God Is Gone Up!

Happy Ascension Day!

God is gone up with a triumphant shout!
The Lord with sounding Trumpets’ melodies:
Sing Praise, sing Praise, sing Praise, sing Praises out,
Unto our King sing praise seraphicwise!
Lift up your Heads, ye lasting Doors, they sing,
And let the King of Glory enter in.

Methinks I see Heaven’s sparkling courtiers fly,
In flakes of Glory down him to attend,
And hear Heart-cramping notes of Melody
Surround his Chariot as it did ascend;
Mixing their Music, making ev’ry string
More to enravish as they this tune sing.

Text: Edward Taylor (1646–1729)
Music: Gerald Finzi (1901–56)

The Full, Final Sacrifice

One of my favourite 20th Century English anthems is Gerald Finzi’s Lo, the Full, Final Sacrifice (Here’s a Spotify link, and here’s a YouTube link, both performed by the outstanding choir of St. John’s College, Cambridge). I have sung it a few times and listened to it many times more. But, in a way that is very typical of many choral singers, I have only paid partial attention to the words.

Well, for slightly complicated reasons, I decided to delve into the words recently. And I found out that Finzi took as his text selected (and re-arranged) extracts from a long paraphrase of Thomas Aquinas’ “Lauda Sion Salvatorem”, as well as from a paraphrase of Aquinas’ “Adoro Te” by the 17th century English metaphysical poet Richard Crashaw (c. 1613–1649).

What a find!

Crashaw was son of a noted puritan theologian, but ended up converting to Catholicism. We can only assume that “Lauda Sion” comes from the latter period.

I offer a longer extract from Crashaw, which I’m hoping might be included in a forthcoming collection of hymns, set to a completely new tune. More on that project another time.

XI.
So the life-food of angells then
Bow’d to the lowly mouths of men!
The children’s Bread, the Bridegroom’s Wine;
Not to be cast to dogges, or swine.

XII.
Lo, the full, finall Sacrifice
On which all figures fix’t their eyes:
The ransom’d Isack, and his ramme;
The manna, and the paschal lamb.

XIII.
Iesv Master, iust and true!
Our food, and faithfull Shephard too!
O by Thy self vouchsafe to keep,
As with Thy selfe Thou feed’st Thy sheep.

XIV.
O let that loue which thus makes Thee
Mix with our low mortality,
Lift our lean soules, and sett vs vp
Con-victors of Thine Own full cup,
Coheirs of saints. That so all may
Drink the same wine; and the same way:
Nor change the pastvre, but the place,
To feed of Thee, in Thine Own face. Amen.