Program Notes by Rachel E. Barham, with Texts
Recital, Church of the Epiphany Tuesday Concert Series, Dec. 3, 2024
Rachel Evangeline Barham, soprano, Cha Young Park, piano
Welcome! Since we’re trying to cover three liturgical seasons in a 50-minute recital, we ask that if you wish to applaud, you do so only after each section (with the exception of “Silent night” played by Dr. Park!).
ADVENT
For the season of Advent, we begin with a world pleading for redemption (“Creator of the stars of night”). After that, we pause for an intimate moment that we rarely think about: the moment in which God makes the decision to come to earth in human form (“Prepare me one body”). This haunting spiritual, arranged by the phenomenal singer Roland Hayes, fulfills a liturgical imperative: without the pain of Good Friday—which leads to the joy of Easter—Christmas is meaningless. Like Bach placing the Passion Chorale in the Christmas Oratorio, my father, who was a United Methodist minister, always insisted on singing “The old rugged cross” at any Christmas carol-sing. The next voice we hear (Improvisation: Ave gratia plena) is the angel Gabriel as he announces to Mary that she will be the mother of Jesus. These are selections from Gabriel’s words in the Vulgate Bible rather than the “Ave Maria” text that has become standard. I hope to capture the sense of both joy and solemnity of the moment; Mary’s tenderness and awe, Gabriel’s power, but also Gabriel’s reverence for Mary. Next is “Gabriel’s greeting” by Barry Seaman, who sadly died in the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic. The sparse accompaniment fits well with this mystical text: a vision? a dream? of Mary rocking her baby and speaking with him even though all she knows about him is what Gabriel told her would happen. The bridge between Advent and Christmas is “Rejoice greatly,” in which the prophet predicts the salvation of the world. Texts for the Advent pieces follow.
Creator of the stars of night, your people’s everlasting light,
O Christ, Redeemer of us all, we pray you hear us when we call.
In sorrow that the ancient curse should doom to death a universe,
You came, O Savior, to set free your own in glorious liberty.
When this old world drew on toward night, you came; but not in splendor bright,
Not as a monarch, but the child of Mary, blameless mother mild.
At your great Name, O Jesus, now all knees must bend, all hearts must bow:
All things on earth with one accord, like those in heaven, shall call you Lord.
To God the Father, God the Son, and God the Spirit, Three in One,
Praise, honor, might, and glory be from age to age eternally. Amen.
- Latin, 9th century; version Hymnal 1940, alt.
Prepare me one body
I’ll go down, I’ll go down
Prepare me one body like man
I’ll go down and die.
The man of sorrows, sinner, see
I’ll go down, I’ll go down
He died for you and he died for me
I’ll go down and die.
- traditional
Ave gratia plena! Dominus tecum: benedicta tu in mulieribus!
Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you: blessed are you among women.
Ne timeas Maria: invenisti enim gratiam apud Deum.
Fear not, Mary, for you have found grace with God.
Ecce concipies in utero et paries filium, et vocabis nomen eius Iesum.
Behold! You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus.
- Luke 1: 28, 30-31
Gabriel’s Greeting
Lullay, lullay, la, la, lullay my dere moder, lullay.
As I lay upon a night alone in my longing,
Me thoughte I saw a wonder sight: A maiden child rocking.
The maiden woulde withouten song hire child asleep bringe;
The child thoughte she ded him wrong and bad his moder singe.
Sing now moder, seide that child, what me shall befalle
Hereafter whan I come to eld (when I get older), so don modres alle.
Swete son, seide she, wherof should I singe;
Wist I nevere yet (I don’t know anything) more of thee but Gabrieles gretinge.
- Anon. 14th century
Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Rejoice, O daughter of Jerusalem: Behold, thy king cometh unto thee. He is the righteous Savior, and he shall speak peace unto the heathen. Rejoice...
- Zechariah 9: 9, 10
CHRISTMAS
Our Christmas celebration begins quietly with “Sure on this shining night,” a moment in which all the world is whole and healed. It’s one of the first art songs many of us learn, but I find the words even more profound after witnessing the indescribable awe of the total solar eclipse last April, “wandering far alone of shadows on the stars.” Next, Dr. Park will play a beautiful arrangement of “Silent night,” and then we move on to several lullabies. As far as I can tell, “Old English lullaby” by Mary Howe and “Christmas lullaby” by Margaret Ruthven Lang have never been recorded. (Thanks to Sharon Shafer for giving me a substantial collection of scores with music by female composers!) “Cradle song” by Gustav Holst is a rare example of a lullaby in a fast tempo. After that is Britten’s “That yongë child,” from the Ceremony of Carols. This past June in Spain, I heard my first ever nightingale, who gave me a 13-minute concert that I savored and recorded. After that, the idea that the nightingale’s song pales in comparison to Mary’s lullaby is particularly meaningful. Christmas texts follow.
Sure on this shining night
Of starmade shadows round,
Kindness must watch for me
This side the ground.
The late year lies down the north.
All is healed, all is health.
High summer holds the earth.
Hearts all whole.
Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder
Wandering far alone
Of shadows on the stars.
- James Agee (1909-1955), excerpt from “Description of Elysium”
Silent Night (Dr. Park)
Old English lullaby
My dear moder when time it be, thou take me up on loft
And sette me upon thy knee and handell me full soft.
And in thine arm thou hill me warm and keepe night and day.
If that I wepe and may not slepe thou sing bye-bye lullay, lullay, lullay.
- anon. 15th century
Christmas lullaby
“Sleep, baby, sleep!” The Mother sings: Heaven’s angels kneel and fold their wings.
With swathes of scented hay, thy bed by Mary’s hand at eve was laid.
At midnight came the shepherds, they whom seraphs wakened by the way.
And three kings from the East afar, ere dawn, came guided by thy star. Sleep!
But thou who liest, liest slumbering there, art King of kings, earth, ocean, air.
Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds sing. Through Heaven, through earth, Hosannas ring.
- John Addington Symonds (1840-1893)
Cradle Song
Sweet dreams, form a shade o’er my lovely infant’s head;
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams by happy, silent, moony beams.
Sweet sleep, with soft down weave thy brows an infant crown.
Sweet sleep, Angel mild, hover o’er my happy child.
Sweet smiles, in the night hover over my delight;
Sweet smiles, Mother’s smile all the live long night beguile.
Sweet moans, dovelike sighs, chase not slumber from thine eyes.
Sweet moan, sweeter smile, all the dovelike moans beguile.
- William Blake (1757–1827)
That yongë child, when it gan wepe,
With song she lulled him asleep,
That was so sweet a melody,
It passed alle minstrelsy.
The nightingalë sang also,
Her song is course and nought thereto.
Whoso attendeth to her song,
And leaveth the first, Then doth he wrong.
- anon. 14th century
SOCIETY
The next set is Society, the way that Christmastide affects us. “Carol of the birds” includes a “redbird” or cardinal, which is an American bird (most of the birds we sing about, like nightingales, are European). Next is the somber “The oxen,” in the voice of someone who wants and needs to believe despite what the world says. And then we have “The monkey’s carol” by Stanford, mostly known for his church music. Upon first read, I thought it might be a social justice parable beckoning us to remember the poor (not to mention musicians who perform on the holidays), despite a cringey hint of colonialist stereotypes. From the late 18th century through the mid-20th century, organ grinders were generally despised and mocked for annoying people rather than entertaining, and they were indeed often accompanied by a capuchin monkey (native to Panama and Colombia) trained to do tricks and collect coins. After living with this song, I have to concede that it really is nothing more than a performance by a drama queen of a monkey with a sob story designed to get us to empty our pockets of treats (much like my cat who tilts his head for maximum cuteness and pity when begging for table scraps). Society texts follow.
Carol of the Birds
Oh a many a bird did wake and fly (Curoo, curoo, curoo)
To the manger bed with a wandering cry on Christmas Day in the morning.
The lark, the dove, the redbird came (Curoo, curoo, curoo)
And worshipped there in Jesus’ name on Christmas Day in the morning.
The owl was there, his eyes so wide (Curoo, curoo, curoo)
As he did sit at sweet Mary’s side on Christmas Day in the morning.
The shepherd knelt upon the hay (Curoo, curoo, curoo)
As angels sang the night away, and God proclaimed the holy day. (Curoo, curoo, curoo)
- John Jacob Niles
The oxen
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.
We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.
So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
“Come; see the oxen kneel,
In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,”
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.
- Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)
The monkey’s carol
Kind Christian souls who pass me by
On business intent,
I pray you think on such as I
Who pine in banishment.
I wear a little coat of red,
A little bonnet on my head.
Kind gentles, throw a coin to me,
And God reward your charity.
My master grinds the music out
To cheer the sullen street;
The children gather round about
And dance with joyous feet.
Have pity on the poor old man
And give him pennies all who can;
Have pity on his monkey too,
And God be pitiful to you.
Once long ago my heart was light
Amongst my brethren in the south,
Fulfilled with joy I slept at night
The taste of mangoes in my mouth.
But now I go from door to door.
Have pity, gentles, on the poor.
My master is both weak and old,
And I am trembling in the cold.
Your kitchens have a fragrant scent
With pies and puddings on each side,
I wish you all much merriment
And peace and love this Christmastide.
If you have nuts or fruit for me
God will reward your charity;
For if you give the poor their share
God will not leave your platters bare.
- Winifred M. Letts (1882-1972)
EPIPHANY
The season of Epiphany, Christ’s manifestation, is associated with the Star of Bethlehem, a time of increasing light and longer days, and the visit of the Kings (Sages, Wise Men, Seers), who heard of the birth of a king and brought all their royalty to admire this child of humble means born to a carpenter and his wife. “Three Kings” may be familiar from the choral version; the Epiphany chorale “How brightly shines the morning star” is heard in the piano part. Next, we have the Huron carol, with its complex history. The melody is based on a French folk song, and the Wyandot-language lyrics were written around 1642 by the missionary Jean de Brébeuf in the Canadian territory. The original Wyandot words (I urge you to read them on the Wikipedia page) contain beautiful imagery which has almost nothing in common with the well-known 1926 English version heard today, written by Jesse Edgar Middleton. I love these words, a localized retelling of the familiar story, but I also must acknowledge how Christianity has been weaponized against native people worldwide throughout history. I hope to honor those who accepted freely and pause in remembrance of those who did not. “The birds” is a bit of a stretch for the season of Epiphany, but it’s one of my favorite things to sing. We end with a rousing tune from the Sacred Harp. Several tunes are associated with Heber’s poem “Brightest and best,” which has been tweaked and altered substantially in different versions, but this was probably the first tune used in America that sets part of the poem (verses 2 and 3) alongside stanzas whose author we don’t know. Although the tune is in some hymnals, I haven’t yet met anyone who knows it. Epiphany texts follow. Thank you for coming!
Three Kings
Three Kings from Persian lands afar
To Jordan follow the pointing star:
And this the quest of the travelers three,
Where the newborn King of the Jews may be.
Full royal gifts they bear for the King;
Gold, incense, myrrh are their offering.
The star shines out with a steadfast ray;
The kings to Bethlehem make their way,
And there in worship they bend the knee,
As Mary’s child in her lap they see;
Their royal gifts they show to the King;
Gold, incense, myrrh are their offering.
Thou child of man, lo, to Bethlehem
The Kings are travelling, travel with them!
The star of mercy, the star of grace,
Shall lead thy heart to its resting place.
Gold, incense, myrrh thou canst not bring;
Offer thy heart to the infant King.
- Peter Cornelius, trans. H. N. Bate (1871-1941)
Huron Carol
’Twas in the moon of wintertime, when all the birds had fled
That mighty Gitchi Manitou (Great Spirit) sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim, and wandering hunters heard the hymn:
“Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.”
Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found,
A ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round;
But as the hunter braves drew nigh the angel song rang loud and high:
“Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.”
The earliest moon of wintertime is not so round and fair
As was the ring of glory on the helpless infant there.
The chiefs from far before him knelt with gifts of fox and beaver pelt.
“Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.”
O children of the forest free, O sons of Manitou,
The Holy Child of earth and heaven is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant boy who brings you beauty, peace and joy.
“Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.”
- Jesse Edgar Middleton (1872-1960)
The Birds
When Jesus Christ was four years old, the angels brought him toys of gold,
Which no man ever had bought or sold.
And yet with these he would not play. He made him small fowl out of clay,
And blessed them till they flew away: Tu creasti, Domine.
Jesus Christ, thou child so wise, bless mine hands and fill mine eyes,
And bring my soul to Paradise.
- Hilaire Belloc (1870–1953)
The Shepherd’s Star
Hail the blest morn, see the great Mediator,
Down from the regions of glory descend!
Shepherds, go worship the babe in the manger,
Lo, for his guard the bright angels attend.
Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining;
Low lies his bed with the beasts of the stall;
Angels adore him, in slumbers reclining,
Wise men and shepherds before him do fall.
Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion,
Odors of Eden and offerings divine?
Gems from the mountain, and pearls from the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?
Vainly we offer each ample oblation;
Vainly with gold we his favor secure;
Richer by far is the heart’s adoration;
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.
Low at his feet we in humble prostration,
Lose all our sorrow and trouble and strife;
There we receive his divine consolation,
Flowing afresh from the fountain of life.
He is our friend in the midst of temptation,
Faithful supporter, whose love cannot fail;
Rock of our refuge, and hope of salvation,
Light to direct us through death’s gloomy vale.
Star of the morning, thy brightness, declining,
Shortly must fade when the sun doth arise:
Beaming refulgent, his glory eternal
Shines on the children of love in the skies.
- Anon., with verses 2 & 3 by Reginald Heber (1783-1826), altered