Today’s hymn comes from a man who is thought to have been one of the scholars behind the Geneva Bible of 1560. He lived for a time in Geneva (overlapping dates with the great John Calvin) and worked on 25 Psalm versifications for an English psalter. This one, derived from Ps. 100, has endured until today and found the most popularity. The tune also comes from Calvin’s service to the church, being attributed to his music director Louis Bourgeois.
“Know that the LORD, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.” (Psalm 100:3 ESV)
1 All people that on earth do dwell, sing to the Lord with cheerful voice; him serve with fear, his praise forth tell, come ye before him and rejoice.
2 The Lord ye know is God indeed; without our aid he did us make; we are his folk, he doth us feed, and for his sheep he doth us take.
3 O enter then his gates with praise, approach with joy his courts unto; praise, laud, and bless his name always, for it is seemly so to do.
4 For why? The Lord our God is good, his mercy is forever sure; his truth at all times firmly stood, and shall from age to age endure.
Speaking of Norway, when I began earning spending money in my late teens, I agreed to receive the initial offer from The Musical Heritage Society. You could receive the monthly featured album (tape or CD) very naturally (they would just assume you wanted it) or refuse it. They sent a small musical review to let you know what you would receive with plenty of time to opt out. That’s how I was introduced to Camille Saint-Saëns’s Symphony No. 3 which added a pipe organ to orchestra. It’s how I fell in love with Dvorak’s Symphony No 9 (The New World Symphony) and judge every other recording of it by the one I played repeatedly in my 20s. I was familiar with “Flight of the Bumblebee” and Scheherazade from the radio, so I bought four tapes of Rimsky-Korsakov’s music, one with the Arabia Nights piece, the other three with several works I didn’t know, like the “Procession of the Nobles.”
The Musical Heritage Society is also how I purchased a tape of Edvard Grieg’s Peer Gynt, recorded with full choir for The Hall of the Mountain King and a gorgeous soprano for Solvieg’s Song. This recording, which I think only had voices in these two pieces,
I listened to this music so much, I engrained it in my mind. Later I forgot where certain familiar melodies (one or two) came from. I remembered them casually, almost as if I’d made them up, and lo, they were from Peer Gynt. Moments like that make me think I haven’t had an original thought in my life. Maybe all of my ideas are just a snatch of something I heard in the past, ripped from its context, its source forgotten.
We had realized for many months the insecurity of our position in England as there was so much hate growing in the hearts of the general populace. This could be understood because we had many German members; also the pacifism of our English members roused a bitter spirit in nationalistic minds.
It is my custom, every May 17, to make some kind of mention of Norway’s Constitution Day, celebrated each year on this date. I’ve told the story of the holiday many times – this year I’ll restrict myself to saying that Norway celebrates its Constitution Day as its major national holiday because of a historical anomaly – we had a constitution for almost a century before we got independence. So Constitution Day became the traditional patriotic holiday.
The video above is rather nice – lots of natural beauty, in which Norway is excessively rich. If you’d like a translation of the lyrics, you can find it here.
The Syttende Mai present I received today was a good writing session. I actually gave myself the shivers reading the current draft of The Baldur Game. I suppose that’s insufferable, like comedians who laugh at their own jokes. But writing at my level offers few tangible rewards. And finding the same exhilaration in your own writing that you get from your favorite authors’ is as delicious as it is rare.
To make things even better, I had a thought today – not as common an occurrence as you might imagine. (G. B. Shaw once said that he’d made an international reputation by thinking once or twice a month.) I can’t remember what provoked the thought (perhaps it was the creative thrill I described above, but I’m not sure). But it suddenly appeared, fully formed in my head, and even after several hours I can find no fault with it. It goes like this:
No work of art is ever fully original, nor should it be. Art is a multimedia matrix of interactive themes and influences — all hyperlinked, in a sense. Taken all together, great art participates in an infinitely greater tapestry.
Today’s hymn is by German lawyer and hymnist Johann Jakob Schütz (1640-1690). The recording above has only two verses, and the second isn’t copied below. Perhaps it’s another translation.
“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end” (Lamentations 3:22 ESV).
1 Sing praise to God who reigns above, The God of all creation, The God of pow’r, the God of love, The God of our salvation; With healing balm my soul He fills And ev’ry pain and sorrow stills: To God all praise and glory!
2 The angel hosts Thy praises sing Around Thy throne in heaven. On earth and sea, O mighty King, All praise to Thee is given. Let all who ‘neath Thy shadow dwell In hymns of praise Thy wisdom tell: To God all praise and glory!
3 What God hath wrought to show His might, He evermore sustaineth. His eye is o’er us day and night, His mercy never waneth. Thro’out His kingdom’s wide domain His works are right, His judgments plain: To God all praise and glory!
4 I cried to God in my distress, His mercy heard me calling; My Savior saw my helplessness And kept my feet from falling; For this, Lord, praise and thanks to Thee! Praise God most high, praise God with me! To God all praise and glory!
5 Ye, who confess the Savior’s name, To God give praise and glory! Ye who the Father’s might proclaim, To God give praise and glory! Let idols under foot be trod! The Lord is God! The Lord is God! To God all praise and glory!
6 Thus, all my gladsome way along, I’ll sing aloud Thy praises, That men may hear the grateful song My voice unwearied raises; Be joyful in the Lord, my heart, Both soul and body, bear your part; To God all praise and glory!
This month, our theme will be the Almighty. Today’s hymn is based on Psalm 145, written by Englishman Richard Mant (1776-1848), the rector and bishop of many English towns. The tune is from an influential German hymnal of the 16th century.
“They shall speak of the might of your awesome deeds, and I will declare your greatness” (Psalm 145:6 ESV).
1 God, my king, thy might confessing, ever will I bless thy name; day by day thy throne addressing, still will I thy praise proclaim.
2 Honor great our God befitteth; who his majesty can reach? Age to age his works transmitteth; age to age his pow’r shall teach.
3 They shall talk of all thy glory, on thy might and greatness dwell, speak of thy great acts the story, and thy deeds of wonder tell.
4 Nor shall fail from mem’ry’s treasure works by love and mercy wrought: works of love surpassing measure, works of mercy passing thought.
5 Full of kindness and compassion, slow to anger, vast in love, God is good to all creation; all his works his goodness prove.
6 All thy works, O Lord, shall bless thee, thee shall all thy saints adore. King supreme shall they confess thee, and proclaim thy sovereign pow’r.
I’ve got a busy day today, so let me start by sharing a little light verse.
You live a few days then you die And sometimes you ask yourself why. What could bring relief? The next season’s release. Go watch and the time will fly by.
They’re calling to all of the sheep To occupy Ivy League Street Don’t think of the issues Just bring down your tissues And cry, yell, scream, chant, and repeat.
Scotland: From the land of the free and the home of the brave comes this tale of Black Agnes, who held Castle Dunbar against the English for several months in 1338, saying among other things”
‘Of Scotland’s King I haud my house, He pays me meat and fee, And I will keep my gude auld house, While my house will keep me.’
A New Review: John Wilson imagines a Christian review periodical and what it’s pushback would sound like: “We’re beset on every hand by attacks on our core convictions, by enemies of our faith, and you are whining about book reviews?”
Of publishers it may be said that like the English as a race they are incapable of philosophy. They deal in particulars and adhere easily to Sydney Smith’s dictum that one should take short views, hope for the best, and trust God.
William Jovanovich, Now, Barabbas
Photo: John Margolies Roadside America photograph archive (1972-2008), Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division
Last Saturday I ventured outside my comfort zone to make the perilous drive to downtown Minneapolis (one of the still unburned parts), to hear a lecture. The lecture was delivered at the Mindekirken, the Norwegian Memorial Church (there’s one in Chicago too), where they hold a Norwegian language service every Sunday. You’d think I’d go there all the time, but they’re not really my kind of Lutherans. However, they offer cultural and language programs too, and I lectured myself there once, at one of their regular lunchtime events.
One reason I don’t go there more often is that it’s an awful place to drive to. The conservative Center Of the American Experiment, based here in Minnesota, has documented the fact that our city planners have it as an explicit goal to make driving around here as inconvenient as possible – so we peasants will be compelled to use buses and the wonderful light rail they’re forcing us to pay for. I don’t think I’ve ever driven to the Mindekirken without getting turned around in some way – even with GPS.
Anyway, I arrived at last, only a few minutes late. I came in during the introduction, so I didn’t miss any of the lecture.
The lecturer was my online friend, Pastor Thomas E. Jacobson, who has recently had a book released. It boasts the surprising title, Pain In the Belly: The Haugean Witness In American Lutheranism. I’ve written about the Norwegian lay evangelist Hans Nielsen Hauge many times before in this space – just do a search in the box up above if you’re curious. We Haugeans (I still identify as a Haugean) have been called a sect, but we never separated from Lutheranism or denied its basic tenets. In Norway, the Haugeans in any parish tended to pool their money to build a “bedehus,” a prayer house. There, after having attended regular services in their local Lutheran churches, they could gather among themselves and hold “edification meetings” and other social and educational functions. Many bedehuser still exist in Norway, and continue to be used for something like their original purpose.
I haven’t read Tom’s book yet, but I thought I’d give it a plug here anyway. It focuses on the influence of the Haugeans on Lutheranism in the USA. The title comes from a comment made by a Haugean leader when the old Hauge Synod at last agreed to join a church merger. When told that a theologian in one of the more conservative groups entering new church body had said that he rejoiced that the Haugeans would now be “swallowed up” in mainstream Lutheranism, this man said he expected to cause them “a pain in the belly.”
Sadly (in my view), in the long run the new church body and its successors turned out to have a pretty iron digestion.
In any case, we sang a hymn that Hans Nielsen Hauge wrote in 1799, “With God in Grace I’m Dwelling.” He wrote it during one of his imprisonments for illegal lay preaching. I looked for a video of somebody singing it, but as far as I can tell nobody has ever been bold enough to perform the hymn and leave a permanent record. So I’ll just transcribe a couple verses here. A common tune used for it is “Passion Chorale,” the one we use for “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded.”
With God in grace I’m dwelling, What harm can come to me From worldly pow’rs compelling My way thus closed to be? Though they in chains may bind me Inside this prison cell, Yet Christmas here can find me; Within my heart ʼtis well.
Our God has promised surely To free each seeking soul, Who walks in spirit purely With truth as way and goal. Whose heart the world’s deceiving Can never lead astray, Who, constantly believing, Will walk the Kingdom’s way.
God grant us now His power, And help us by His might To follow truth this hour, All guided by His light; And may we work together As one in mutual love, Forsaking self and gather At last in heav’n above.
The hymns this month have focused on Our Lord’s Table. Today’s song was written for an 1866 hymnal by the great English preacher Charles Spurgeon (1834-1892). The tune shared here is not one you would find in a hymnal. It’s a 2009 arrangement by Greg Kay.
“Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is my body’” (Matthew 26:26 ESV).
1 Amidst us our Beloved stands, and bids us view His pierced hands; points to the wounded feet and side, blest emblems of the Crucified.
2 What food luxurious loads the board, when, at His table, sits the Lord! The cup how rich, the bread how sweet, when Jesus deigns the guests to meet!
3 If now, with eyes defiled and dim, we see the signs, but see not Him; O may His love the scales displace, and bid us see Him face to face!
4 Our former transports we recount, when with Him in the holy mount: these cause our souls to thirst anew His marred but lovely face to view.
Point: Few people buy books that aren’t celebrity aligned. Britney Spears’s autobiography, released October 24, 2023, is currently #1 in Kindle, #10 in hardcover on Amazon. Aside of these, publishing houses stay afloat through backlist sales: Bibles, coloring books, and Don Quixote.
“Someone from a prestige big 5 imprint whose books are often award-contenders and bestsellers once told me any book that sold less than 25,000 in print was a failure for them. OTOH, when I was in an MFA program—where many of the professors wrote experimental literary novels and such—I was told anything more than 5,000 sales was a success. Some small press editors might be happy with 1,000 sales.”
Topping Amazon’s fiction list for most sold this week are The Women, by Kristin Hannah (12 weeks on the list) and The Covenant of Water, by Abraham Verghese (33 weeks).
As booklovers, we may want many more people to join us in reading, sharing, and enjoying the written or recorded word, but I don’t think the sky is falling yet.
Poetry: On April 26, 1336, a great poet climbed into the Alps just for the thrill of it, which people didn’t do in those days. Petrarch climbed to the top of Mont Ventoux (which is much higher today because of inflation) and read from Augustine’s Confessions, “Where I fixed my eyes first, it was written: ‘And men go to admire the high mountains, the vast floods of the sea, the huge streams of the rivers, the circumference of the ocean and the revolutions of the stars – and desert themselves.’ . . .”
Music: Ted Gioia writes western music isn’t what we think it is. “Just stop and think for a moment about the importance of Venice in the history of music. Everything from madrigals to operas found their home in that bustling port city—a key connecting point between West and East in the modern imagination.”
Today’s hymn, “Let Thy Blood in Mercy Poured,” comes from the Greek tradition, and maybe if I could type Greek, I could search for the title on Greek pages. But the sources I’ve seen give no date for that version of the hymn, only that is came into English via Glasgow native and Free Church minister John Brownlie (1857-1925). The tune is much older, written by Lutheran cantor at Berlin’s St. Nicholas Church, Johann Crüger (1598-1662).
“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Romans 12:1 ESV).
1 Let thy blood in mercy poured, let thy gracious body broken, be to me, O gracious Lord, of thy boundless love the token.
Refrain: Thou didst give thyself for me, now I give myself to thee.
2 Thou didst die that I might live; blessed Lord, thou cam’st to save me; all that love of God could give Jesus by his sorrows gave me. [Refrain]
3 By the thorns that crowned thy brow, by the spear wound and the nailing, by the pain and death, I now claim, O Christ, thy love unfailing. [Refrain]
4 Wilt thou own the gift I bring? All my penitence I give thee; thou art my exalted King, of thy matchless love forgive me. [Refrain]
