On Psalms, Hymns, and Spiritual Songs: Sacred Music for the Nativity of St. John the Baptist

From the womb of one aged and barren was brought forth John, the Forerunner of the Lord.

— Antiphon for the Nativity of St. John the Baptist

In an article entitled, “Praying the Psalms with Jesus and His Body,” Thomas W. Winger makes the intriguing observation that the Codex Alexandrinus, the most important Greek manuscript of the fifth century, follows a common pattern of appending canticles to the 150th Psalm. These additions include the canticles of Luke 1 and 2: Benedictus, Magnificat, and Nunc Dimittis (CTQ 84:1-2, p. 123). The inclusion of Lukan canticles at the end of the Psalter suggests (or does it prove?) that the canticles of Luke 1 and 2 are part and parcel of the referent of St. Paul’s admonition to sing “Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs” (Col 3:16; cf. Eph 5:19). In simple terms, the canticles of Luke 1 and 2 are part of our “A List” hymns, not to be neglected. In our ongoing exploration of Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, the Nativity of St. John the Baptist (June 24th, six months before Christmas) gives us a chance to focus on the Benedictus (St. Luke 1:68-79).
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I have heard the Magnificat described as “an aria in the opera of salvation” as the action seems to stop to focus on the profundity of the incarnation through the virgin birth. If the Magnificat is an aria, then the Nunc Dimittis might be described as a brief recitative because it offers more of a transition in the birth narrative than an extended contemplation of the action. Though normally not considered to be a canticle, the Gloria (St. Luke 2:14) is a mighty chorus of salvation, uniting angels, archangels, and all the company of heaven. The Benedictus, then, might be designated as the second great aria in the narrative, but it is by no means to be missed. The “step parallelism” between Jesus and John, Magnificat and Benedictus, is remarkable: a miraculous pregnancy, a great prophet to be born of woman, and a timeless hymn that gave the church of all ages the words to sing the gospel.

The language of the Benedictus is that of a Psalm of jubilation, beginning with a common Old Testament formula, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel.” Why is the Lord alone to be blessed? In the words of Paul Westermeyer: “Because this God visits and redeems the people, saves them from the enemies, sets them free, makes a covenant so the people can worship . . . .” (Te Deum: The Church and Music, p. 46)

Tyler Arnold describes how God blesses His people through the incarnation:
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He does this in no uncertain terms—not in general but in a particular moment in history through the remembering of a covenant oath that God swore to Abraham. In blessed jubilation, Zechariah sings his elation by calling all to remembrance that God has previously addressed the topic of redemption with his people (ἐποίησεν λύτρωσιν—aorist active indicative; literally, the Lord “wrought” redemption). He did this by making a literal appearance to help (ἐπεσκέψατο — aorist middle indicative) and, in so doing, looks after his precious children. All this is predicated on his promise of salvation. (Logia XXIX:2, p. 8)
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Due to the rich content and poetic structure of the Benedictus, it is no surprise that musical settings abound. This column will focus on three settings from sixteenth-century England, moving in chronological order according to the composer’s year of birth. All three settings to be discussed in this column use the following translation, which was later included in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer:

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel : for he hath visited, and redeemed his people;
And hath raised up a mighty salvation for us : in the house of his servant David;
As he spake by the mouth of his holy Prophets : which have been since the world began;
That we should be saved from our enemies : and from the hands of all that hate us;
To perform the mercy promised to our forefathers : and to remember his holy Covenant;
To perform the oath which he sware to our forefather Abraham : that he would give us;
That we being delivered out of the hands of our enemies : might serve him without fear;
In holiness and righteousness before him : all the days of our life.
And thou, Child, shalt be called the Prophet of the Highest : for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways;
To give knowledge of salvation unto his people : for the remission of their sins,
Through the tender mercy of our God : whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited us;
To give light to them that sit in darkness, and in the shadow of death : and to guide our feet into the way of peace.
Glory be to the Father. . . .

I. Thomas Tallis (c. 1505-1585)
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Tallis was one of England’s finest composers and occupies a prominent place in both sacred and secular music of continental Europe during the Renaissance. The reader may know him best as the composer of the tune, TALLIS’ CANON (“All Praise to Thee, My God, This Night”), with a text by Thomas Ken. The output of sacred music in sixteenth century England is often rightly described as “the flowering of genius,” as anyone who has sampled the riches of English music of the Renaissance will attest. But even amidst the vast talent pool of this time and place, Tallis is distinguished by his versatility of style and skillful handling of his material, as his setting of the Benedictus demonstrates.
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As you listened to this recording by the Hilliard Ensemble, could you understand the words without following the printed text? When compared to the elaborate music of Palestrina, you might find the text to be remarkably clear. This is quite intentional. Religious authorities at the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign discouraged polyphony (literally “many voices,” often resulting in a dense texture that might muddle the text) and asked that sacred choral music be stated more plainly, “as if it were read without singing” (quoted in Jonathan Willis, Church Music and Protestantism in Post-Reformation England, p. 57). In visual terms, the text is often vertically aligned, which adds to the clarity of the text. And when each voice meanders in imitation of another voice, it does not stray far from one another, before aligning for internal cadences. The sheer beauty of the music supports my unofficial designation of Thomas Tallis as “The Magical Tallis-man.”
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II. Robert Parsons (c.1530-1572)
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Parsons also composed during a time of major religious upheaval in England. Thomas Cranmer’s 1549 Book of Common Prayer replaced the old Latin liturgy with English texts, which beckoned for new music. And the talent flood of English composers was certainly up to the task. Like Tallis, Parsons was a musician of the Chapel Royal, placing him in the center of the new direction for sacred music in the English tradition. The following setting comes from his First Service, i.e., his first setting of selected texts from Book of Common Prayer. As you listen to this longer setting sung by a larger ensemble than that in the previous video, ask yourself, What is the most endearing trait of this music?

The composers of sacred music in this era spent a great deal of time writing in the motet form. In this form (mot = “word”), the composer takes the first word or phrase of the text, gives it a theme, and then passes the theme equally among all voices. The next phrase of the text is set to a different music motif, and so forth until the entire text has been painted and all the voices finally converge for a cadence. The settings of the Benedictus reflect some of this motet method, but with adjustments to add clarity to the text. In my estimation, this is the most endearing trait of these anthems: the music delivers a clear text while simultaneously weaving its way to the heights of heaven.
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III. William Byrd (1543-1623)
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Byrd is connected to both Tallis and Parsons. He was a student of Tallis, with whom he published numerous works under a license granted directly by the reigning monarch. When Tallis died, Byrd wrote a powerful and poignant lament for the tenor voice, “Tallis is Dead.” Byrd succeeded Parsons in the prestigious post as a Gentlemen of the Chapel Royal after Parsons drowned in the river Trent near Newark. In addition to numerous works for keyboard and lute, Byrd’s output of sacred music carried the legacy of Tallis and Parons forward into the seventeenth century. His Great Service is a setting on a massive scale – including five, six, and eight-part settings—of the Venite, Te Deum, Benedictus, Creed, Magnificat, and Nunc Dimittis. To be sure, there is no single liturgical service that includes all of these texts, so the Great Service was probably intended as a portfolio of sacred music (and compositional prowess), from which musicians could pick and choose according to the occasion. It is also reasonable to conclude that it was beyond the reach of many choirs of Byrd’s day, as it might be for many choirs today. But perhaps you will agree with me that it is one of the great heights of English sacred music of the Renaissance?
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The score provided in this video offers some unique insight into the performance of sacred music of this period. The designations “verse” and “anthem” are probably editorial suggestions to divide into one smaller and one larger ensemble, which is a viable option, especially for choirs with paid section leaders. Much more important (and more likely to be original) is the designation “Decani” and “Cantoris” to indicate two groups: one standing to the north of the altar (the Deacon’s side) and the other standing to liturgical south (the Cantor’s side), a practice still used in the Anglican tradition today. Dividing the choir into two small ensembles allows for antiphonal singing, the practice of alternation, and even a vocal rest during longer services and extended hymn anthems. Church musicians who wish to introduce the music of Byrd to their congregation might employ organ doubling for the vocal parts and begin with his shorter and simpler works, but those who venture the greater challenge may look forward to even greater rewards for singers and hearers alike.

In the context of the public liturgy, the Benedictus has found a lasting place at Lauds (Roman Catholic), Morning Prayer (Anglican), and as the Canticle at Matins (Lutheran). Here the faithful join Zechariah to bless the Lord, to remember His mighty works of salvation, and to give thanks for John, the Forerunner of the Lord. Again, from Tyler Arnold:
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​All the main verbs in the Benedictus are oriented toward the future, which not only lends itself to an eschatological hope for the sake of the church today but also shows how this psalm can be articulated catechetically. The Old Testament gives the hearer knowledge of the mighty acts of the past while the New Testament demonstrates the acts of fulfillment through John’s proclamation and, ultimately, the work of Jesus. Essentially the Benedictus arrives full circle as it eloquently brings the promises of the past into the present age with a view of what God promises in the future. (Logia XXIX:2, p. 8)
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​That is to say, not unlike the Psalter itself, the Benedictus is Christ’s own prayer through the mouth of His saints. Here the faithful sing the gospel itself, even as we pray “that we may know this Thy salvation, and serve [the Lord] in holiness and righteousness all the days of our life; through the same, Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost : ever one God, world without end.” (The Brotherhood Prayer Book, pp. 514-515)