516. Makers' Psalm

I'm sure I've covered this ground before, but this hymn wanted to come out, so I let it. I have no particular tune in mind at present. The art is "God the Father" by Jacob Herreyns I (1643-1732).

God, who with might and skill
The earth and heavens shaped,
And having rested, still
Would see it richly draped,
Let now Your gracious eye
On our endeavors rest;
As we frail powers try,
Let what we make be blest.

Our humble makings trace
The beauty You have wrought,
An impulse that our race
Has from Your image caught.
What model we may choose,
What medium or form,
O Word, therein infuse
Yourself as source and norm.

In music's liquid strain,
In fiber's warp and weft,
In panel's polished grain,
In brushstroke bold and deft,
As master Maker, show
Yourself in all our skill.
Our tribute feel and know;
Our lives with wonder fill.

515. Autumn Psalm

It's out of season, I know; but I've pushed out a hymn for each of the other seasons of the year, so I might as well complete the cycle. After many years of doing this kind of thing, I still find it ironic that, musician and hymn-tune maven that I am, I rarely have a tune in mind when I write a hymn. This hymn is one of the exceptions. I've been thinking a lot about Orlando Gibbons' (d. 1625) tune SONG 20 lately, so here's a chance to use it.

Oh, golden harvest hour
When, our reward in view,
We labor with redoubled pow'r
And Satan's host subdue!

Clap, hills, your tinted hands!
Sing, valleys! Skip, you fields!
Return to God, you weary lands,
With full and fruited yields!

Rejoice, all you who toil;
Dispose your limbs for rest.
The vintage kept in silent soil
Is strongest, richest, best.

Oh, hour of golden peace,
When all perfected, done,
We reap the hour of blest release
And kiss the risen Son!

514. 'Indeed' Hymn

Lest I let an entire calendar month elapse without posting anything on my blog – and I have so much to discuss when time permits – here's what I suppose could be categorized as an Easter hymn. Its working title was "This Is the Day" but it was the "indeed" in the first line that really revved its engine. The art, which I appropriated without the express endorsement of the image's owner, is "Christ triumphing over Death and Sin" by Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640) per Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license. I don't know what tune will go with it at this writing; I probably have years to make that call.

This is indeed the day the Lord has made,
Whatever sort it be; for chill and shade,
As well as cheer and light, are His to give;
We all the same rejoice, who in Him live.

Christ rose indeed, and lives no more to die,
And breaks death's sting and bond for all thereby:
Though we may die, we yet shall live again,
Both soul and body cleansed of every stain.

We have indeed for freedom been set free,
The Lord's bond-slaves with single heart to be:
Set free from sin by freely offered blood,
We serve as heirs, possessed of every good.

It is indeed a new song that we sing,
Whatever be its date; for that new thing
The Lord does, who exchanges life for death,
Puts melody and lyric to our breath.

It is indeed a joyful heart we raise,
Whatever the incipit of our praise;
For though we laugh or weep, or live or die,
We are in Christ, our God with God on high.

Thus we indeed rejoice and serve and sing
And live and hope and faithful witness bring
To Him who fullest measure gladly gave,
And rising, strode to heaven, strong to save.

513. Spring Psalm

It was a balmy -27 degrees Fahrenheit this morning in my little town in northwest Minnesota. I heard someone mention the awful words "32 below" but I'm not sure how early they got up or how far they traveled from out of town. So it is with a yearning heart that I set about writing the third installment in my set of seasonal psalms. I have no particular tune in mind, which is usual for me but not a problem, because if I can't find an existing tune that fits it, I can certainly write one. But for now, without any musical association, I offer the following for review and comment.

For all things green and tender,
All youthful, fresh and new,
A hymn of praise we render
To God, whose word is true:
Who would not leave Your Favored
Forgotten in the grave,
His off'ring having savored
Our stricken world to save.

For all things warm, rich scented,
With bud and bloom ablaze,
Let anthems be presented
Through springtime's thriving days:
Come perilous temptation,
Come cross and passion's hour,
The Lord brings forth salvation
With dauntless joy and power.

Rise, all things lively, breathing
The Spirit of the Lord;
Rise up, with vigor seething,
Profess with one accord:
Christ is our resurrection;
To know Him is to live,
To drink of His perfection
And fruitful service give.