Smiling at Vespers

My favorite evening hymn is "The Day You Gave Us, Lord, Has Ended" (LBW #274) partly because the fourth stanza always makes me smile:

The sun, here having set, is waking
Your children under western skies,...

You see, I grew up in Southern California, 15 miles from the Pacific Ocean. From childhood, when the Sun was setting for us, I've imagined it rising over Japan. But Japan ("The Land of the Rising Sun") is in the east, so (at least in my mind) the setting sun is waking children under eastern skies.

One evening I finally realized that the hymnwriter John Ellerton was from England, not California. And as a little boy he likely never thought he should be able to see the Sun setting behind Japan.

And hour by hour, as day is breaking,
Fresh hymns of thankful praise arise.

From a post of mine of a couple of years ago at ALPB Forum Online.

Sing, My Tongue, the Glorious Battle

A Good Friday hymn that continues to grow on me is the ancient Latin hymn Pange lingua, parts of which appear as two different hymns in the Lutheran Book of Worship: Praise the Savior, Now and Ever, an English translation of the Swedish translation (Upp, min tunga, which I learned in the Vadstena Abbey Church through the Society of St. Birgitta) of the Latin, and Sing, My Tongue, in a translation credited in the LBW to "John Mason Neale, alt." Our friend "alt." has apparently worked considerably on Father Neale's original translation, beginning with Fr. Percy Dearmer over 100 years ago.

The original Latin hymn is by the 6th-century Latin poet (and Bishop of Portiers) Venantius Fortunatus. Here's an English translation of the full hymn (we sing five stanzas in LBW, immediately after the Cross is brought in procession to the front of the Church), by Dearmer and Neale:

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle,
Sing the ending of the fray;
Now above the cross, the trophy,
Sound the loud triumphant lay:
Tell how Christ the world’s Redeemer,
As a victim won the day.

He, our maker, deeply grieving
That the first made Adam fell,
When he ate the fruit forbidden
Whose reward was death and hell,
Marked e’en then this tree the ruin
Of the first tree to dispel.

Tell how, when at length the fullness,
Of th’appointed time was come,
Christ, the Word, was born of woman,
Left for us His heavenly home;
Showed us human life made perfect,
Shone as light amid the gloom.

Lo! He lies an Infant weeping,
Where the narrow manger stands,
While the mother-maid His members
Wraps in mean and lowly bands,
And the swaddling clothes is winding
Round His helpless feet and hands.

Thus, with thirty years accomplished,
Went He forth from Nazareth,
Destined, dedicated, willing,
Wrought His work, and met His death.
Like a lamb He humbly yielded
On the cross His dying breath.

There the nails and spears He suffers,
Vinegar, and gall, and reed;
From His sacred body piercèd
Blood and water both proceed;
Precious flood, which all creation
From the stain of sin hath freed.

Faithful cross, thou sign of triumph,
Now for us the noblest tree,
None in foliage, none in blossom,
None in fruit thy peer may be;
Symbol of the world’s redemption,
For the weight that hung on thee!

Bend thy boughs, O tree of glory!
Thy relaxing sinews bend;
For awhile the ancient rigor
That thy birth bestowed, suspend;
And the King of heavenly beauty
On thy bosom gently tend!

Thou alone wast counted worthy
This world’s ransom to sustain,
That a shipwrecked race forever
Might a port of refuge gain,
With the sacred blood anointed
Of the Lamb of sinners slain.

To the Trinity be glory
Everlasting, as is meet:
Equal to the Father, equal
To the Son, and Paraclete:
God the Three in One, whose praises
All created things repeat.

Were You There?

Johnny Cash and the Carter Family in 1960.



Hat tip to Canon Kendall Harmon at TitusOneNine

St. Patrick's Breastplate (The Lorica)

In honor of the Feast of St. Patrick who died this day c. 461, here is Cecil Alexander's translation of his wondrous hymn to the Holy Trinity as sung at the fine traditionalist St. John's Episcopal Church in Detroit. And, yes, St. Patrick's Day is also the day of my birth. Which rather makes this hymn all the more significant to me in so many ways.



I bind unto myself today
    the strong Name of the Trinity,
by invocation of the same,
    the Three in One, and One in Three.

I bind this day to me forever,
    by power of faith, Christ's Incarnation;
his baptism in the Jordan river;
    his death on cross for my salvation;
his bursting from the spiced tomb;
    his riding up the heavenly way;
his coming at the day of doom:
    I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
    of the great love of cherubim;
the sweet "Well done" in judgement hour;
    the service of the seraphim;
confessors' faith, apostles' word,
    the patriarchs' prayers, the prophets' scrolls;
all good deeds done unto the Lord,
    and purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
    the virtues of the starlit heaven,
the glorious sun's life-giving ray,
    the whiteness of the moon at even,
the flashing of the lightning free,
    the whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
the stable earth, the deep salt sea,
    around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
    the power of God to hold and lead,
his eye to watch, his might to stay,
    his ear to hearken to my need;
the wisdom of my God to teach,
    his hand to guide, his shield to ward;
the word of God to give me speech,
    his heavenly host to be my guard.

    Christ be with me, Christ within me,
        Christ behind me, Christ before me,
    Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
        Christ to comfort and restore me,
    Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
        Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
    Christ in hearts of all that love me,
        Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,
    the strong Name of the Trinity,
by invocation of the same,
    the Three in One, and One in Three.
Of whom all nature hath creation,
    eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
praise to the Lord of my salvation,
    salvation is of Christ the Lord.

Good Friday

Photo: Good Friday 2011, Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church of Peoria

              Who was the guilty?
              Who brought this upon thee?
              Alas, my treason, Jesus,
              hath undone thee.
              'Twas I, Lord Jesus,
              I it was denied thee;
              I crucified thee.

Johann Heermann, 1585-1647; tr. Robert Bridges, 1844-1930
From the hymn "Ah, Holy Jesus" (Herzliebster Jesu)

The STS at Worship

I just learned about this video snip from the opening Eucharist at last Fall's General Retreat of the Society of the Holy Trinity that's been on YouTube. The setting is the Chapel at the University of St. Mary of the Lake/Mundelein Seminary for the Feast of St. Michael and All Saints 2009 as we are singing the grand hymn, "Ye Watchers and Ye Holy Ones".



In case you're wondering, you can see me in my alb (I'm the Thurifer) standing near the Processional Cross which is to the the right-side (from the viewer's perspective) of the Altar.

Alleluia! Christ Is Risen!

Come, ye faithful, raise the strain
    of triumphant gladness!
God hath brought his Israel
    into joy from sadness:
loosed from Pharoah's bitter yoke
    Jacob's sons and daughters,
led them with unmoistened foot
    through the Red Sea waters.

'Tis the spring of souls today:
    Christ hath burst his prison,
and from three days' sleep in death
    as a sun hath risen;
all the winter of our sins,
    long and dark, is flying
from his light, to whom we give
    laud and praise undying.

Now the queen of seasons, bright
    with the day of splendor,
with the royal feast of feasts,
    comes its joy to render;
comes to glad Jerusalem,
    who with true affection
welcomes in unwearied strains
    Jesus' resurrection.

Neither might the gates of death,
    nor the tomb's dark portal,
nor the watchers, nor the seal
    hold thee as a mortal:
but today amidst the twelve
    thou didst stand, bestowing
that thy peace which evermore
    passeth human knowing.

Alleluia now we cry
    to our King Immortal,
who triumphant burst the bars
    of the tomb's dark portal;
alleluia, with the Son
    God the Father praising;
alleluia yet again
    to the Spirit raising.

        St. John of Damascus, c. 676-749
        tr. John Mason Neale, 1818-1866

Wait 'til next year!

Oh my, what an ugly way to end what had been a wonderful season. Yes, I listened to the whole thing on XM radio with the hometown announcers. Boston 9, Los Angeles Angels 1.

After the Cubs lose to the Diamondbacks, ending their season. (Theological content here on TitusOneNine. And Canon Harmon lives in South Carolina!)

The worst Notre Dame football team in anybody's memory beats UCLA, 20-6. Ugh!

Out of the depths I cry to you:
O Father, hear me calling.
Incline you ear to my distress
In spite of my rebelling.
Do not regard myh sinful deeds.
Send me the grace my spirit needs;
Without it I am nothing.
      (stanza 1, Out of the Depths I Cry to You,
      Martin Luther, tr. Gracia Grindal,
      paraphrase of Psalm 130, LBW hymn #295)

But then there's this: the 41-point underdog Stanford Indians, er, Cardinal upset the USC Brain Surgeons: 24-23!!

Alleluia!!!

My soul is waiting for the Lord
As one who longs for morning;
No watcher waits with greater hope
Than I for his returning.
I hope as Israel in the Lord;
He sends redemption through his Word.
We praise him for his mercy.
      (stanza 4)

Wait 'til next year!