T. Tertius Noble

Thomas Tertius Noble, born today in 1867, in Bath, England, would eventually come to be known as the dean of American organists later in life. He showed an early interest in music, and once begged to be removed from a boarding school that did not have a music program. At age 12 he was appointed to be the organist of All Saints Parish in Colchester, where the rector had provided him with some musical instruction. Many years later, in an address at the General Theological Seminary in New York, he described the conditions there:

I was almost 13, I could not play the organ very well.  It was an awful, old organ.  It had four stops, and its mechanism rattled so loudly you could hardly hear the music.  For three years I worked there.  I got up at 6:30 summer and winter, and I was in the church practicing by 7:00. (...) Learning on this organ was difficult, but very good for me.

In 1889 he graduated from the Royal College of Music in London, where his teachers had included Charles Villiers Stanford (for composition) and John Frederick Bridge (for harmony). He was then hired there as a teacher himself, and then in 1892 he was appointed organist at Ely Cathedral. Six years later, he started at York Minster, where he remained for the next thirteen years, until he was recruited to be organist-choirmaster at St. Thomas Episcopal Church in New York in 1913.

A fair amount about his time in New York has been covered here already (links below). Since unfortunately I have used up the internet sound files of his hymn tunes (only four available at the moment),  you can hear one of his settings of the Magnificat from YouTube.



Roman Catholic readers may understand why a Magnificat is always appropriate in May, but Anglicans and Episcopalians like them year-round.



Nine Years Ago: T. Tertius Noble

Eight Years Ago: T. Tertius Noble

We Will Remember Them

This anthem's text by Robert Laurence Binyon was written in 1914, following the earliest casualties in World War I.  It's part of a longer text, but this particular verse, the first written by Binyon, was set to music by English composer and choirmaster Douglas Guest in 1971. for the choir of Westminster Abbey in London.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

Echoes of Mercy, Whispers of Love

Nearly two weeks ago, on December 29, I was in the middle of the Twelve Days of Christmas posts and so didn't get around to posting this, but if you haven't seen it it's definitely worth watching.  On that night, the 2015 Kennedy Center Honors ceremony was broadcast (the event itself was on December 6).  Five worthy honorees in different artistic categories were celebrated for their contributions to the arts in the United States.

The day after, most of the buzz was about Aretha Franklin's performance in honor of songwriter Carole King, but for our purposes, CeCe Winans'  rendition of Blessed assurance for Cicely Tyson was the one to savor. Presenter Kerry Washington explains the reason for this particular tribute, in which Winans is joined by students from the Cicely Tyson School of Performing and Fine Arts in East Orange, New Jersey.



I think Fanny Crosby and Phoebe Knapp would be quite honored as well to know that their song is still known and loved more than a century later, and has spread its message to more people around the world than they could have imagined.

Horatio W. Parker

Composer Horatio William Parker, born today in Auburndale, Massachusetts in 1863, is pictured here in his Yale academic robes (he was the first Dean of the Yale School of Music from 1904 to 1919).

In The History of American Music (1915), author Lewis Charles Elson recounts some recollections of Horatio's mother, Isabella, who was a church organist. According to her, the child Horatio showed no interest in music. His interest developed rather suddenly when he was fourteen (she pinpointed it to October, 1877), when he began "to ask all sorts of questions about it, and to spend literally whole days at the piano, beginning at daylight, and stopping only when his father sent him to bed." She began to teach him piano and organ, and within two years he was the organist at St. Paul's Church in Dedham, Massachusetts.

He also started to compose during these years; among his first works was a set of fifty songs with texts by childrens' writer and illustrator Kate Greenaway, described as having "good melody and sufficient accoampaniment."

Of course, as recounted here on his previous birthdays, he went on to become one of the most prominent composers of his day, particularly renowned for his contributions to church music with his oratorios, anthems, service music, and hymn tunes. Since we've already some of his tunes, today I'm directing you to one of his anthems. Perhaps his most lasting one is the Easter anthem Light's glittering morn, sung here at St. Peter's Catholic Church in Columbia, SC during a regional convocation of the American Guild of Organists (text is below). Listen for when the familiar hymn tune VICTORY comes in from the choir, over the soloist - it's my favorite moment in this favorite piece.

Light's glittering morn bedecks the sky;
heaven thunders forth its victor cry;
the glad earth shouts her triumph high,
and groaning hell makes wild reply.

While he, the King, the mighty King,
despoiling death of all its sting,
and, trampling down the powers of night,
brings forth his ransomed saints to light.

[solo]
That Eastertide with joy was bright,
the sun shone out with fairer light,
when, to their longing eyes restored,
the glad apostles saw their Lord.

He bade them see his hands, his side,
where yet the glorious wounds abide;
the tokens true which made it plain
their Lord indeed was risen again.

[quartet]
O Jesus, King of gentleness,
do thou thyself our hearts possess
that we may give thee all our days
the tribute of our grateful praise.

[solo]

O Lord of all, with us abide,

in this our joyful Eastertide;

from every weapon death can wield

Thine own redeemed forever shield.

[Congregation joins:]

The strife is o'er, the battle done,
The victory of life is won,
The song of triumph has begun.

Alleluia, alleluia! (et repetitur)

All praise be thine, O risen Lord,
from death to endless life restored.
All praise to God the Father be,
and Holy Ghost, eternally.
Alleluia, Amen!

Text: Aurora lucis rutilat, formerly attributed to Ambrose of Milan;

tr John Mason Neale, 1851

Two Years Ago: Horatio W. Parker

One Year Ago: Horatio W. Parker

Jeremiah Clarke

English composer Jeremiah Clarke died on this day in 1707. Like many people of his day, his exact birthdate (perhaps around 1674) was not recorded, nor much about his early life.

By 1785, the year of the coronation of James II, he was a boy chorister at the Chapel Royal. As an adult he sang at St. Paul's Cathedral in London and studied with John Blow. In later years, he was the organist at the Chapel Royal and Master of the Choristers at St. Paul's. He composed mostly choral music and some hymn tunes, but also pieces for keyboard and instruments, and at least one opera with Daniel Purcell (brother of Henry).

Despondent at the refusal of his marriage proposal by a “titled lady,” he killed himself on that December day. 302 years ago. Accounts differ as to whether he is buried in the crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral (unlikely for a suicide) or in unconsecrated ground outside the cathedral graveyard.

Clearly not planning ahead, I have already used Clarke's most familiar tunes here:

ST. MAGNUS (Lo, what a cloud of witnesses)

BISHOPTHORPE (Immortal love, forever full)

BROMLEY (O thou, whose gracious presence shone)

Clark's most familiar composition is undoubtedly his Trumpet Voluntary or the Prince of Denmark's March, which you will probably recognize as soon as you click on the video below. It is frequently used at weddings, which seems ironic given the circumstances of Clarke's suicide.

Harry Thacker Burleigh

Earlier this summer, the General Conference of the Episcopal Church added several persons to be commemorated on the church calendar, including some additional musicians and hymnwriters, which puts them on our calendar here.

Composer Henry "Harry" Thacker Burleigh is marked today, one day before the anniversary of his death (though some sources erroneously show his death as December 12). Burleigh was born and raised in Erie, Pennsylvania, where he sang in a quartet with his brother and two sisters as a young teen, then in high school he joined the newly established Choir of Men and Boys at the Episcopal Cathedral of St. Paul in Erie. Over the next few years, Burleigh performed as a baritone soloist in several area churches and synagogues, as well as for community organizations.

In 1892 he moved to New York City, having won a scholarship to the National Conservatory of Music, and his first chance to receive formal musical training. He became friendly with the school's director, the composer Antonin Dvorak, and became Dvorak's assistant in 1893, copying out the instrumental parts from the manuscript of the New World Symphony. Some sources credit Burleigh's friendship with Dvorak with the elder composer's use of themes in that symphony which evoke African-American spirituals, though Dvorak apparently never confirmed that assumption.

In 1894, Harry Burleigh became the baritone soloist at St. George's Episcopal Church in New York over the objections of many in the congregation who were not comfortable with an African-American song leader. However, he was to remain in that post for the next fifty-two years, reportedly missing only one Sunday. In 1900 he also became the first black soloist at the NYC synagogue Temple Emanu-El. During these years he also began to compose, but his compositions took second place to his concert career for the next several years.

In 1911 he began working as an editor in the New York office of G. Ricordi and Company, an Italian music publisher. He took more of an interest in composing after this, and also in exploring the tradition of the spiritual. He compiled, arranged, and published Jubilee Songs of the United States (1916) and Old Songs Hymnal (1929) which collected more than a hundred spirituals that had not been published before. His arrangements of spirituals, both for soloists and for chorus are still sung today, such as this one.



Burleigh also composed instrumental music, and was renowned for his art songs. He was a charter member of the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP) and later served on its board of directors.

In the Episcopal Hymnal 1940, his hymn tune McKEE was first published with the John Oxenham text In Christ there is no east or west. McKEE was based on the spiritual I know the angel's done changed my name, and named for the Reverend Elmore McKee, the then-current rector of St. George's. You may have sung it; it was published in several hymnals after that.

Harry Burleigh retired as St. George's baritone soloist in 1946 at the age of eighty, two years before his death. A posthumous tribute in the church's newsletter declared He seemed aware of deeper tones of brotherhood and throbbing harmonies of humanity which others did not hear.

Amy Beach

Composer Amy Marcy Cheney Beach was born today in 1867 in New Hampshire. Her musical talent was apparent from an early age; reportedly she sang improvised harmony to her mother's melody line at the age of two, began composing (in some fashion or other) at four, and played her first piano recital at seven.

She composed in many different forms, symphony, opera, chamber music, choral music and songs, and of course a few hymn tunes. Many of her works have been recorded, though there are many more still to be heard by modern audiences.

Last year there were no performances of her choral work available for you to hear on YouTube, but one has finally turned up, her anthem Let this mind be in you (the text taken from Philippians 2:5-11, if you want to follow along). Thanks to the Gallery Choir of St. Peter's Catholic Church, Columbia, SC.




In 1921, Beach first went to stay for a period at the MacDowell Colony in her native New Hampshire, and she returned for many summer stays after that, eventually serving on the board of directors. Even during her final years, when her health rarely allowed her to leave New York, she made an effort to attend the official annual meetings. After her death in 1944, her will granted the ongoing proceeds from royalties on her copyrighted works to the colony.


One Year Ago: Amy Beach

Franz Joseph Haydn

I am celebrating the birthday of Franz Joseph Haydn (March 31, 1732 - May 31, 1809) in a slightly unique way -- tonight I will be at a rehearsal of his oratorio The Creation, which the choral group I sing with is performing at the end of April.

Last year I wrote about Haydn, including one of the hymn tunes arranged from this oratorio. Here is the chorus The heavens are telling, from The Creation, from where the hymn tune CREATION is taken.



The performance is from June 2002, by the Symphony Orchestra of Sri Lanka & Chorus with members of the Amsterdam Chamber Orchestra & Bombay Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Lalanath de Silva.

Saint Thomas Aquinas

Thomas Aquinas, commemorated on this day, was born in 1224 or 1225, and at the age of five was sent by his parents to live in a Benedictine monastery, where they hoped he would follow in the footsteps of his uncle, the monastery's abbot. This didn't work out for his family, as he eventually became a Dominican friar instead. They had him abducted and imprisoned for two years, trying to convince him to renounce the Dominican order, but without success.

In adulthood, Aquinas became a prominent theologian and philosopher, his reputation continuing into the present day. Fifty years after his death on March 7, 1274, he was proclaimed a saint by Pope John XXII. Subsequent popes have declared that the theology of Aquinas is considered definitive for the Roman Catholic Church.

In addition to his many theological works, he wrote many Latin hymns that have been translated by different poets over the years. Some of the most well known have become part of the Catholic liturgy, such as this one, the Latin O salutaris Hostia.

O saving Victim, open wide
The gate of heaven to us below;
Our foes press on from every side;
Thine aid supply; thy strength bestow.

All praise and thanks to thee ascend
Forevermore, blest One in Three;
O grant us life that shall not end
In our true native land with thee.

Thomas Aquinas, 13th c.;
tr. Edward Caswall,1849, and others
Tune: HEREFORD (L.M.)
Samuel Sebastian Wesley, 1872

This short hymn is the final section of a longer text, Verbum supernum prodiens, and is sung during the rite of Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, celebrated in the Roman Catholic church, the Western Rite Orthodox Church, and in some Anglo-Catholic Episcopal/Anglican churches.

Another Aquinas hymn, the Tantum ergo, is also sung during Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. At my own church, Benediction is celebrated a few times a year during Evensong services. The congregation sings O salutaris Hostia (as the hymn above), followed by a choral setting of the Tantum ergo. I sometimes wonder about reversing them; having a choral setting of the O Salutaris (of which there are many) and a metrical hymn version of the Tantum ergo, but we never do it that way. There may well be some arcane liturgical rule about why not.

At YouTube you can hear one of the Tantum ergo settings we have sung, by Gabriel Faure, performed by a choir of men and boys (we do a standard four-part arrangement, with tenor solo instead of boy soprano).

Like the Sound of a Great Amen

Today is more about a cousin to a hymn, by a writer and composer who did write hymns.

I recently got a CD by a choral group who shall remain nameless, which had an arrangement of The Lost Chord. I was curious to hear it, as this piece is really a solo song by composer Arthur Sullivan and poet Adelaide Anne Procter. Sullivan had planned to set the poem to music for a long time, but without success, and was finally able to do it when his brother Fred was dying.

The song was number one on the Victorian hit parade for quite some time, with astronomical sales of the sheet music. At a press conference in 1888 that introduced Edison's phonograph machine to London, a recording of the tune on piano and trumpet was played. You can see a series of postcards (including the one above) with the lyrics at this page.

The song was still quite popular early in the twentieth century, and was recorded by such luminaries as Enrico Caruso and Dame Clara Butt in the early days of sound recording.

As I said, it isn't a hymn, and I don't even think it's particularly religious. Let's call it Victorian metaphysics.

Seated one day at the organ,
I was weary and ill-at-ease;
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.

I know not what I was playing
Or what I was dreaming then,
But I struck one chord of music
Like the sound of a great Amen.

It flooded the crimson twilight
Like the close of an angel's psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.

It quieted pain and sorrow
Like love overcoming strife;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.

It linked all perplexèd meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence
As if it were loth to cease.

I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the organ
And entered into mine.

It may be that death's bright angel
Will speak in that chord again;
It may be that only in heav'n
I shall hear that grand Amen.

There are different versions you can hear at YouTube, including the ones mentioned above, but here's a boy soprano who would have gone over well in Sullivan's time.

Oh, and that CD -- the choral arrangement wasn't very good; the organ accompaniment was more interesting, which I guess is appropriate for this song.

Amy Beach

Today we celebrate the birthday of composer Amy Marcy Cheney Beach, born on this day in 1867. She grew up in New England, then settled in Boston. She was the first significant woman composer in this country, but began her career as a concert pianist in 1883. Only two years later she married Dr. H.H.A. Beach (24 years older than she), and agreed to limit her public performances to one per year, for charity. She turned to composition (a more ladylike pastime, in the doctor's opinion) and became very successful before long, publishing her works under the name of Mrs. H.H.A. Beach.

Her larger works include a symphony, the chamber opera Cabildo, the Mass in E Flat, and several extended choral works. She also wrote many art songs and chamber music pieces, as well as a number of anthems (six of them are available at the Sibley Music Library site). For many years she lived in New England in the summer, and New York City in the winter, where she became an unofficial composer-in-residence at St. Bartholomew's Episcopal Church on Park Avenue.

A comprehensive biography, Amy Beach, Passionate Victorian by Adrienne Fried Block was published in 1998. Having sung some of her music, I was interested to read it, and discovered that she wrote one hymn tune, called NORWOOD, which was published in one hymnal, Worship in Song (1943 or 1941 - references differ). The tune was used for the hymn O God of love, O King of peace by Henry Williams Baker. But I also discovered a footnote that referred to two "sketches" she sold to the editor of that hymnal some years earlier. A little detective work uncovered The Hymnal for Boys and Girls, published in 1935, which contains two more childen's hymns with tunes attributed to Beach: PETERBOROUGH and ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S (naturally). This was somewhat exciting, because the biographer had apparently not uncovered these tunes (they were not listed with Beach's other work) I suppose "sketches" is a bit vague, but I'd guess that she at least supplied the tunes, if not the full arrangements. I also had several pieces of service music by Beach published in an Episcopal collection from the early 1940s which were not listed in the biography either. By now I'd guess that they've aleady been uncovered by the biographer for a maybe-someday revised edition.

Unfortunately, all three hymn tunes are still under copyright and not available for us to hear. Worship and Song, in fact, is quite difficult to locate. I couldn't turn up any performances of her choral music online either (though some is available on CD). Someone should definitely put up their rendition of Peace I leave with you (a short but effective anthem). But here's a piano piece, Scottish Legend, from YouTube, which also includes some opening remarks about Beach.



Also, you can watch operatic tenor Jussi Bjoerling perform one of Beach's art songs, Ah, Love, but a day. I think this is from one of the Voice of Firestone programs from the 1950s. It seems a little over-the-top by modern standards, but it may actually be closer to the performance practice of Amy Beach's time.

One Hundred!

This is my one hundredth post on the blog!

Considering that this is the third try at doing this (no one reading this now ever saw the first two versions), it's a bit of an accomplishment. I didn't know if I could find enough to write about, but here we are almost eight months later. The real test will be the second year. But I haven't actually marked all the hymnic birthdays and anniversaries that there are in the calendar, and many of the people I have written about have more hymns and stories to be showcased.

So today I'm doing something completely different, though if you watch much television you've probably guessed what it will be. I've had this post in reserve for a long time, but kept hesitating about putting it up. But it's definitely hymn-related.

There was this video that used to be on YouTube but I suspect it was taken down because of protests, so you have to go here to watch it. Go on. I'll wait.


...humming...





........humming some more...




And, you're back.

Now, as you undoubtedly know, this is a parody of the hymn Joyful, joyful, we adore thee by Henry Van Dyke, with a tune adapted by Edward Hodges from a melody in Beethoven's Ninth Synphony (1824). Many people object to it because it "makes fun" of the hymn (I bet this is why it got pulled from YouTube). You can read some of their objections back on the web page with the video (warning -- not always nice language).

I don't think Beethoven is particularly worried about his reputation; he's had other tunes used in commercials. Van Dyke has a bit more reason to object, because the jingle is clearly based on his text. I'm not really offended by that, though some might be. The people who produced the commercial apparently thought that the commercial would be effective because most people would know the hymn.

My main objection is the clumsiness of the parody text.

Manwich, Manwich, we adore thee,
Fun and easy and sloppy too.
Napkins now unfold before thee,
Manwich, joy does spring from you.

The first three lines are fine, but it all falls apart in the last line. If you're using "thee," then the verb has to be "doth," not "does." But wait! It gets worse -- you can't use both "thee" and "you" in the same text! Would it have been so hard to come up with another rhyme for "too"? Bad. Bad. Bad.

I think I still heard this about a month ago, though I think there's another Manwich spot out that may have finally replaced this one (which has been playing for quite a while).

Well, I hope no one is too offended. Unless you're the type who can never sing the Beethoven/Van Dyke hymn again without thinking about Manwiches for Sunday dinner -- that would be a problem.

P.S. Another anniversary-related fact: I put the counter in about a month ago (over on the right). We get about nine people a day visiting the blog (and I know who most of them are, even though they never say anything), which is ok; it's actually going up a bit more recently.

Also, I promise we'll be back to real hymns tomorrow!

My Strength and Shield

Depending on where you are right now, you may want to sing along.



Guide me, O thou great Redeemer,
Pilgrim through this barren land.
I am weak, but thou art mighty;
Hold me with thy powerful hand.
Bread of heaven, bread of heaven,
Feed me till I want no more.

Open now the crystal fountain,
Whence the healing stream doth flow;
Let the fire and cloudy pillar
Lead me all my journey through.
Strong Deliverer, strong Deliverer,
Be thou still my Strength and Shield.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Death of deaths, and hell’s destruction,
Land me safe on Canaan’s side.
Songs of praises, songs of praises
I will ever give to thee.
William Williams, 1745; tr. Peter Williams 1771
Tune: CWM RHONDDA (8.7.8.7.D.)
John Hughes, 1907

Now that's a hymn that really should be more than three verses long. Actually, there are two more, but I don't think anyone uses them. The three we know fit together quite well, recounting a journey both earthly and spiritual, while the other two verses are more general in nature.

Slow week at the blog - not many birthdays or other commemorations in the first part of July. This works out well because I will be traveling next week, though I do hope to post a little bit (one very significant birthday next week at least). Things should pick up later in the month.

Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury

The Italian-born Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, died on this day in 1109, which is commemorated in both the Roman Catholic and Episcopal calendars of saints. He was considered one of the first scholarly philosophers of Christian theology, but he also wrote the Mariale, a series of poems about the Blessed Mother.

This video presents some of those poems juxtaposed with the stained glass windows from St. Mary's Cathedral in Sydney and choral accompaniment (which I can't identify).




Like most saints, he has a Victorian-era hymn tune named for him, presented here with a commemorative text useful for many saints' days.

Creator, by whose people
Our house was built of old,
Whose hand hath crowned thy children
With blessing manifold,
For thine unfailing mercies
Far-strewn along our way,
With all who passed before us,
We praise thy Name today.

The changeful years unresting
Their silent course have sped,
New comrades ever bringing
In comrades' steps to tread;
And some are long forgotten,
Long spent their hopes and fears;
Safe rest they in thy keeping,
Who changest not with years.

They reap not where they labored;
We reap what they have sown;
Our harvest may be garnered
By ages yet unknown.
The days of old have dowered us
With gifts beyond all praise;
Creator, make us faithful
To serve the coming days.

Before us and beside us,
Still held in thine own hand
A cloud unseen of witness,
Our elder comrades stand:
One family unbroken,
We join, with one acclaim,
One heart, one voice uplifting
To glorify thy Name.

George Wallace Briggs, 1920; alt.
Tune: ST. ANSELM (7.6.7.6.D.)
Joseph Barnby, 1869