Arthur S. Sullivan

Yes, the same Arthur Seymour Sullivan (1842-1900) who wrote such operettas as H. M. S. Pinafore and The Pirates of Penzance together with W. S. Gilbert, also wrote a substantial body of church music without any help from Gilbert. Cyberhymnal credits Sullivan with 32 hymn tunes. Besides holding up the musical half of the Gilbert-and-Sullivan musical-comedy team, Sir Arthur was also a church organist, professor and principal of a music school, conductor of oratorio societies and proms concerts, and the composer of serious operas and oratorios. Does it surprise you that no fewer than 17 of his hymn tunes have found their way into Lutheran service books? The real surprise is that, knowingly or not, you have probably sung music by Sir Arthur Sullivan in your church. It remains to be seen whether this is a good thing.

Angel Voices
It is a small step from 19th-century comic opera to this tune which, coincidentally, appeared as Hymn 240 of two different American Lutheran hymnals - both times paired with Francis Pott's hymn, "Angel voices ever singing." This interesting text praises God for creating the very music with which we praise Him, thereby assuring us that our songs of praise please Him. It contains some very worthy lines, such as: "Can it be that Thou regardest / Songs of sinful man? / Can we know that Thou art near us, / And wilt hear us? / Yea, we can!" The tune, however - charming as it may be in its dated fashion - is simply not of a churchly character.

Bishopgarth
A couple of American Lutheran hymnals paired this tune with the Harvest & Thanksgiving hymn, "To Thee, O Lord, our hearts we raise" - the one whose first stanza ends with the memorable lines: "The valleys stand so thick with corn / That even they are singing." Another hymn that has gone to this tune is "Who trusts in God, a strong abode." Both hymns have seen better tunes than this stately but bland melody, which reminds me of an alma mater.

Coena Domini
John Mason Neale's translation of a 7th-century Latin Communion hymn, "Draw nigh and take the body of the Lord," is converted into two-line stanzas to fit this tune in no fewer than three American Lutheran hymnals. This operation is certainly less brutal than cutting the five-phrase tune Old 124th to fit the four-line version of Neale's hymn. My only concern about Coena Domini is that shorter stanzas mean more musical repetition which, with this tune, may soon have a stupefying effect on the congregation.

Constance
You may recall that Gauntlett also had a tune called Constance, which I really liked. I don't really like the Constance of Sullivan, which appeared beside Bishopgarth in the 1917/18 Common Service Book as an alternate tune to "Who trusts in God, a strong abode." As a serenade for Irish tenor and piano, this would be a fine piece. As a hymn tune it is less practical than Bishopgarth; and as a tune for this particular hymn, less to my taste than the chorale Was mein Gott will.

I keep referring to "two American Lutheran Hymnals." One of them is the aforenamed Common Service Book; the other, its 1958 successor Service Book and Hymnal. So far, the tunes I have discussed appear in no other Anglophone Lutheran hymnals, with one exception: Coena Domini was also in SBH's successor, the Lutheran Book of Worship of 1978. I thought this might be worth noting as we assess the coincidence between the use of Sullivan's tunes and the pietistic, American-evangelicalism-tinged strain of Lutheranism represented by CSB, SBH, LBW, and now Evangelical Lutheran Worship. As I continue this post, I will point out further evidence of this, ahem, coincidence.

Falfield
CSB and SBH both pair this tune with H. F. Lyte's hymn on Christian obedience, "Jesus, I my cross have taken." The latter hymnal offers as an alternate tune G. T. Alexis's Seraphim, which is practically impossible to distinguish from Falfield in a blind taste test. CSB further sets "Savior, sprinkle many nations" to this tune. The Sullivan one, I mean. This mission text by Arthur C. Coxe came under fire for false doctrine in the 1920s, with the result that several replacement-stanzas were published in Missouri Synod hymnals from that time on.

Falfield brings out the native character of both hymns with a clarity from which LCMS congregations are fortunately spared by such tunes as O du Liebe and Hyfrydol. Perhaps if the selection of hymns in Lutheran books was subjected to a more rigorous discipline, such hymns would be dropped altogether, and there would be no need to quibble over which tune(s) should go with them.

Fortunatus
Since the 1970's, Carl Schalk's tune Fortunatus New has become "the" vehicle for Venantius Fortunatus's Passion hymn "Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle." I mention this only to put that tune's title in context as the successor to this tune by Arthur Sullivan. CSB, SBH, and LBW all paired this tune with the same medieval author's Easter hymn, "Welcome, happy morning, age to age shall say." There seem to be lots of tunes contending for this hymn, from Sei du mir gegruesset to Prince Rupert. I hate to admit it, non-Sullivan fan that I am, but his Fortunatus is as fortunate as any of them.

Golden Sheaves
The old Lutheran Hymnary - which is no more innocent of pietistic tendencies than was CSB or SBH - used this tune twice: for Nicholas von Zinzendorf's fine Reformation hymn, "We hail Thee, Lord, Thy Church's rock"; and for the aforementioned Harvest & Thanksgiving hymn, "To Thee, O Lord, our hearts we raise." Some hymns seem to gravitate toward Sullivan's music somehow. I think Dix's harvest hymn is the one that gives this tune its name. Perhaps this is as close to "chorale" as a light-opera composer can manage; it sounds vaguely like the national anthem of some high-altitude country. But as ear-pleasing and well-crafted as it is, it just doesn't sound churchly.

Hanford
Sullivan shows an uncharacteristic economy of material in this tune. Nevertheless, it sounds less like a churchly hymn than a patriotic chorus from a satirical, Victorian operetta. Melodramatic and dull at the same time (a most ingenious paradox!), this tune paired up with two hymns in CSB: "My God and Father, while I stray" and "Through good report and evil, Lord."

Heaven Is My Home
The archpietistic Concordia Hymnal (Augsburg Publishing House, 1932) paired this tune with Philip Bliss's horrid, camp-meetingly, decisionistic anthem "Almost persuaded now to believe." Far more significant, however, is this tune's widespread use with Thomas Taylor's deathbed spiritual "I'm but a stranger here," whose stanzas all end in the words of the tune's title. (This tune is sometimes called St. Edmund; but then, so is Charles Steggall's tune St. Edward.) Smacking of spartan little Reformed churches and old-time evangelism crusades, this tune is thoroughly repellent to every Lutheran sensibility - and it is married to a text that carries every Pietistic stereotype to a nauseating extreme.

Though I am sure I will lose as many friends for what I have to say about "I'm but a stranger here" as I did when I trashed "There is a fountain filled with blood," I can't help saying it: Every appearance of this hymn in an Anglophone Lutheran hymnal is a blow by the Anglophone against whatever is Lutheran in that book and in the church that uses it. In its smarmy sentimentality, in its unconsciousness of personal sin, and in its anti-incarnational renunciation of the world, it has much that should ingratiate it to quietists, anabaptists, sectarians, and people who are too depressed to live an active Christian life; but it says nothing to help people who struggle to live each day with one foot in this world and the other in the kingdom of God. It does not recognize that God's work is good, in this world too; or that my own sin is part of the evil that fills this world with so much misery.

The hymn conjures impossible, unreal imagery of an altogether worthless present world, through which the individual Christian floats like a soap bubble, disengaged, unaffected, and contributing nothing to the way the world is. Perhaps worst of all, it depicts the Christian hope as a kind of ascension or translation to a spiritual plane of existence, rather than a resurrection and restoration of all things, body and spirit made perfect together. It is dualistic and perhaps even docetistic, with a vaguely impersonal Savior and a Christian self that only seems to be here, but really isn't. In the final analysis, it is simply a brimming vat of self-indulgent shmaltz with no spiritually redeeming value. And it deserves the tune named after its too-oft-repeated refrain. I hope, however, that Anglophone Lutheranism does not yet deserve this hymn.

Homeland
SBH paired this tune with "For thee, O dear, dear country" - a cento from St. Bernard of Clairvaux's hymn "Of Contempt for the World," for which other hymnals favored tunes such as Ewing and Bona Patria. Two other hymnals used it for H. R. Haweis's hymn "The Homeland! O the Homeland!" Take two guesses as to where the tune got its title. The tune is quite consistent with Sullivan's signature style; in fact, one finds in his hymn tunes a remarkable, perhaps even disturbing homogeneity. It is no more inspired than his average work, and possibly slightly less; and the textual similarity between "The Homeland" and "I'm but a stranger here" suggests that this consistency is no accident. It really seems Sullivan's spirituality leaned toward hymns like this, in which we gaze continually on "the Homeland" (heaven) with eyes "wet with tears." I strongly believe that keeping such hymns around in today's church can only harm service attendance, when readily available drugs can achieve the same result.

Lux eoi
One minor pietistic hymnal of the early 20th century set the hymn "When upon the raging waters" to this tune, whose title means "Light of Dawn." The more potent combination of CSB and SBH, however, pairs this hymn with Christopher Wordsworth's Easter hymn, "Alleluia! Alleluia! Hearts to heaven and voices raise." This hymn brings at least two other tunes to mind, each ahead of Lux eoi in priority: In Babilone, and Beethoven's Hymn to Joy. It's not that Sullivan's tune lacks interest or originality; only, most of it is concentrated in the last two phrases, by which time you, too, will have been reminded of one or two better tunes.

Saints of God
The next-to-last phrase of this tune demonstrates a rhetorical device that pervades Sullivan's works: the same pattern of notes repeated twice in one phrase. Look up and down this list of Sullivan's hymn tunes and you will see the same effect in quite a few second-last or third-last phrases. I mention this mainly to stall before admitting that the Evangelical Lutheran Hymn-Book, the Anglophone hymnal that preceded The Lutheran Hymnal in the Missouri Synod, features this tune along with the Pentecost hymn, "Awake, Thou Spirit who didst fire." I don't have an opinion on the editorial position of ELHB, but I seem to recall one of my LCMS colleagues discussing a potential paper on whether or not a pietistic Trojan horse entered the Missouri Synod with that book. ELHB does have several of Sullivan's tunes in it, including Homeland as well as this mediocre bit of Romantic blandness.

Shepherd
ELHB again pairs this tune with "There is a land of pure delight," Isaac Watts's hymn about facing eternal life without fear. Watts, that master of metrical Psalm paraphrases and moralistic rhymes, may have been showing faithful adherence to a single (in this case, Old Testament) point of view; but I can't help feeling provoked by this hymn's lack of mention of Christ. Death and the life everlasting are presented as abstract doctrine, clothed in landscape imagery and an analogy to Moses viewing the promised land from across the Jordan, but with no reference to their context in Christ and the cross. How appropriate to pair that pale, spiritually useless text with this tritely theatrical little tune! And then, with one quick motion, to throw them as far from your hymnal as possible! By the way, William B. Bradbury's tune Bradbury is also sometimes called Shepherd. I will have uncivil things to say about that tune in due course.

St. Francis
The contemporary composer Giuseppe Moschetti is also responsible for a horrid tune by this name, but we don't speak of that. We speak, instead, of one of Sir Arthur's more attractive creations, which CSB set to "Father of heaven, who hast created all." Other tunes associated with this hymn, including John Dahle's St. Olaf and C. P. E. Bach's Apolutrosis, provide ample evidence that this hymn does not easily lend itself to musical setting, thanks to its unusual metre: 10.6.10.6.8.8.4. All three tunes have their weakness, Sullivan's no more than the others. None of them are as familiar as they should be, considering that this hymn - a fine infant-baptism text by Alfred Knapp - should be printed in every Lutheran hymnal and sung in every Lutheran church.

St. Gertrude
Here is the tune that keeps Arthur Sullivan's foot in the door of every Anglophone Protestant church, Lutheran included. One hymnal paired it with the text "Christian Leaguers, rally!" But most likely you know it as the tune to "Onward, Christian soldiers." It really marches along, aided in some hymnals by an "oom-pah, oom-pah" bass line. Author Sabine Baring-Gould originally intended it as a children's processional hymn, but whole congregations have appropriated it in the service of a militaristic vision of the church. Its "Christian warfare" rhetoric musters the troops against unnamed foes in a manner that many parishioners find exciting, while an impartial observer is more apt to find it funny - like a theatrical sounding, musical game, tinged with a hint of polka. To be sure, there is some merit in Baring-Gould's text, which repeats many of God's brightest promises and most urgent admonitions to the church; and it probably owes much of its popularity to the highly crafted and inspired work of Sullivan. I just wish I didn't feel such a childish fool while singing it!

St. Kevin
Of the numerous tunes paired with the John of Damacus/J. M. Neale Easter classic "Come, ye faithful, raise the strain," the chief contender these days seems to be Gaudeamus pariter, followed by this tune and the embarrassingly-titled Schwing dich auf. "Tied for second" isn't bad if there is room for an alternate tune or two. Favored by three hymnals, including CSB and SBH (the latter offering a Ludwig Lindeman tune called Soerg, o kjaere Fader as an alternate), St. Kevin is surely one of Sullivan's more successful efforts. Unusually churchly, well-written, catchy, and as joyful as this hymn needs to be, it would be welcome in my church any time.

Valete
Another of Sullivan's finest contributions to hymnody, this tune was paired with "Arm these Thy soldiers, mighty Lord" in ELHB. Wordsworth's confirmation hymn begs comparison to "Onward, Christian soldiers," another hymn for youth full of military rhetoric. This is a far better hymn, however, with specific and beneficial prayers addressed to each Person of the Trinity, and such spiritually mature sentiments as: "O grant us so to use Thy grace / That we may see Thy glorious face." I like both the text and the tune, and I wish that, together or separately, they might become more widely familiar.

Conclusion: Sullivan was, at bottom, a theatrical composer whose working habits demanded a certain proficiency in composing, rapidly and continuously, music of a consistent style and quality within a limited range of rhetorical effect. The impact on his church music is a tendency toward tedious and even mechanical sameness, combined with a type of sentimentality that seems more at home on the stage than in the pew. Now and then he proves me wrong with a work of hymn-tune art that deserves to be studied, enjoyed, and used to the glory of God. Also, Sullivan's spirituality, or theology, were apparently of a type that only occasionally or accidentally overlaps with Lutheran piety. He seems to have leaned toward pietistic renunciation texts and those with an affinity for pomp and circumstance. Even some of his best and most popular work is tainted by association with infantile and triumphalistic material (e.g. "Onward, Christian soldiers"). But a study of hymns touched by Sullivan's music also leads to the discovery of some excellent hymns whose words and music are unjustly neglected.

To put it crassly: Down with "Onward, Christian soldiers" and "I'm but a stranger here"; and up with "Arm these Thy soldiers" and "Father of heaven, who hast created all." Down with Heaven Is My Home; up with St. Francis, St. Kevin, and Valete!

Jury Duty

This past Monday and Tuesday, I had jury duty in the wonderful city of St. Louis.

It started at 8:00 sharp at the Civil Courts building downtown. The weather had suddenly turned bitterly cold that morning, so the five-block walk from the free parking garage to the courthouse was a bit nippy, especially given my inability to find either of the two (2) winter hats I bought just last year.

Once inside the front doors, I went through "airport security" (metal detectors, X-rays, etc.) before being admitted to the jurors' holding tank. This was a huge room full of bolted-down chairs, taking up the whole north end of the building on the ground floor, plus a similar room two flights up called the "mezzanine," plus two upstairs "lounges" with vending machines, tables, and chairs - one for smokers and the other for non-smokers.

I was directed to the mezzanine, where I sat down and began to read one of several books I had wisely brought along. After perusing the jurors' manual and watching an instructional video that covered the same material, I pretty much did nothing but read all day. My reading pleasure was only interrupted by the intercom, on which the courthouse staff periodically called out lists of numbers corresponding to the juror's ID badges. Those whose numbers were called - 30 or 40 at a time - were then taken somewhere else to be impaneled, questioned, and either dismissed from duty or sworn in as a jury.

My number never got called. I read all morning. They let us go out for lunch from 11:45 to 1:15 - I visited a nearby restaurant called Maurizio's, which serves an excellent anchovy pizza on a good, honest, doughy crust - then I came back and read some more, and listened all afternoon for my number to be called (it wasn't), until they dismissed us for the day.

The mezzanine went from standing-room-only to almost empty by the end of the first day. It was very quiet and relaxing. Only two thoughts crossed my mind all day: A) I must never play the lottery; and B) This wouldn't be a bad life, if it paid more than $12 per day.

The only other interesting thing that happened on Monday, besides my reading a whole novel, was my attempt to buy a pack of Starburst Fruit Chews from a vending machine that wouldn't take $1 bills (which I had just obtained for that purpose during my lunch break). The machine kept spitting out my bills and demanding exact change. Exasperated, I asked the 20 or so people in the lounge if anyone had change for a buck.

One guy offered me 50 cents. I really should do something about looking as stupid as I must have looked at that time. I was so staggered by the magnanimity of the offer that I was unable to come up with a sarcastic retort. Only the fact that my intended snack cost 80 cents saved me from considering the offer.

So I had to enter the smoking lounge - which was surprisingly like plunging into a tank full of toxic fumes - and use their snack machine to buy my second choice, Peanut M&Ms. It took me 24 hours to get the stench out of my lungs. I'm not talking about the smell of Peanut M&Ms.

Experiences like that - as well as the sight of the motorist ahead of me throwing his still-burning butt out his car window - continually remind me how little smokers are aware of what a filthy, filthy, filthy habit theirs is.

Tuesday I came back for a second day of prospective jurorness. I didn't have to arrive until 9:00 this time. No numbers were called all morning. It was quieter than ever; I read another half of a book. Sometime shortly after 11:00, they dismissed us for good - so I didn't even have to blow my day's pay on lunch! And that was it for jury duty.

I happened to mention my jury duty experience to some members of my church choir on Wednesday night. Turns out one of the choir members had jury duty at the same bat-time, same bat-channel. He even remembered seeing someone who looked "just like Robbie F." walking by on his way up to the mezzanine on Monday morning. I never saw him, though. His number got called, but he wasn't picked for the jury and that was it for him. So, it may be a big city, but it's a small world!

IMAGES: Various views of the Civil Courts building in St. Louis. What is the deal with that Greek temple/pagoda thing at the top of the building?

EDIT: A couple years after this, I was called up for jury duty again – same drill. On that occasion, my service as a prospective juror was even briefer. I heard my number called among 30 or 40 others. Our group gathered in a downstairs room where jury panels were sworn in. Instead of swearing us in, the court clerk told us they were releasing us from jury duty and asked us, as we departed through the prospective jurors' waiting room, not to tell anyone we were leaving. I didn't even finish a whole book that time!

Two Kiddie Movies

A week or so back, I saw the new Disney film Enchanted, starring Amy Adams as a fairytale/cartoon princess who, thanks to a wicked hag, finds herself in live-action "reality" in present-day New York City. It's an adorable, family-friendly comedy with a (more or less) talking chipmunk, a handsome prince who isn't very bright, a single-Dad divorce lawyer who becomes his romantic rival, Susan Sarandon cast totally against type (yeah, right) as the wicked witch-queen, several sparkling song-and-dance numbers (including one that features the talents of synchronized vermin), and a satisfying character arch in which the almost insufferably perky princess becomes so acclimated to "reality" that, when her knight in shining armor finally shows up, her confusion is really touching. The turning point, I believe, is when the prince hands her a Disneyesque musical cue and she drops it.

The cast is quite effective, and girl-power buffs should probably enjoy this movie - especially the ones that secretly harbor a frilly, taffeta dress in their closet. Fairy tale logic is confronted with the unromantic logic of the modern metro area and its politics, sexual and otherwise. The princess goes, armed with a sword, to save her man from a monster. And everyone lives happily ever after. Sarandon and Adams are joined by James Marsden (he of the face that can cut glass), Patrick Dempsey (Dr. McSomething or other, I can't keep the characters in Gray's Anatomy straight), Timothy Spall (veteran of both Harry Potter and A Series of Unfortunate Events), and Idina Menzel (late of Rent).

Tonight, I went to an altogether different kids' movie...a grown-up one. It was a sneak preview of The Golden Compass. This is a film based on the first book, originally titled The Northern Lights, of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. The word "sneak" probably doesn't apply, since I found out about it on the internet, and so did enough other people that I ended up standing in line for half an hour. I seriously questioned whether this was worth it, since my review of His Dark Materials was one of the most strongly-worded - I should say almost the only - predominantly negative review I ever wrote for The Book Trolley. That review stirred some memorable controversy, to judge by the positive and negative feedback I received for a long time afterward.

I had little confidence that I would enjoy this movie. But I was swayed to stay by three things: (1) fortifying myself with a free large popcorn and drink, courtesy of a coupon from the cinema franchise; (2) my recollection that the first book of the trilogy was actually quite good, only the ones that followed it didn't live up to its promise; and (3) the consoling realization that, as a fat stupid jerk, I would enjoy writing a bitchy review almost as much as a positive one.

As it turns out, it was an exceptional movie, with a magnificent cast and dazzling visuals to go with the exciting and fascinating storyline. Only two dark clouds overshadowed my enjoyment: my foreknowledge of what happens next, and the crappy song that accompanied the end titles.

In The Golden Compass, we find ourselves in a strange, parallel world where people's souls take visible form as talking, animal-like "daemons" that go with them everywhere. In this world, the Magisterium - something like the Spanish Inquisition with an infusion of Calvinist theology - rules most people with an iron hand. There are some free spirits and places of refuge for them - the Gyptians, a race of Gypsy-like boat people; the long-lived flying witches; and the scholars at Oxford University who have raised Lyra Belacqua from a baby.

Lyra herself is quite a free spirit, notwithstanding the daemon named Pen that can take the form of various animals according to its mood (adults' daemons are locked into one form from puberty onward). But Lyra's fun is interrupted early in the movie. It starts with a visit from her "Uncle" Asrael, who is defying the Magisterium in his research into the amazing "dust" that connects Lyra's world to countless parallel worlds. Then Lyra is swept away by the glamorous Mrs. Coulter, who turns out to be a monstrously cruel agent of the Magisterium and a key member of a conspiracy to perform a dastardly "operation" to separate children from their daemons. Upon escaping from Mrs. Coulter, Lyra follows a trail of adventure clear to the North Pole, encountering armored bears, merciless soldiers, quirky friends, and thrilling dangers.

The film has fierce battles, explosive escapes, sinister villains, gorgeous scenery, and moments of extreme creepiness and suspense. It has a gorgeous and magical gadget, a beautiful and inspiring friendship, a child of astonishing bravery, and a cast that includes Daniel Craig (late 007), Nicole Kidman, Derek Jacobi, Sam Elliott, Tom Courtenay, and the precocious Dakota Blue Richards as Lyra. Christopher Lee also puts in an absurdly brief appearance, considering the high billing he gets. Actors whose faces I recognized but couldn't put names to included Simon McBurney (the inquisitor-type who tries to poison Lord Asrael at the beginning of the movie), Jack Shepherd (the master of Lyra's college), Casino Royale's Eva Green (the witch Serafina Pekkala), and Jim Carter (the Gyptian king). Among the actors whose talents you may recognize in the voices of various daemons and bears are Ian McKellen, Ian McShane, Kathy Bates, Kristin Scott Thomas, and Freddie Highmore.

Henry J. Gauntlett

Henry John Gauntlett (1805-1876) was a lawyer, author, hymnal editor, organ designer, prolific composer, and virtuoso organist who wielded enormous influence in the world of English church music. He is credited with introducing electrical power to the organ, inventing the four-part style of hymn tunes, and having a hand in practically every development in organ design and every collection of hymns during the last fifty years of his life. The claim that Gauntlett wrote 10,000 hymns is probably highly exaggerated. Cyberhymnal lists 22 hymn tunes by Gauntlett, of which at least a dozen have turned up in Anglophone Lutheran hymnals:

Ascension Tide
The old Lutheran Hymnary chose this tune to go with the Ascension hymn "Thou art gone up on high." Perhaps because I once attended a church that used the old Hymnary, I tend to associate that text with this tune. That doesn't mean I particularly like it, though its pomp-and-circumstance flavor, reminiscent of commencement ceremonies, is ironically appropriate for the Ascension of our Lord. The accompaniment is vital, beginning with two unison phrases over an organ pedal point.

Constance
Not to be confused with the tune Constance by Arthur Sullivan (which goes with the text "Who trusts in God, a strong abode"), this is a truly marvelous little tune. I am amazed to find it in only one Lutheran hymn-book, set to a fine Easter-Eve text, "Lord Jesus, who, our souls to save." I can't say enough in favor of reintroducing this hymn, including Gauntlett's beautifully simple and well-structured tune.

Hereford
The wedding hymn "Lord, who at Cana's wedding feast," and Charles Wesley's hymn for All Saints' Day, "Come let us join our friends above," are both paired with this dignified tune. It begins with a phrase reminiscent of such classic chorales as O grosser Gott, and includes two or three very effective phrases, including a unison setting of the fifth phrase; but overall it is rather a let-down. It simply does not hold together in a memorable way.

Houghton
Australian Lutherans know this as the tune to a rare, Christ-centered stewardship hymn by John La Trobe, which opens with the words "O bring to the Lord your tribute of praise." Gauntlett's tune accents the joy and sturdiness of this text with rhetoric similar to St. Denio ("Immortal, invisible, God only wise"). I don't think it would cost much effort to teach this catchy hymn to the average congregation.

Irby
Though I have also found this tune paired with the hymn "Jesus, Brightness of the Father," it is most famously wedded to the Christmas carol, "Once in royal David's city." If Hopkins' memory largely rests upon Ellers, Monk's upon Eventide and Dykes' upon Nicaea, this is probably the single tune by which Gauntlett may be remembered after all his other accomplishments have perished.

Resurrection Hymn
This is Gauntlett's tune for the Easter hymn "Christ the Lord is risen today; Alleluia!" And a fine tune it is; unfortunately, there is an over-abundance of tunes that could serve the same hymn equally well, and several of them are far better-known. Perhaps the next time a contemporary hymn writer pens a hymn in the 7777 metre, with an Alleluia after each line, this tune will get its chance. It probably wouldn't hurt to transpose it down a step or two; I give it here in the key in which I found it.

St. Albinus
Once again, the Australian Lutherans diverge from the custom of their American brethren in pairing this tune with the Easter hymn, "Jesus lives! the victory's won" - which they also know according to an alternate translation, in an entirely different metre. Gauntlett's tune is worthy of the purpose, though I am more accustomed to singing this hymn to the chorale Jesus, meine Zuversicht. In my opinion, the two versions of this hymn are so different that you could put them side by side in a hymnal, and no one would complain.

St. Alphege
Nowadays, most Lutherans associate the Christmas hymn "A great and mighty wonder" with the tune Es ist ein Ros, though this requires some butchering of John Mason Neale's rendering of the 8th-century hymn. The Service Book & Hymnal of 1958 eliminated this need by using Gauntlett's tune instead. I appreciate their respect for the integrity of Neale's work, but the earlier Common Service Book made a better choice in Justin Knecht's tune Kocher. Personally, I find St. Alphege too plain and uninteresting to serve as an effective aid to memory - which is the least one should ask of a hymn tune.

Other hymns I have found paired with this tune include "Brief life is here our portion"; "O that the Lord's salvation"; and "The voice that breathed o'er Eden." From this one can gather that it is an attractive and versitile tune, capable of serving texts on a variety of subjects. But I predict that any hymn saddled with St. Alphege will quickly fall into that category of hymns found in every hymnal, hymns set to such generic, vanilla tunes that they get lost in plain sight.

St. Fulbert
This largely overlooked CM tune has served such texts as "Almighty God, Thy Word is cast"; "Father of mercies, in Thy Word"; and "When all Thy mercies, O my God." There are loads of tunes that could serve these hymns, so many that they begin to blur together; nevertheless, St. Fulbert does have merit, and could even be considered "mildly catchy."

St. George
Also called St. Olave after a church where Gauntlett served as organist, this tune is one of several that have been paired with the stewardship hymn "We give Thee but Thine own," and with the Communion hymn "Thy table I approach." It is more or less an average representative of its class. Naturally, it shouldn't be confused with George J. Elvey's tune St. George's, Windsor, sometimes known simply as St. George.

Triumph
The Ascension hymn "Look, ye saints, the sight is glorious" sounds better, in my opinion, sung to William Owen's tune Bryn Calfaria; that piece, however, is far too difficult for most congregations. Gauntlett's effort is much more approachable, and with its soaring lines of pomp-and-circumstance (including two phrases of grand unison) it is nearly as effective as its Welsh opposite number. I would advise taking SBH's line and placing both tunes side by side.

Other hymnals, meanwhile, have selected this tune for such hymns as "In His temple now behold Him" (for the Presentation of Jesus) and "O'er the distant mountains breaking" (for the resurrection and end times). This tune shares its title with another tune by contemporary composer Bruce R. Backer, whose Triumph has been paired with the Easter hymn "Triumphant from the grave."

University College
This is an entirely forgettable tune for such hymns as "Gracious Spirit, Dove divine"; "Jesus, name of wondrous love"; and "Source of light and life divine." Weakened by a complete lack of inspiration or individual features, it might have been redeemed by some sort of intelligible structure...but it lacks that too. Which is pretty much damnation for a hymn tune, as Revelation 3:16 says: "Because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth."

Conclusion: Henry J. Gauntlett holds a small but respectable niche in Anglophone hymnody, and holds it tenaciously - thanks, in large part, to the tune Irby. Several of his other tunes are prevented from becoming mainstays of Lutheran hymnody mainly by our knowing the same hymns to other tunes. The ongoing work of contemporary hymn-writers presents an opportunity to reacquaint ourselves with Gauntlett's finer and more distinctive works.

E. J. Hopkins

Edward John Hopkins (1818-1901) is another Anglican composer who has contributed several hymn tunes used in Anglophone Lutheran hymnals. Noted as an organist at London's Temple Church, composer and editor of organ music, and editor of both Anglican and Wesleyan service books, he is an heir to the tradition of Henry J. Gauntlett. Although Hopkins is mainly remembered for one tune (Ellers), Cyberhymnal recognizes 15 of his hymn tunes as significant. Our Lutheran books employ ten of them:

Christmas Morn
The 1958 Service Book & Hymnal pairs this tune with the children's hymn "The wise may bring their learning." Categorized under "service," it imbibes the type of treacly moralism that contradicts the evangelical spirit of Lutheranism and that makes sensible kids hate going to Sunday School. It's all about obedience and sincerity and stewardship, admonishing little children to "bring the little duties we have to do each day," etc. And don't think for one instant the tune is innocent of all this. It suits the text down to the ground.

Ellers
I reckon this is Hopkins' magnum opus. At least it is the only tune by him that has penetrated past the blubbery pietistic layer of American Lutheranism. Which is not to say it has no pietistic leanings of its own. Universally wedded to John Ellerton's close-of-worship hymn "Savior, again to Thy dear name we raise," it has all the merits and faults of a quintessentially Romantic hymn, including more syllables to a line than one really needs to get the point across, and a tonally inconclusive ending (at least, when interpreted in G Major rather than D Mixolydian). Lit by a warm glow of pious sentimentality, many organists might find if they stop playing at the beginning of the last stanza, the congregation can finish the hymn in 4-part harmony, a capella. Yes, that type of old favorite.

Daringly, a few hymnals have tried other texts on this tune, including "Father, again in Jesus' name we meet" and "Like Enoch, let me ever walk with Thee." Neither of these hymns strikes me as a big winner. I prefer to keep "Savior, again" around to sop up the sticky overflow of sentimentality that occasionally builds up in any congregation, and to give the congregation a break from closing every evening service with the "Abide with me"/Eventide combo.

Jehovah
The old Lutheran Hymnary pairs this tune (also known as Worship) with two hymns: "Ancient of Days, who sittest throned in glory" and "Praise ye Jehovah, praise the Lord most holy." The tune reminds me of a sitcom character of whom it was said, "I never expected to meet a man who had a full set of recessive genes." Everything negative that could be said of Ellers applies here, while there is nothing good to say about it at all. It is neither memorable nor artistically inspired; and even though I belonged for several years to a church that used the old Hymnary, I have a hard time even imagining a congregation bothering with this tune.

Kelso
This tune has the ring of a sentimental popular song, circa 1872. And not a particularly successful one. It sounds incongruous and, frankly, cheesy when joined with the hymn "Every morning mercies new." The last hymnal that made this mistake was the 1917/1918 Common Service Book. I doubt it will happen again.

St. Athanasius
I have heard hymns such as "Chief of sinners though I be" and "Holy, holy, holy Lord" set to bland enough tunes. But a tune would have to get up quite early in the morning to out-bland St. Athanasius. I suppose that on some ponderously dignified occasions, such a tune would do fine. In fact, this tune has some merits, chiefly in how it is structured. It's simply too easy to think of more interesting tunes.

St. Hugh
There is an English traditional hymn tune, also in the Common Metre, called St. Hugh ("Sing to the Lord the children's hymn"). The CM St. Hugh by Hopkins is another creature altogether. In Australian circles it is sung with James Montgomery's hymn "Lord, teach us how to pray aright," and William Cowper's "There is a fountain filled with blood."

Perhaps this is not the right place to mention that I think Cowper's text is one of the stupidest hymns that has ever been mistaken for a work of great profundity. I simply do not understand its appeal. No, I tell a lie. It is me-centered sentimentality dressed in the rags of atonement theology and sacramental language, but it doesn't actually say anything meaningful about atonement or the sacraments. What's not to like? Only, when you scrutinize the words, it is hard to make out what they are really talking about...unless you accept, as I do, the possibility that Cowper was out to lunch when he wrote them.

As for Montgomery, I am usually happy with his work, and his hymn about contrite prayer and Christ-centered faith is no exception. So on the grounds of textual associations, St. Hugh is a wash. Musically, it doesn't stir anything one way or the other, except the impression that Hopkins was trying to break a record for number of 7th chords and inversions thereof in a single hymn tune (I counted eight of them in four short phrases).

St. Raphael
Hopkins continues the same sentimental, 7ths-heavy harmony in this tune, which I have found paired with the following texts: "Angels, from the realms of glory"; "Glory be to God the Father"; "Jesus, Lord of life and glory"; "O'er the distant mountains breaking"; and "Savior, like a shepherd lead us." These hymns suggest so many better, alternate tunes that I think we can safely dispose of this one.

Temple
As a mate for the hymn "God, who madest earth and heaven," this tune is far less successful than, and losing ground every day to, Ar hyd y nos. It's not that it's really bad; I was quite charmed when I played through it. But it simply lacks that je ne sais quoi that its Welsh counterpart has in spades. Slightly pale as to inspiration, slightly dated-sounding, slightly embarrassing in its resemblance to Aurelia played badly, slightly awkward here and there, Temple has so many "slight" strikes against it that will presently be whittled down to nothing.

Wessex
If you are perplexed by the familiarity of this hymn's second phrase, look at Hereford by H. J. Gauntlett, which you may have seen in the essay immediately following this one. Or perhaps you are more the type who notices the first phrase's similarity to a Scandinavian chorale for the Annunciation, Maria hun er en Jomfru ren ("On Mary, virgin undefiled"). Am I messing around with you, or is it Hopkins doing that? The only good things about this hymn are lifted from elsewhere. Nevertheless the old Ev. Luth. Hymn-Book gave over the hymn "Lord of my life, whose tender care" to this tune's tender mercies. It must never happen again.

Wraysbury
Cecil F. Alexander's hymn "Jesus calls us; o'er the tumult" gets a smooth ride on this tune, at least among Lutherans in Australia. And though this isn't the first tune that hymn brings to mind (for better or worse, I can't help thinking of William H. Jude's tune Galilee), I honestly do like this tune. In fact, the popularity of Ellers notwithstanding, this is the only tune by E. J. Hopkins that I personally care for. I like everything about it, from the modest expressiveness of the melody to the gently flowing inner parts.

Conclusion: Most of E. J. Hopkins' contribution to the Lutheran cult of hymnody has been, or is currently being, destroyed by the march of time and changing fashions. I say, let the destruction continue until two tunes remain: Ellers, which I couldn't get rid of if I wanted to, and Wraysbury, which could and should, quickly and permanently, enter the repertoire of English-speaking, hymn-singing Lutherans.