Going into the "Commitment, Discipleship" section, 1085 is "Hope of the world" by Georgia Harkness (†1974), set to the 16th century tune DONNE SECOURS; in LSB 690 it's set to EIRENE. I previously commented on it here. Was I too hard on it? I dunno. I'll let it go by with 0 tacks.
As the "Praise, Thanksgiving" section begins, 1087 is "Glory to God, whose goodness shines," words and music by Paul M. Vasile (b. 1976), based on the Gloria Patri ("Glory be to the Father..."). It interpolates a few lines of description of each Person of the Trinity into the text, to fill out the meter, which I suppose is in keeping with the tradition of liturgical paraphrases. It does so in a pop-musicky style, accompaniment omitted. And its second stanza doesn't do anything except repeat "World without end, without end. Amen" three times before returning to the refrain "As it was in the beginning," etc., which makes stanza 2 redundant. It's a little slip of a thing that doesn't do what a hymn is designed to do. It should probably be part of a liturgical setting, or at least a section set aside for optional service music, and though the next couple of hymns deliver the fleeting impression that that's what this section is, it isn't. 2 tacks.
1088 is "Hallelujah," or rather, "Halle, hallelujah," just those words over and over, set to a traditional Syrian tune. It's again a tiny little scrap of a thing, even more so than the previous number, hardly of any use as a hymn but maybe as an alternative liturgical setting. For being in the wrong part of the book and omitting the accompaniment, 2 tacks.
1089 is "Holy, holy, holy," an Argentine traditional setting of the Sanctus and Benedictus, in both Spanish and English. Which would be great if this was a Spanish-language hymnal, but it's not. And the presumption that it will be sung in Spanish is underscored by the way the English lyrics don't even try to fit under the notes. If the message to English-speaking Lutherans is that they should try to forget about worshiping in their own language, message received. 1 tack.
1091 is "Hallelujah! Sing praise to your Creator," the rare hymn in this book that capitalizes divine titles. It's by Tilly Lubis (†2002), based on Psalm 148, translated by David Diephouse (b. 1947), and set to a Batak (i.e. Indonesian) melody arranged by H.A. Pandopo (b. 1935), who (Hymnary.org informs me) is also known as Hermanus Arie van Dop, a Dutch missionary to Indonesia. It has a pretty distinctive cadence to it that might take a bit of adjustment for Grandma and Grandpa Smurf & Co. The presumption of part singing is, again, well-marked, with an "Oh" between phrases for the tenor and bass parts only. What I said about a town-gown church may apply here; but just as likely, if not more likely, this will just be a choir piece. Therefore, 1 tack.
1092 is "Thank you, Lord," a "traditional" hymn in what I'd call the "round the campfire" style of spiritual folk song. Stanza 1 is all repeats of the first line, concluding, "I just want to thank you, Lord" – and those of us who have remained conscious during the sorts of civic-religion prayer that usually starts with "Father God" know just how much the words "I just want" are worth. The same refrain follows three more stanzas, which, respectively, comprise threefold repetitions of "Been so good," "Been my friend" and "Love you, Lord." It gives so little in proportion to the time it takes up that the hot dogs had better be roasted by the time it's over. And until you get to "been my friend," it isn't clear who has "been so good." You might think you're singing about yourself there. Awkward! 4 tacks.
1093 is "In deep, unbounded darkness" by "anonymous, China," translated by Francis P. Jones (†1975) and adapted by Mary Louise Bringle (b. 1953), set to DIVINUM MYSTERIUM (cf. "Of the Father's love begotten") and notated in the manner of plainchant, with stemless noteheads. In my opinion, that's a solid strategy for getting Lutheran laypeople to take one look and say, "Nuh-uh." And it's uncalled-for, what with the modern-notation settings of this tune that are amply available. And really, if you want to achieve that effect, why stop there? Why not go all the way and use Gregorian notation and a C-clef? Then you can make even a well-trained organist sweat. As for the lyrics, they take until stanza 3 to mention Christ, but other than that I have no beef with it. For the needlessly intimidating plainchant layout and omitting the accompaniment, 2 tacks.
1095 is "How shall I sing that majesty" by John Mason (†1694), set to Kenneth Naylor's (†1991) tune COE FEN. Mason's poem is a personal appeal to be inducted into the celestial choir, and to be shone upon by God. It concludes with a whole stanza of superlatives addressed to God. To me, it seems more like a verse for private devotions than congregational worship, though I don't object to such artifacts being in a book of hymns. I'd be more thrilled with it if it said anything particularly about Christ. For omitting the accompaniment, 1 tack.
1096 is "Joyful is the dark" by Wren (sigh), set to Young's tune LINDNER. This time (unlike 1093) the darkness never breaks; all five stanzas start with the same line. In the first stanza, Wren characterizes the hiddenness of God, even revealed as "Word-in-flesh," as an unnameable "rolling cloud of night." Stanza 2 moves on to the Holy Spirit, hovering over the deep with "plumage black and bright" – a raven, not a dove. Where is he getting this stuff? St. 3 moves on to the "shadowed stable floor" over which "angels flicker," hailing the birth of Jesus. St. 4 finds us in the cool tomb, claiming that there was no dread and gloom while Jesus slumbered there (a claim the apostles might contend with). The final stanza depicts the glory of God as a "roaring, looming thundercloud" which, strangely enough, is actually biblical. Nevertheless, I feel, Wren strains to keep his unifying theme together, to the detriment of telling the story. For that and for again omitting the accompaniment, 2 tacks.
1097 is "Ten thousand reasons" (first line: "Bless the Lord, O my soul"), words and music by Mark Redman (b. 1974) and Jonas Myrin (b. 1982). It's a contemporary worship ditty that vaguely threatens (in the first line of its refrain) to be a paraphrase of either Psalm 103 or 104, but immediately backs down. For the most part. A couple of phrases evoke deep cuts within Psalm 103, like "slow to anger" in st. 2. I'd be a bigger fan of the genre if, just once in a while, its writers would make a real effort to actually paraphrase what they feint at paraphrasing. With the accompaniment hidden (except for a brief instrumental cue during the long rest leading back to the refrain), it's also not very helpful unless you've splashed out big bucks on the accompaniment edition. I'd call it more of a solo or a rehearsed-ensemble number than a congregational hymn. 3 tacks.
1098 is "Who is like our God," anonymous words and music, in Spanish and English (translated by Scheer) and supposedly based on Exodus 15. If by that, the credit line means the Song of Moses, it's a pretty skimpy paraphrase, though you can find the raw material for most of its lyrics there. Nevertheless, it devotes a line to dancing and tambourines, which is stage business between the songs of Moses and Miriam. And where is the pronunciation guide when we need one to explain how to sing "Jeho-" as one syllable? For gratuitous Spanishness and omitting the accompaniment, 2 tacks.
1100 is "O beauty ever ancient" by Shirley Erena Murray (†2020), set to Alfred V. Fedak's (b. 1953) tune ANCIENT BEAUTY. Besides the word beauty, this hymn also addresses its addressee as "divine and Holy Presence" and also mentions the "beauty of the Spirit," each of its four stanzas culminating in the refrain, "In gratitude, in worship, my being sings to you." It's nice that Murray locates beauty in so many aspects of creation, but the way she identifies that beauty with God may also be a topic for doctrinal discussion. Beauty in darkness and light; beauty in movement and stillness, "in lovely form of face" – it's almost as if Murray is choosing her own means of grace and bypassing ones that God established. Am I out to lunch? I ought to be by now. 2 tacks (including one for omitting the accompaniment).
So, we're finally done with that book. That Book. Put a fork in it. Put a stake through it. Put another 31 tacks in it, making the grand total 412 tacks in just 200 hymns. And that, fellow sufferers, is a tackiness rate of 206 percent. Hey! It actually came down a point from its rolling peak at the end of Installment 120. Great job! Of course, you know what this means. It means that if you're into tackiness on holy ground, this is the book for you, with enough tackiness to saturate a book twice its length.
I said, way back, that there was maybe one hymn in this entire book that I wouldn't pitch out and gladly. That was a slight exaggeration. I actually liked a few of the hymns in this book. But after examining it in minute detail, my general impression of All Creation Sings is that it's not a product of people who understand or care what Lutheranism is or what hymns are; far less should they be selecting hymns for Lutheran worship. There are even a number of songs in this book that I wouldn't even call Christian. Let my convictions, knowledge and experience as a trained theologian, musician, and lifelong student, conoisseur and writer of hymns (words and music) count for whatever they may, heed my warning. Stick this book in your church's pews at your own risk.
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