I was glad when they said unto me...

I was glad when they said unto me: Let us go into the house of the LORD.

Here is a three-hour YouTube video of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II at Westminster Abbey, 2 June 1953, as broadcast by the BBC.

If you click the “more” button in the YouTube description, you will find a description of the musical forces – including twenty trebles chosen by audition from parish choirs by the RSCM, who spent a month in residence at Addington Palace preparing to join the choristers of the Abbey, St. Paul’s, and St. George’s, Windsor: 182 trebles in all. With the ATBs and orchestral forces: 480 musicians.

And you will find the music list. Of particular interest to my friends who attended this summer’s RSCM St. Louis Course, the Hubert Parry anthem “I was glad” (22 and a half minutes into the tape), in its proper liturgical setting. It comes at the end of a twenty-minute procession (accompanied by part of Handel’s Water Music) as the Queen enters the abbey, with the “Vivats” as she and her attendants pass under the Rood Screen into the choir and chancel. The quieter section “O pray for the peace of Jerusalem” comes as she kneels for prayer. Since this is a television broadcast, they unfortunately lower the volume for the announcer to speak during the climactic ending of the anthem, as the Crown and other regalia are placed on the Altar.

Following the Parry, a bit of high-stakes organ improvisation, by (I think) William McKie, organist of the Abbey. [Correction: I see in the comments to the video that McKie was conducting the combined musical forces during the service; Sir Adrian Boult had conducted the orchestral music before and after the service. Osborne Peasegood (1902-1962), sub-organist of the Abbey, was organist for the service.] There is a bit of Parry’s hymn tune Laudate Dominum (O praise ye the Lord) near the end of it, and additional improvisation at various points, most notably near the end as the retiring procession begins, leading up to the fanfare and the National Anthem (God save the Queen). First-rate playing in the grand English cathedral manner.

There is much more of musical interest: first performances of anthems by Herbert Howells, William H. Harris, George Dyson; a newly composed Te Deum by William Walton, and anthems composed for the occasion by Healey Willan and Ralph Vaughan Williams.

RVW has a large musical part in this service: it is his setting of the Mass which is sung (the Credo and Sanctus from his G Minor Mass), plus his setting of the Old Hundredth Psalm Tune, arranged for this occasion (1 hour 53 minutes into the tape). This is a great masterpiece, one of my favorites of his works – but the greatest gem is a bit later, during Holy Communion: a short motet which RVW wrote for the occasion, “O taste and see” (2 hours 17 minutes). After all of the loud music and grandeur, an unaccompanied treble solo (sung by a small group of trebles, it sounds like), then the choir, quiet and unaccompanied. Ninety seconds and it is done. The effect in this context is stunning.

There is more even than this: some Stanford, and Samuel Sebastian Wesley, the Tudor anthem “Rejoice in the Lord alway,” an Amen by Gibbons, and “Zadok the Priest,” which has been sung at every coronation since Handel wrote it for George II. It is as essential to a British coronation as “I was glad” has become.

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Three impressions:

It is hard to overstate the impressiveness of the choir’s initial entrance in “I was glad,” the first vocal music of the day. Most of the congregation had been there for hours. A long prelude of orchestral music had preceded the procession. Already the leaders of church and state had walked down the aisle, the archbishops of York and Canterbury among them, and the Prime Ministers of the Commonwealth, followed by the Prime Minister of Great Britain, Winston Churchill, one of the heroes of the twentieth century. A brass fanfare, then the majestic introduction that begins the Parry. And then the choir sings.

The Coronation is above all else a sacred liturgy according to the use of the Church of England, in essence an Ordination, complete with Gospel, Creed, Offertory of Bread and Wine (handed to the Archbishop by the new Queen), Eucharistic Prayer, Confession, Communion. I wonder whether the next coronation will include such things, given the multi-cultural and thoroughly secular nature of modern Britain.

On this day, Elizabeth is a very serious and determined young woman. She came of age during the Battle of Britain and a war where it seemed that Britain might be destroyed forever; she knew that the post-war world was changing in ways that were unknowable, and that it was her responsibility to lead her people through it.

From her Christmas Message the previous December:

At my Coronation next June, I shall dedicate myself anew to your service. I shall do so in the presence of a great congregation, drawn from every part of the Commonwealth and Empire, while millions outside Westminster Abbey will hear the promises and the prayers being offered up within its walls, and see much of the ancient ceremony in which Kings and Queens before me have taken part through century upon century.

You will be keeping it as a holiday; but I want to ask you all, whatever your religion may be, to pray for me on that day - to pray that God may give me wisdom and strength to carry out the solemn promises I shall be making, and that I may faithfully serve Him and you, all the days of my life.

Evening Song, Canticles, and H. M. the Queen

Our First Sunday choral evensong on Sept. 6 went well. I do not have time to say much about it beyond grateful thanks to the choristers, especially the new choristers of the St. Simeon's Choir, which augments the regular Trinity Choir for evensongs – this was the first time for the combined groups.

But I do wish to refer you to some music from the service:

The organ prelude: by David Hurd, “Evening Song.” It is a quiet and contemplative piece, obviously influenced by Messiaen. I own Dr. Hurd an enormous debt, for he was the first Organist that I heard. I was eighteen, newly arrived at Duke, and singing in the Chapel Choir for the first Sunday of the term, when it was open to all comers. As we processed into the Duke Chapel, Hurd was playing the Bach Prelude and Fugue in B Minor on the old Aeolian organ - I believe that this was his first Sunday, as well, at least his first semester as Chapel Organist.

The Bach piece changed my life. I had no idea that Real Music could be a part of Christian worship. I knew of Bach -- by this time, I had played some of the first book of the Well Tempered Clavier -- but I had never heard any of the organ music; indeed, I had never heard a pipe organ.

I did not take organ lessons at Duke: a friend who was an organ major discouraged me from it. But the seed was planted. And I did not sing in the Duke Choirs; I auditioned - twice - and did not make the cut. This was grievous to me at the time, but it has proven to be better for me as a choral director; it has given me a firm commitment to the welcoming of all who evidence sufficient desire to come to rehearsals.

And here are the Canticles: the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis. These were composed for our choir by Justin Mann during the year that our Pilcher organ was in storage for a construction project and we were worshipping in the Parish Hall. Thus, the accompaniment is for piano. I do not know of another setting of the Canticles with piano accompaniment, which in my opinion should give this version wide applicability. On two Wednesdays' rehearsal, we did not entirely do it justice, but I hope that the YouTube clip gives a sufficient idea of the piece.

I must hurry on, but I cannot close without special thanks to Jean L., who suggested the idea of the St. Simeon's Choir and did much to make it possible.

And I also wish to congratulate Her Majesty the Queen: on this day, she passes Victoria as the longest-reigning British monarch. She is the "Royal" in the Royal School of Church Music -- that is, she is the RSCM's Royal Patron. Her mother, of blessed memory, was the Patron after the death of George VI (who, until his death, was the Patron, as was his father). It is said that she frequently visited the RSCM Courses in Great Britain, to hang out with the choristers and especially the directors, with whom she would have a bit of sherry or other refreshment. And she was diligent in this work to the end of her long life. Since then, Elizabeth R. has been the Patron. She is not a great fan of classical music, but she takes the RSCM seriously and supports its work.

Long live the Queen!

Lessons and Carols: The Heritage

A Service of Lessons and Carols: King's College, Cambridge, Christmas 1954

In honor of the sixtieth year of televised broadcasts of the Service, BBC replayed the first broadcast, from the Year of Our Lord 1954.

The United Kingdom had a beloved young Queen, nearing the end of her second year on the throne; it had an eighty-year-old Prime Minister, perhaps the greatest in the history of the Kingdom but now nearing the end of his days: Winston Churchill.

The Choir of King's was directed by the legendary Boris Ord, like Churchill nearing the end of his long tenure (1929-57, excepting the War years). It is fascinating to watch him at work in the video; he stands at the end of the treble line and the choir is led by almost imperceptible nods of the head. All is done with the utmost dignity.

And the Choir sings better in this video than they do now. That is not all Ord's doing (though much of it is); times have changed, and it is more difficult to maintain a choir of men and boys, even in a place such as King's. Listen to the shape of the phrases, the precise attacks and releases, the diction, the blend. Listen also to the quality of the soloists, both trebles and choirmen.

At the organ is Hugh McLean. Notice the manner in which the hymns are played: the organ enters with a chord one beat before the voices. This was the old-time way of playing, and very effective in a large acoustic. All of the playing is solid, reserved, supportive.

I notice that the Lectors conclude with “Thanks be to God,” just as they do now, so that is not a modern innovation as I had thought.

At the end, the “Amens” from the Smith Responses are a nice touch.


All in all, I enjoyed this much more than the 2014 service, fine as it was. The selection of music is superior, the standard of performance is higher. And it is shorter by some forty-five minutes.

It seems to me by comparison that the Service has become somewhat bloated in recent years. One senses more of a desire to showcase the virtuosity of the Choir rather than to simply sing straightforward music – most of it homophonic, often strophic, and none of it terribly difficult – that supports the Lessons, and to sing it with utmost perfection. I do not fault Mr. Cleobury for his work with the current Choir; he is doing what he must, and they remain one of the finest choirs in the world. I fault the times in which we live, and the manner in which Great Britain has changed over these sixty years.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo. “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” [J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Fellowship of the Ring”]

Scottish Independence

The Scottish vote on the question of independence is this Thursday, September 18. I am among the many Americans whose ancestry is more Scottish than otherwise, so I look on this with interest. And I am a Son of the South, where we were not given an opportunity to vote on secession. Our wishes were clear, but they could not prevail against Sherman, Grant, Lincoln, and their armies [I spare a thought for the men in the trenches around Richmond and Petersburg one hundred fifty years ago, and in the Shenandoah Valley, where Gen. Sheridan was to defeat the Confederate forces there in battles on Sept. 19 and Sept. 21-22, freeing the Yankees to burn the Valley from end to end, destroying all the season's crops and turning it into a wasteland going into winter...]

If it were me, my vote would be a resounding YES, remembering Wallace, the Jacobite risings, the highland clearances, and noting the manner in which the financiers of the City of London currently suck all the life out of the realm (as Wall Street does in this country), leaving little but dregs for the likes of Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland.

But I would not want to stray very far; I would remember fighting alongside the English in three centuries of wars. And I would still want to be a subject of the Queen and her successors. That is not directly at question tomorrow, and will take considerable sorting out, should the Yes vote prevail. So will many other things.

On Thursday, it is up to the Scottish people. I wish my Scottish friends – those in our companion diocese of Brechen, and elsewhere in that great Land – the very best, however it turns out.

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I have been away from the Music Box for too long, and should not be taking the time this evening to write these words. I do not know when I can return more regularly, but you, my readers, are in my thoughts. May God's blessings be with you.

And did those feet in ancient times...

One of the functions of an Episcopal Parish is to be the ethnic home for a certain minority group, one that is often overlooked in modern American life.

This afternoon, we conducted the Burial Office for a daughter of the Church of England. She has lived most of her long adult life in a small Midwestern farming town with no Episcopal Parish in town, or in any of the neighboring towns. She made it clear to her children that when the time came, she wanted to be buried with the ceremonies proper to the Episcopal Church, and the Book of Common Prayer.

So, she was. The family, none of them Episcopalians, came to us and asked if we might do the service; of course we agreed. This being a holiday and neither of our regular clergy being available, one of our retired associate priests was Officiant.

About forty people gathered; children, grandchildren, friends, most of them still living in that Midwestern farming town. The liturgy was the Burial Office, Rite One; we sang “Abide with me” and “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.” As requested, I played the tune Jerusalem (“And did those feet in ancient times”), on full organ, before the Commendation. The children had noted that she and her husband (dead these seventeen years) ensured that they knew all the British songs, and sang them regularly at home. She thrilled to the events of the Royal Family, most recently the birth and christening of Prince George; she adored the Queen (as do I).

And every afternoon, without fail, she and her husband would have Tea. They were doubtless the only family in the town, perhaps the county, to observe this custom.

At the end, after most of the people had gone out, I played one last song for this Daughter of England: “God save the Queen,” on eight foot flutes. All of the children came back in to listen, tears in their eyes.

Your Majesty, you will never know it (not, at least, in this life), but you have lost a loyal subject. You have many others, some of them in the most unlikely places.

The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended

The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended,
the darkness falls at thy behest;
to thee our morning hymns ascended,
thy praise shall sanctify our rest.

For a variety of reasons I did not manage a proper warmup on the organ pieces either this morning or in the afternoon for Evensong; still, they all went well enough. I believe that I played well for the contemporary service too, finishing with a piano improvisation on St. Patrick's Breastplate, a tune which I love.

Better still, the choir sang well at both services. I was especially proud of them for repairing the pitch on the Evensong responses: we were drifting flat, I indicated to them that they should raise the pitch as we chanted the Lord's Prayer, and they did – just as we had practiced earlier in the choir season.

We had a small congregation at the Choral Eucharist, but they took a stanza of Nicaea (Holy, holy, holy; Lord God Almighty) unaccompanied with their usual elegant singing; this was another highlight of the day for me, much better than any of my own playing.

We thank thee that thy Church, unsleeping
while earth rolls onward into light,
through all the world her watch is keeping
and rests not now by day or night.

The day was not without its problems. One of the street people we have helped was in a bad way today; he came in at 6:30 am as I was attempting to practice, wanting money “to buy clothes.” He was acting strangely; I told him so, asking him if he was stoned. “No. That's the same thing the police thought; they said 'you're acting like you're on meth.' But I don't do drugs.” I am not convinced of that. I finally got him on his way, but he returned after the Choral Eucharist, again seeking money from the people “for some lunch.” They told him of the free dinner at the Salvation Army a bit later in the day.

I encountered him yet again as I returned from my own dinner at the Chinese restaurant. “My bus leaves at 4:00. I can't go to that Salvation Army dinner, and I'm hungry.” Despite my determination not to help him, I gave him $5.

Two of the fears I have about helping people were in evidence today: one is the idea that I am throwing money away, giving it to people who will immediately spend it on drugs or booze, which may have happened with that $5 (and some of the other money I have given this fellow over the past months). The other fear is entanglement: another of our “regulars” passed through a couple of times today. He was fresh out of jail, having spent a week there for marijuana possession, and full of cheer. But he was asking a long-term commitment of me that I am not willing to give.

And all of this was when I wanted to focus on the day's music, which is my primary duty.

As o'er each continent and island
the dawn leads on another day,
the voice of prayer is never silent,
nor dies the strain of praise away.

This weekend is the Queen's Jubilee. I believe that when an earthly monarch is faithful to her duty as she has been for these sixty years, it points toward the King of Kings, whose name is Faithful and True (Revelation 19:4-16). The manner in which Elizabeth's life is bound up with her nation and her subjects is not dissimilar in its way to the manner in which the Christ has become bound up with us his servants, giving his life for us. I think that she would be pleased if her life could point others toward the one whom she acknowledges as Lord and Saviour.

[EDITED to add, mostly for my own reference: A Sermon by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Tuesday 5th June 2012]

So be it, Lord; thy throne shall never,
like earth's proud empires, pass away;
thy kingdom stands, and grows for ever,
till all thy creatures own thy sway.

By the time I got everyone out the door after an evening concert and locked the church, I was reduced to puttering around and doing a few items from my overflowing “In” box while listening to the BBC Choral Evensong. As our fine Evensong sermon said, this day is a point of equipoise; we have finished one cycle and begin another.

There is a book entitled “Lark Rise to Candleford,” given to me by one of my dearest friends many years ago. In that book, it became clear in retrospect that Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee was a point of transition, after which most of what had been good fell into decay and death. It may be that this Diamond Jubilee is too; the world seems bent on careening toward ruin.

Unto God's care we commit ourselves, and all the families of the earth.

J. S. Bach, Thomas Ken, and the Queen

Today, March 21, is the birthday of J. S. Bach. In his honor, my fellow organist M.S. played an all-Bach program for the noontime Lenten recital at the Congregational Church today. Her playing is elegant, secure, and splendid. I wish that I could hear her more often, but on Sundays, she is on the bench at the Presbyterian Church and I am at the Episcopal Church. If one is a musician, one must often sacrifice the opportunity to hear others play in order to be faithful to one's own rehearsals, practicing, and services.

Today is the Feast of Thomas Ken, Bishop. One of his Office Hymns applies to the above:

Redeem thy misspent time that's past
And live each day as if thy last;
Improve thy talent with due care,
For the great day thyself prepare.

This is the second stanza of the morning hymn “Awake, my soul, and with the sun,” number 11 in the Hymnal 1982, and unaccountably omitted from the hymn by the Editors of that book. It is the best part of the hymn, except perhaps for the final stanza, of which more shortly. I have copied it into my hymnal, and posted a written-out copy of it on my door as an admonition.

Bishop Ken was, earlier in his life, Chaplain to King Charles II. He got himself shuffled off into a bishopric and out of the King's household because he continually rebuked the King for his dissolute manner of life.

And that brings me to the current Queen. Yesterday she addressed the joint Houses of Parliament in Westminster Hall on the occasion of her Diamond Jubilee.

She has conducted herself with integrity these many years. Twelve Prime Ministers have come and gone; she has been the constant throughout. I believe that her presence has made possible the British Commonwealth, a family of nations encompassing (as she observed in the speech) one-third of the world's people. Had she been a worthless scoundrel like Charles II, it is hard to say what would have become of Great Britain in the latter half of the twentieth century.

My first taste of Bishop Ken came from a time when I knew nothing about him, not even the hymn of which the following is the final stanza. But this stanza was a staple of some of the churches I served, and has spread as widely perhaps as any bit of hymnody in the English language. For many years, I was unable to play an improvisation without landing in the key of G Major, ready to launch into the Doxology:

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heav'nly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.

[Edited to add: I learned at Evensong tonight that this is no longer the Feast of Thomas Ken in the American church. According to the revised calendar, "Holy Women, Holy Men," this is now the feast of Thomas Cranmer, who was martyred on this day in 1556. Ken was pushed back a day to March 20, which in turn pushes Cuthbert off of his traditional feast day. He is now combined with Aidan of Lindisfarne on St. Aidan's traditional day, August 31.

I much prefer the old arrangement, wherein Cranmer was combined with Latimer and Ridley on the day of their martyrdom, October 16. But it matters little; all of them are saints, and all of them have reached their heavenly rest in the presence of the Lord. May we do likewise.]