There would I find a settled rest, while others go and come,
No more a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home.
No more a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home.
— Isaac Watts
Psalm 23 is perhaps the most beloved and well known of all psalms. Martin Luther summarizes the content of this Psalm:
| The 23rd psalm is a psalm of thanks in which a Christian heart praises and thanks God for teaching him and keeping him on the right way, comforting and protecting him in every danger through his Holy Word. The psalmist compares himself to a sheep that a faithful shepherd leads into fresh grass and cool water. In addition, he shows that table, the cup, and oil also as images from the Old Testament worship and calls it God’s Word, as it is also called rod and staff, grass, water, and the way of righteousness. (Reading the Psalms with Luther, p. 59) |
Artistically, the image of Christ as the Good Shepherd was the most common depiction of Christ in early Christian art, even more so than the image of the cruciform mystery. Liturgically, this familiar Psalm of David is the stuff of confirmations, Good Shepherd Sunday, ordinations, and of course the rite of Christian burial. Musically, the Lord has blest His Bride with a veritable plethora of musical settings, ancient and modern. For the sake of length, this column will focus on three twentieth century composers from the English cathedral tradition, all of whom used the following translation from the 1662 edition of Book of Common Prayer:
| The Lord is my shepherd: therefore can I lack nothing. He shall feed me in a green pasture: and lead me forth beside the waters of comfort. He shall convert my soul: and bring me forth in the paths of righteousness, for his Name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff comfort me. Thou shalt prepare a table before me against them that trouble me: thou hast anointed my head with oil, and my cup shall be full. Surely thy loving-kindness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. |
I. Charles Hylton Stewart (1894-1932)
Stewart is certainly the least known of the three composers discussed in this column. His modest entry in the standard musical resources indicate that he was an English cathedral organist, who served in Rochester Cathedral and St. George's Chapel, Windsor Castle. He also produced several compositions for organ, and a few for choir. After listening to his straightforward setting of Psalm 23, perhaps you will agree with me that it is worth placing in your own listening library and hopefully in your choir loft?
Textually, the words are sung straight through, with no repetition of any words or syllables. The boy sopranos sing most of the text on a simple reciting tone (i.e., two or more syllables on one note), harmonized by the other voices, and then repeated with a slightly different configuration. Musically, there are only a handful of pitches, a basic harmonization, and a natural flow through the text. Consider also what is not there: no solos, no instruments, and no great dynamic contrast or accents. The music almost “sings itself” once the conductor has given the downbeat. Simple, you say? Indeed! But that is perhaps the beauty and essence of this setting by Stewart. Contextually, the relative simplicity and accessibility of this setting suggests that it might be sung for the Lord’s Supper, as the cup of salvation in Psalm 23 is fulfilled in the Holy Chalice of the Shepherd’s own blood.
II. Herbert Howells (1892-1983)
The note in the autograph score of the short Requiem by Howells says that the score was written in 1936. For personal reasons, however, it was not released until 1980. What caused England’s most respected cathedral composer of his day to withhold a completed score for a full 44 years? His nine-year-old son, Michael, died of spinal meningitis in 1935. Howells wrote this short Requiem in six movements (about 18 minutes in length), using a combination of Scripture passages and the historic Requiem text to help carry him through the grief. His friends testified that it took nearly three years for him to regain his emotional and personal equilibrium. And yet, even then, this work was too painful for him to hear until the last two years of his life, which might lead the reader to agree with someone who said that this Requiem is “a wonderful, heart-aching work of searing beauty.”
The Psalm begins with the luminous sound of treble voices, appropriate to be sung in memory of a child. The tenor enters several measures later, creating a gentle counterpoint to the upper voices. The voices unite at the words, “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” especially fitting for the memory of Howells’ son. The music reaches a dynamic climax at the words, “my cup shall be full.” Frequent use of unison singing at the octave and sensitivity to the text allow the Psalm to close with a note of hope for those who dwell in the house of the Lord forever. But perhaps the most endearing trait of this setting comes from knowing its background in the unspeakable grief of child loss. Those who walk through the valley of the shadow of death will fear no evil, for they are under the watchful eye the Good Shepherd, who “by his bodily resurrection [has] brought life and immortality to light so that all who die in Him abide in peace and hope” (LSB Agenda, p. 130).
III. John Rutter (b. 1945)
John Rutter is no stranger to anyone with an interest in the choral arts. His prolific career as conductor, composer, and clinician on two continents is simply profound. Although some of his music entangles the sacred and the secular, a few gems have emerged that are fitting for the Lutheran tradition, perhaps none more so that his setting of Psalm 23 for oboe (or flute), choir, and orchestra (or organ). As you listen to the following setting, consider why the oboe (and occasional harp) are fitting for a psalm of David.
The reedy sound of the oboe is fitting for this Psalm because it is associated with the pipes that ancient shepherds used to play to pass the time. The orchestra plays a supporting role, allowing the oboe to soar and the text to predominate, with a sort of “call and response” between the oboe and the choir. The harp is fitting for a Psalm of David since David played the early version of the harp. The music changes dramatically at the words, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” to depict the danger that surrounds the sheep. But the loving kindness and tender mercy of our God will prevail, come what may. The climactic moment comes at the words, “And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” as the risen and ascended Shepherd brings His sheep safely through death to eternal life. Indeed, one senses at the word “house” that heaven itself has opened, where angels, archangels, and all the company of heaven every cry, “Holy, holy holy!”
John Mason Neale (1818-1866), building on numerous patristic sources, says of Psalms 22 and 23: “In the last Psalm [22] we heard of the Passion of Christ: now [in Psalm 23] we hear of the effects of that Passion. It was because He stood in need of everything, that we lack nothing” (A Commentary on the Psalms, I:316). This is most certainly true! In Psalm 22:1, Christ prays, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Psalm 22 reads as a narrative commentary on the Passion of Christ, as He is forsaken by the Father, taunted by the unbelievers, and left with no one to help Him. But it is precisely because the Shepherd has given all that you and I, the sheep of His pasture, can have all things necessary for life and salvation. He thirsted on the cross that you and I might drink form the waters of salvation. Jesus drank the cup of bitter the Father’s wrath that we would drink the cup of salvation. He walked through the valley of the shadow of death that you and I might pass through death to life eternal. Christ sat at table with his own betrayer that you and I would sit at His heavenly banquet table, as children who have found their eternal Sabbath rest. As one Collect puts it:
Shepherd us, O Lord, with the sweet rod and staff of Thy Word, that we may obtain a place in Thine eternal habitation, and be filled with the plenitude of the celestial banquet; through Jesus Christ, our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen. (The Brotherhood Prayer Book, p. 165)
John Mason Neale (1818-1866), building on numerous patristic sources, says of Psalms 22 and 23: “In the last Psalm [22] we heard of the Passion of Christ: now [in Psalm 23] we hear of the effects of that Passion. It was because He stood in need of everything, that we lack nothing” (A Commentary on the Psalms, I:316). This is most certainly true! In Psalm 22:1, Christ prays, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Psalm 22 reads as a narrative commentary on the Passion of Christ, as He is forsaken by the Father, taunted by the unbelievers, and left with no one to help Him. But it is precisely because the Shepherd has given all that you and I, the sheep of His pasture, can have all things necessary for life and salvation. He thirsted on the cross that you and I might drink form the waters of salvation. Jesus drank the cup of bitter the Father’s wrath that we would drink the cup of salvation. He walked through the valley of the shadow of death that you and I might pass through death to life eternal. Christ sat at table with his own betrayer that you and I would sit at His heavenly banquet table, as children who have found their eternal Sabbath rest. As one Collect puts it:
Shepherd us, O Lord, with the sweet rod and staff of Thy Word, that we may obtain a place in Thine eternal habitation, and be filled with the plenitude of the celestial banquet; through Jesus Christ, our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen. (The Brotherhood Prayer Book, p. 165)
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