"For All the Saints": Encore!

There are THREE MORE STANZAS in the Cyber Hymnal version of "For All the Saints" than have appeared in any hymnal I own. We'll have to consider those later.

"For All the Saints": Warfare and Light in the Bedroom

In comparing the three official supplements of the Episcopal Hymnal 1982, I've noticed that their language becomes gradually more pacifistic. No more "marching to Zion"—no, now we're just enfolded in a "warm embrace."

Now I'm about as female as they come. I wear skirts six days a week; I bake cookies (when I'm not struggling with morning sickness—four weeks to go till the end of the first trimester!); I sing lullabies for pleasure; I'm kind to animals. But! I like action movies and adventure stories and fairy tales of knights fighting dragons; like every human on the planet, I struggle against temptation, fight to control my tongue, battle inward thoughts, and occasionally have to speak sharply to make a point. The metaphor of warfare in my daily life, usually against myself, very much applies.

So we come to Ralph Vaughan Williams' setting of Bishop How's saints song. Lying in bed last week with a churning tummy, nibbling a ginger muffin and sipping water before daring to stand up, I found "For All the Saints" had fresh meaning. Thank God it was in the Episcopal Hymnal!—even if variations on the theme wouldn't show up in the supplements.

The first stanza doesn't actually set the theme so well—gratitude for the saints, but they rest only from "labours" and not from the warfare that marks the rest of the song, except for the last stanza. I wonder, however, if those first and last stanzas, the bookends that don't fit the books, have a sly way of saying, "Warfare is not really the point. Blessing, thanksgiving, and singing are the beginning and end of the story."

Through the middle six stanzas, the themes of warfare and light are interestingly intermingled.

Stanza 2: The Lord, the Captain of the "well-fought fight", is also the one true Light in the darkness.

Stanza 3: His soldiers fight as the saints of old to win a gold crown (you have to envision gold to see the light here).

Stanza 4: While we are feebly struggling, those saints are shining in glory—in the full presence of the Light that cheers us now.

Stanza 5: This one leaves out the light theme, but stealing on the ear is a "distant triumph-song" in the fiercest strife and longest war. I suddenly like that light is left out of this one stanza, because it makes the substitute, that distant strain of music, seem light-like in its place. It reminds me of a Wendell Berry poem about morning light darting into a room like a little bird through the window.

Stanza 6: As the golden evening brightens in the west (the setting sun, the end of our lives, the end of the world), the faithful warriors expect rest.

Stanza 7: And lo! before the darkness settles in, there "breaks a yet more glorious day". All of us saints rise triumphant in "bright array" while the "King of glory" (perfect Captain/King, perfect Light/glory) passes us in review.

So there you have it. The ridiculous feeble struggle of a young pregnant woman trying to get out of bed is suddenly lit by millions of saints and one strong Light. A "distant triumph-song" sounds in the darkened bedroom. No more warm embrace of blankets! The woman finishes her muffin (and the last stanza of the hymn) and decides to try to stand.

Actually, I made it to work only four minutes late.

"Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven": A Lesson in Hymn Editing

Please do check out an article that appeared in Touchstone magazine, "No More 'Hims' of Praise". It's a little sarcastic, but proves a good lesson on why we should exercise much more care in editing hymns--or why we should keep our hands off the hymn editing altogether!

"Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven" is the subject. The author takes us through a contemporary version of the hymn and compares it to the original, with commentary, stanza by stanza.