saints and storms

EVEN the bravest that are slain  Shall not dissemble their surprise On waking to find valor reign,  Even as on earth, in paradise; And where they sought without the sword  Wide fields of asphodel fore’er, To find that the utmost reward  Of daring should be still to dare. The light of heaven falls whole and white  And is not shattered into dyes, The light for ever is morning light;  The hills are verdured pasture-wise; The angel hosts with freshness go,  And seek with laughter what to brave;— And binding all is the hushed snow  Of the far-distant breaking wave. And from a cliff-top is proclaimed  The gathering of the souls for birth, The trial by existence named,  The obscuration upon earth. And the slant spirits trooping by  In streams and cross- and counter-streams Can but give ear to that sweet cry  For its suggestion of what dreams! And the more loitering are turned  To view once more the sacrifice Of those who for some good discerned  Will gladly give up paradise. And a white shimmering concourse rolls  Toward the throne to witness there The speeding of devoted souls  Which God makes his especial care. And none are taken but who will,  Having first heard the life read out That opens earthward, good and ill,  Beyond the shadow of a doubt; And very beautifully God limns,  And tenderly, life’s little dream, But naught extenuates or dims,  Setting the thing that is supreme. Nor is there wanting in the press  Some spirit to stand simply forth, Heroic in its nakedness,  Against the uttermost of earth. The tale of earth’s unhonored things  Sounds nobler there than ’neath the sun; And the mind whirls and the heart sings,  And a shout greets the daring one. But always God speaks at the end:  ’One thought in agony of strife The bravest would have by for friend,  The memory that he chose the life; But the pure fate to which you go  Admits no memory of choice, Or the woe were not earthly woe  To which you give the assenting voice.’ And so the choice must be again,  But the last choice is still the same; And the awe passes wonder then,  And a hush falls for all acclaim. And God has taken a flower of gold  And broken it, and used therefrom The mystic link to bind and hold  Spirit to matter till death come. ‘Tis of the essence of life here,  Though we choose greatly, still to lack The lasting memory at all clear,  That life has for us on the wrack Nothing but what we somehow chose;  Thus are we wholly stripped of pride In the pain that has but one close,  Bearing it crushed and mystified.

Why do Christians sing when they are together? The reason is, quite simply, because in singing together it is possible for them to speak and pray the same Word at the same time; in other words, because here they can unite in the Word. All devotion, all attention should be concentrated upon the Word in the hymn. The fact that we do not speak it but sing it only expresses the fact that our spoken words are inadequate to express what we want to say, that the burden of our song goes far beyond all human words. Yet we do not hum a melody; we sing words of praise to God, words of thanksgiving, confession, and prayer. Thus the music is completely the servant of the Word. It elucidates the Word in its mystery.

aide memoire