only really became popular in the twentieth century, when Ralph Vaughan Williams included it in the English Hymnal (1906) and set it to a majestic Welsh folk tune, ‘St Denio’ (or, sometimes, ‘Joanna’). The hymn is based on 1 Timothy 1:17, ‘Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory for ever and ever’. It also includes phrases from Daniel 7:9, 13 (‘Ancient of Days’), and echoes lines from Psalm 90, Psalm 36:6, and Genesis 1. The author of this famous hymn, Walter Chalmers Smith, was a minister in the Free Church of Scotland, and Moderator of its General Assembly in 1893. He was a prolific writer of poems, as well as religious and devotional works. ‘Immortal, invisible, God only wise’ was included in Smith’s Hymns of Christ and the Christian Life (1867), and was then revised and shortened by William Garrett Horder for his Congregational Hymns (1884). Horder’s revised version was the one adopted for the English Hymnal, and is the only version now included in hymnbooks. I’ve chosen a splendid ‘Songs of Praise’ rendition from Halifax Minister, recorded in 2012.

Immortal, invisible, God only wise,
In light inaccessible hid from our eyes,
Most blessèd, most glorious, the Ancient of Days,
Almighty, victorious, thy great name we praise.

Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light,
Nor wanting, nor wasting, thou rulest in might;
Thy justice like mountains high soaring above
Thy clouds which are fountains of goodness and love.

To all life thou givest, to both great and small;
In all life thou livest, the true life of all;
We blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree,
And wither and perish; but naught changeth thee.

Great Father of glory, pure Father of light,
Thine angels adore thee, all veiling their sight;
All laud we would render: O help us to see
’Tis only the splendour of light hideth thee.

Walter Chalmers Smith (1824–1908)

Judge eternal, throned in splendour,
    Lord of lords and King of kings,
With thy living fire of judgment
    Purge this land of bitter things;
Solace all its wide dominion
    With the healing of thy wings.

Still the weary folk are pining
    For the hour that brings release;
And the city’s crowded clangour
    Cries aloud for sin to cease;
And the homesteads and the woodlands
    Plead in silence for their peace.

Crown, O God, thine own endeavour;
    Cleave our darkness with thy sword;
Feed the faithless and the hungry
    With the richness of thy word;
Cleanse the body of this nation
    Through the glory of the Lord.

Henry Scott Holland (1847–1918)

My hymn this week is an eloquent call for justice and social reform: ‘Judge eternal, throned in splendour’. Based on passages from Old Testament prophets such as Isaiah 33:22 – ‘the LORD is our judge, the LORD is our lawgiver, the LORD is our king: he will save us’ – the hymn prays that God will bring an end to the ‘bitter things’ that disfigure society. The second verse expresses the feelings of ‘weary folk’ in cities and in the countryside who long for ‘release’ and ‘peace’, and the third verse pleads that the hungry will be fed with ‘the richness of [God’s] word’ and that the whole nation will be cleansed ‘through the glory of the Lord’. The author of this powerful hymn, Henry Scott Holland, came from an aristocratic background. He was educated at Eton and Balliol College, Oxford, was ordained in 1872, and held various distinguished Church and academic appointments. From 1910 until his death, he was Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford. As one of a group of High Churchmen who actively campaigned for social reform, Holland co-founded the Christian Social Union, and edited its magazine The Commonwealth from 1895 to 1912. ‘Judge eternal, throned in splendour’ was first published in its pages in 1902, and included in the English Hymnal (1906). Modern hymnbooks alter two lines in the final verse, for obvious reasons. Line 3 was originally, ‘Feed the faint and hungry heathen’, and line 5 was ‘Cleanse the body of this empire’. The tune to which this hymn is always sung is the traditional Welsh melody ‘Rhuddlan’, originally written for the harp. I’ve chosen a spirited performance by The Scottish Festival Singers, recorded in 2014.

My hymn this week is about putting our trust in God: ‘All my hope on God is founded’. The English words are a free translation of ‘Meine Hoffnung stehet feste’ by Joachim Neander, a teacher in a school in Düsseldorf run by the Calvinist German Reformed Church and author of a number of popular hymns in the seventeenth century. ‘All my hope’ echoes the thought expressed in many of the psalms: even the greatest of human achievements are transient when set against the enduring goodness, wisdom, love and creative power of God. In the late nineteenth century, the poet Robert Bridges used Neander’s words as a basis for this hymn in English. Bridges had retired to the village of Yattendon in Berkshire, where he became the choirmaster, and he published a collection of hymns and translations in 1899 as the Yattendon Hymnal. His version of ‘All my hope’ retains something of the feel of the seventeenth-century original, with its slightly archaic language and syntax, but the lines are magnificently strong and rhythmical. The hymn only became widely popular, however, when the composer Herbert Howells (1892–1983) wrote a sprightly new tune for it, which he named ‘Michael’, after his son who had died in childhood. I’ve chosen a fine ‘Songs of Praise’ rendition from St Alban’s Church, Bristol.

All my hope on God is founded;
   He doth still my trust renew.
Me through change and chance he guideth,
   Only good and only true.
          God unknown,
          He alone
   Calls my heart to be his own.

Pride of man and earthly glory,
   Sword and crown betray his trust;
What with care and toil he buildeth,
   Tower and temple, fall to dust.
          But God’s power,
          Hour by hour,
   Is my temple and my tower.

God’s great goodness aye endureth:
   Deep his wisdom, passing thought;
Splendour, light, and life attend him,
   Beauty springeth out of naught.
          Evermore
          From his store
   New-born worlds rise and adore.

Daily doth the almighty giver

   Bounteous gifts on us bestow;
His desire our soul delighteth,
   Pleasure leads us where we go.
          Love doth stand
          At his hand;
   Joy doth wait on his command.

Still from man to God eternal
   Sacrifice of praise be done,
High above all praises praising
   For the gift of Christ his Son.
          Christ doth call
          One and all:
   Ye who follow shall not fall.

                Joachim Neander (1650–80)
         trans. Robert Bridges (1844–1930

My hymn this week is ‘Praise to the Holiest in the height’, by John Henry Newman. The lines formed part of his long poem ‘The Dream of Gerontius’ (1865), appearing in five sets of verses sung by angels as the hero Gerontius is dying and entering purgatory. In 1868, the editors of Hymns Ancient and Modern extracted six stanzas to form the present hymn for congregational singing. Few hymns expound more impressively the overarching providence of God in the salvation brought about by Christ. When the first Adam fell in ‘sin and shame’, God’s ‘wisest love’ ordained that a ‘second Adam’ would come to the rescue and overcome evil (see 1 Corinthians 15). The Incarnation, Newman says, was ‘a higher gift than grace’ because it involved God himself being present on earth. The fifth and sixth verses set out the Passion of Christ, where in his ‘generous love’ he underwent ‘the double agony’ – in the garden of Gethsemane ‘secretly’, and ‘on the Cross on high’. Having been a key leader of the Anglo-Catholic Oxford Movement in the Church of England, Newman, after much agonizing, had entered the Roman Catholic Church in 1845. He became a cardinal in 1879 and was canonized in 2019. The great tune ‘Gerontius’ was written in 1868 specifically for this hymn by John Bacchus Dykes (1823–76). Other tunes are also now used, especially the wonderful ‘Newman’ (also known as ‘Billing’) written in 1912 by Sir Richard Runciman Terry (1865–1938), Director of Music at Westminster Cathedral. I’ve chosen a Songs of Praise version of ‘Gerontius’ from Peterborough Cathedral in 1997 (it leaves out verses three and four), and a grand performance of the whole hymn sung to ‘Newman’ in 2013 by the choirs of The Church of Our Lady and the English Martyrs, Cambridge.

Praise to the Holiest in the height,
   And in the depth be praise,
In all his words most wonderful,
   Most sure in all his ways.

O loving wisdom of our God!
   When all was sin and shame,
A second Adam, to the fight
   And to the rescue came.

O wisest love! that flesh and blood
   Which did in Adam fail,
Should strive afresh against the foe,
   Should strive and should prevail;

And that a higher gift than grace
   Should flesh and blood refine,
God’s presence, and his very self,
   And essence all-divine.

O generous love! that he who smote
   In man for man the foe,
The double agony in man
   For man should undergo.

And in the garden secretly,
   And on the cross on high,
Should teach his brethren, and inspire
   To suffer and to die.

Praise to the Holiest in the height,
   And in the depth be praise,
In all his words most wonderful;
   Most sure in all His ways.
           John Henry Newman (1801–90)

Prompted by the Archbishops’ call for us to pray at 6.00pm each day for all those caught up in the pandemic, my chosen hymn is ‘Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire’. Not perhaps known as well as it should be, this great hymn helps us to understand something of what prayer is and the different forms it can take. Whether spoken or unspoken, prayer can come from somewhere deep inside us – perhaps only expressed in a sigh, or in the falling of a tear, or in an upward glance towards God. It can be in the simple words of a child, or be among the ‘sublimest strains’ of the human spirit. Prayer is the voice of a ‘contrite sinner’; the air in which the Christian breathes; it is what unites the Church. Nor is it only we who pray: the Holy Spirit and Jesus are praying for us in heaven (Romans 8:26, Hebrews 7:25). Finally, the one who is ‘the way, the truth, and the life’ (John 14:6) is the one who alone can ‘teach us how to pray’ (Luke 11:1). The author of this hymn was James Montgomery, a campaigning journalist and newspaper editor who ended up in prison in 1796 for his radical views. Brought up as a Moravian, Montgomery collaborated closely with Thomas Cotterill (1779–1823), perpetual curate of St Paul’s, Sheffield in the publication in 1819 of a pioneering collection of hymns for use in the Church of England. It contained more than fifty of Montgomery’s hymns, including ‘Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire’. Several different tunes are used for this hymn, but the performance I’ve chosen, recorded by the Coventry Cathedral Singers in 2013, is sung to the beautifully plaintive ‘St Agnes’ (1866) by the Revd John Bacchus Dykes (1823–76). In this recording, verses 2, 4, 6, and 7 are omitted (which is a pity).