Showing posts with label Frederick C. Maker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frederick C. Maker. Show all posts

Saturday, December 17, 2016

John Greenleaf Whittier

The Quaker poet and abolitionist John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) was born today in Massachusetts, where he spent most of his life. Both his birthplace in Haverhill and the home where he lived for nearly sixty years in nearby Amesbury are preserved as historical sites (an honor not bestowed on most hymnwriters). Of course, few of his poems were intended as hymns, but hymnal editors from his own time to the present have captured stanzas from his poetry, assembling them into texts for congregational singing.

As recounted here before, his literary career was encouraged by William Lloyd Garrison, who published many of his early poems and the two men bonded over their commitment to the abolitionist cause. In 1833 Whittier was a delegate to the first convention of the American Anti-Slavery Society, where he signed its declaration (written by Garrison), an act that he was to recall as one of the most significant events of his life. He later served as the Society's secretary, and over the next few years he traveled throughout the northern states lecturing against slavery. Confrontations with proponents of slavery were many, and some were violent.  In 1838 he moved to Philadelphia to edit the Pennsylvania Freeman, a prominent abolitionist newspaper. The paper moved its offices to Pennsylvania Hall, a newly built meeting place for abolitionist organizations, but the building was burned in a riot only three days after its grand opening.

By 1839 the abolitionist cause was beginning to fracture over various disagreements. Whittier broke with Garrison, who insisted that the country would only change by a great tide of moral persuasion. Whittier believed that the cause had to be politically viable for any change to happen, and he joined the Liberty Party in 1840. He continued to write poetry for the anti-slavery cause, both before and after emancipation finally occurred, though most of his later verse (from which the hymns are primarily taken) was written on other themes.

Whittier's Quakerism was more than a religious feeling; he dressed in traditional Quaker garb and conversed in the 'simple speech' of the Quakers (though it may sound quite 'formal' to us today). It's probably natural that he would have disliked the boisterous revival services and camp meetings held by the evangelical preachers of his day, and his most well-known hymn appears to be a reaction against such worship. Today's hymn, like his others, is taken from a longer poem, The Brewing of Soma (first published in the Atlantic Monthly in April 1872), which begins with a description of the rites of early Hindu worship, where the priests concoct a formula which produces 'sacred madness' and 'a storm of drunken joy.'  He goes on to link this practice to various other sects and cultures through history before bringing it home to his readers:

And yet the past comes round again,
And new doth old fulfil;
In sensual transports wild as vain
We brew in many a Christian fane
The heathern Soma still!

The final six stanzas of the poem are still often sung today, giving us a model for worship that Whittier preferred, incorporating the Quaker values of silence, reverence, and peace.

Dear God, the Source of humankind,
Forgive our foolish ways;
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.

In simple trust like theirs who heard,
Beside the Syrian sea,
The gracious calling of the Lord,
Let us, like them, without a word
Rise up and follow thee.

O Sabbath rest by Galilee,
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with thee
The silence of eternity,
Interpreted by love!

With that deep hush subduing all
Our words and works that drown
The tender whisper of thy call,
As noiseless let thy blessing fall
As fell thy manna down.

Drop thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.

John Greenleaf Whittier, 1872; alt.
Tune: REST (Maker) (8.6.8.8.6.)
Frederick C. Maker, 1887

It should probably be remarked that some of the denominations that Whittier was chastising would eventually include this hymn in their own worship without any compunction.  The preceding stanzas are all but unknown today. Some contemporary commentary also believes this hymn to be relevant in our time because of some connection to 'drug culture,' but again, almost anyone singing this hymn today knows nothing about its origins.

The original first line of the hymn, Dear Lord and Father of mankind, has been altered in a few different ways in recent years. The two most popular seem to be Dear God, embracing humankind, and Dear Lord, who loves all humankind, but the line above predates those, taken from the hymnal project I worked on from 1989-1992.

Composer Frederick C. Maker wrote this tune specifically for this text when it appeared in the Congregational Church Hymnal (1887). Though that book was published in London for use in the UK, REST is now considered to be the American tune, and English hymnals prefer REPTON by C.H.H. Parry (though the final two lines in each stanza have to be repeated unnecessarily).




Eight Years Ago: John Greenleaf Whittier

Six Years Ago: John Greenleaf Whittier

One Year Ago: John Greenleaf Whittier

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Frances Ridley Havergal

Today is the 180th birthday of hymnwriter and composer Frances Ridley Havergal (1836-1879).  She was the daughter of William Henry Havergal, a menber of the clergy of the Church of England, who also wrote and composed hymns. Her middle name was given in honor of Bishop Nicholas Ridley (c.1500-1555), an English Protestant martyr who was executed for heresy after the Roman Catholic Mary Tudor became queen (Ridley had supported the brief accession of Lady Jane Grey).

Young Frances was quite a prodigy; her father nicknamed her 'Little Quicksilver.' She began to read at age three, and to memorize the Bible at age four. She learned at least seven languages, including Greek and Hebrew so that she could further her Biblical studies.  At seven, she began to write poetry. She also memorized much piano music of the great composers of her day, sang, and composed music of her own.

As an adult, she was very involved with mission work and other social causes, including temperance and the YWCA.  She founded the Flannel Petticoat Society, which provided clothing to poor children.

Many of her early hymns were first published in pamphlet form, and the first collection of her writings was not published until 1869, only ten years before her death at 46. Over the next few years she became well known for her hymn texts and other religious poetry and prose. One of her famous correspondents was the American Fanny Crosby, and the two sometimes exchanged poems. The Seeing Heart (1872) is a long poem to Crosby by Havergal, from which the phrase "Her heart can see" was taken for the title of a modern biography of Crosby. The poem ends with the following stanza:

Singing for Jesus! Telling his love
All the way to our home above,
Where the severing sea, with its restless tide
Never shall hinder and never divide.
Sister, what shall our meeting soon be
When our hearts shall sing and our eyes shall see?


Most of Havergal's hymn texts and poetry express her deep relationship with Jesus, rarely dealing with the wider variety of themes that many Victorian hymnwriters explored.  Though I have only marked her birthday twice, several more of her texts have appeared here (click her tag below) and a few of her tunes as well. This text was published in Loyal Responses (1878) though it may have been released earlier in a pamphlet.

Christ is with us! He has said it,
In his truth and tender grace;
Sealed the promise, softly spoken,
With how many a mighty token,
Of his love and faithfulness.

Christ is with us! in our living,
Shielding us from fear of ill;
All our burdens kindly bearing,
For our loved ones gently caring,
Guarding, keeping, blessing still.

Christ is with us! with us always,
All the nights and all the days;
Never failing, never frowning,
With his loving-kindness crowning,
Tuning all our lives to praise.

Christ is with us! Our own Savior,
Leading, loving to the end;
Bright'ning joy and light'ning sorrow,
All today, yet more tomorrow,
Lamb of God, our Guide and Friend.

Frances Ridley Havergal, 1878; alt.
Tune: WINDERMERE (Maker) (8.7.8.8.7.)
Frederick C. Maker, 19th cent.

The meter of this text is a bit unusual and there are not many tunes that fit it - WINDERMERE, by Frederick Maker (composer of ST. CHRISTOPHER) is a compromise.  The score may help you match the text with the words.

Havergal died of peritonitis on June 3, 1879. She had been staying for several months with her sister Maria, who wrote an account of the poet's decline which was published as The Last Week (1879). Family members were with her in her last days, and they sang together several times. Just before she died she sang her own tune, HERMAS, one last time, to the following words by Mary J. Walker:

Jesus, I will trust thee, 
Trust thee with my soul;
Guilty, lost, and helpless,
Thou canst make me whole.
There is none in heaven
Or on earth like thee:
Thou hast died for sinners—
Therefore, Lord for me.



Eight Years Ago: Frances Ridley Havergal

Seven Years Ago: Frances Ridley Havergal

Sunday, February 26, 2012

No Penance Do We Owe

It has only taken four years to get to this point - posting the first complete hymn text I wrote (out of only two) more than twenty years ago.

The hymn was based on some sermons I had heard about a somewhat non-traditional interpretation of Lent, where the season is not about "giving up" things (a concept invented much later by theologians). Repentance, in this context, was about turning away from behaviors and other things that separate us from grace, rather than about a particular rite or litany that we must perform. This turning away then turns us toward the path of Jesus, rededicating us to following his example and learning from his life.


Your forty days of trial,
We mark, O Christ, with care;
As once you braved the wildrness,
New challenges we dare.
This season of repentance will
Inspire us as we pray;
We turn from all that mars our lives
Toward all that points your way.

No burdened obligation,
No penance do we owe,
Your gracious liberality
Is what we strive to show;
That everyone who enters here
May know the hope we feel,
Of all the world together joined,
Communion yet more real.

Our passion for God's justice
Leads on through storm and strife,
As once your passion guided you
To sacrifice your life.
No longer must we suffer thus,
You freed us from that weight;
To build your loving commonwealth
Our lives we dedicate.

Help us to know your freedom,
To understand your grace,
To feel your gentle, guiding hand
That leads us from this place;
That as we live our daily lives
As witnesses for you,
We weave the gifts we've gathered here
Through everything we do.

Text: C.W.S., 1990
Tune: ST. CHRISTOPHER (7.6.8.6.8.6.8.6.)
Frederick C. Maker, 1881
Text Copyright © 1990

This may not be your theology, but it is proclaimed in many churches and there are not many hymns for this particular kind of Lenten season.


P.S. The drawing above is Jesus is Tempted by Satan in the Wilderness, a nineteenth-century engraving by Francis Holl..

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Adelaide Anne Procter

Today is the birthday of Adelaide Anne Procter (born in 1825), who wrote the text of one of the most popular songs of the nineteenth century, The Lost Chord, though she did not live to see her words joined to Arthur Sullivan's music.

In the book Lady Hymn Writers (1892) by Emma Raymond Pitman, we learn a few details of Procter's childhood. Even before she learned to write she was captivated by poetry, and

"...she made for herself a tiny album of note-paper, into which her favorite poems were copied for her, at her urgent request, by her mother. (...) This little album was cherished and carried around by the child, much as dolls are by other little girls."

Years later, her own poetry was published, first by Charles Dickens in his magazine Household Words, and later collected in Legends and Lyrics (1858-60). A smaller volume of primarily devotional poems followed, A Chaplet of Verses (1862). Some of her texts were later set to music and appeared in hymnals, such as this one.

My God, I thank thee, who hast made
The earth so bright,
So full of splendor and of joy,
Beauty and light;
So many glorious things are here,
Noble and right.

I thank thee, too, that thou hast made
Joy to abound;
So many gentle thoughts and deeds
Circling us round,
That in the farthest spot of earth
Some love is found.

I thank thee, God, that thou hast kept
The best in store;
We have enough, yet not too much
To long for more:
A yearning for a deeper peace
Not known before.

Adelaide Anne Procter, 1858
Tune:
WENTWORTH (8.4.8.4.8.4.)
Frederick C. Maker, 1876

Procter died in 1864, reportedly worn down by the charitable work which to her was much more significant than her poetry. Dickens wrote of her:

"Perfectly unselfish, swift to sympathize and eager to relieve, she wrought at such designs with a flushed earnestness that disregarded season, weather, time of day or night, food, rest. Under such a hurry of the spirits, and such incessant occupation, the strongest constitution will commonly go down. (...) And so the time came when she could move about no longer and took to her bed."

The popularity of her poetry continued to increase after her death for many years to come, and undoubtedly there were many other little girls who loved her works before they had learned to write. I hope some of them had mothers who wrote down their favorites for them to carry about.


One Year Ago: Adelaide Anne Procter

Two Years Ago: Christopher Wordsworth


Sunday, April 12, 2009

Rising Up From Grief and Tears

Easter Sunday, the Feast of the Resurrection, has finally come. If you've been to church, it was probably a great day for music, both the familiar hymns and maybe something new. I've been in a lot of different churches on a lot of different Easters, and every one has sung Jesus Christ is risen today as the opening hymn. I suppose some churches somewhere must do something else.

John Samuel Bewley Monsell was born in Ireland but became a priest in the Church of England. For some reason, this hymn never really made it into Anglican or Episcopal hymnals, though it was in some Church of Ireland collections. Later, the Lutherans took it up for some equally unknown reason.

This hymn is a pretty rousing one to close the Easter service, but I don't get to do it any more.


Christ is risen! Alleluia!
Risen our victorious Head!
Sing our praises! Alleluia!
Christ is risen from the dead!
Gratefully our hearts adore you,
As your light once more appears,
Bowing down in joy before you,
Rising up from grief and tears,

Refrain
Christ is risen! Alleluia!
Risen our victorious Head!
Sing our praises! Alleluia!
Christ is risen from the dead!

Christ is risen! all the sadness
Of our Lenten fast is o’er,
Through the open gates of gladness
You return to life once more;
Death and hell before you bending,
See, you rise, the Victor now,
Angels on your steps attending,
Glory round your wounded brow.
Refrain

Christ is risen! all the sorrow
That last evening round you lay,
Now has found a glorious morrow
In the rising of today;
See the grave, its first-fruits giving,
Springing up from holy ground,
You were dead, but now are living,
You were lost, but now are found.
Refrain

Christ is risen! henceforth never
Death or hell shall us enthrall;
Be we Christ’s, in whom forever
We have triumphed over all;
All the doubting and dejection
Of our trembling hearts have ceased,
Hail the day of resurrection!
Let us rise and keep the feast.
Refrain

John Samuel Bewley Monsell, 1863; alt.
Tune: MORGENLIED (8.7.8.7.D with refrain)
Frederick C. Maker, 1876



I'm off to take a nap.