How to Write a Hymn

Praying Psalm 135 this morning, I kept being distracted by the lines lifted from elsewhere in Scripture.

• Verse 1 comes from Psalm 113.
• Verse 5 comes from Psalm 95.
• Verse 13 comes from Psalm 72.
• Verse 14 comes from Deut 32.
• Verses 15-18 repeat a section of Psalm 115.
• Verses 19-20 are a slight twist on a section of Psalm 118.

And that list doesn’t even include the other lines that I know show up in other biblical hymns but for which my memory doesn’t have a ready-reference of the citation ... nor does this list include the other places these lines appear.

The most important thing in hymn-writing is not to have some theological acumen plus some writing ability.  The most important thing is to be steeped in God’s word, to have His hymns and His stories and His catechism so deeply entrenched in your soul and your mind that His Word (not yours) spills out whenever your mouth or pen gets to movin’.

Second of the O Antiphons

We address Adonai.
Ruler.
Lord of might.
Law-giver.
Appearing to Moses in the burning bush.
Appearing to the Israelites in the cloud and thunder and fire at Sinai.

And what is the petition connected to this God who seems so big and scary and fierce?
"Come with an outstretched arm and redeem us."

Redeem us.

That's not scary.
That's rescue.

All of God's bigness and fierceness is directed toward saving us and defending us.

Thank You for Taking Your Kid to Church

You didn't do it to make me happy.  You don't even know me.

You did it because you love Jesus.
And because you love your kid.

But here's the thing.  You took your children to church, even when they were little and it was hard.  You taught them Bible verses and the catechism and hymns.  Now your child is all grown up.  He moved away from home. 

This Sunday somebody's child and her husband were visiting our church.  After communing, she returned to her pew, singing the hymn, even without her hymnal. 

Or there was the time somebody else's child showed up at our church.  He showed up every Sunday, driving an hour to get here.  He knows the liturgy.  He knows the hymns.  He wants to join the congregation.  People wonder, "Where did he come from?" as if it's not quite normal to find 20-somethings rejoicing to come for worship, and having learned those precious words by heart. 

Hey, maybe it's not normal.  But it is good.
And it is encouraging to us old folks.

Psalm 78: Telling to the generation to come the praises of the Lord,
And His strength and His wonderful works that He has done.

Matthew 16:  I will build My church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.

Sins and/or Ills

At Lessons and Carols the other night, we sang the LSB version of a Gerhardt Christmas hymn:

Children, from the sins that grieve you,
you are freed.

It struck me because TLH says,

Brethren, from all ills that grieve you,
you are freed.

It's like what Matthew tells us (chapter 8).  While Isaiah says, "He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows," Matthew quotes it as "He took up our infirmities and bore our sicknesses."

Even though the sicknesses wouldn't be here but for sin,
even though sin is the cause of illness and death,
sometimes it nice to know that Jesus isn't "just" the cure for our sinfulness, but is also the one who bore the brokenness of our bodies, our snotty noses, our achy joints, our headaches, our mental shortcomings, and our physical weakness.  And because He took those infirmities to the cross, that gives us a cure.  The cure.

"From all ills that grieve you
you are freed.
All you need
I will surely give you."

Thyself to Scorn Didst Offer

A few weeks ago we heard the parable (Matt 21) about the vine-dressers who beat up the land-owner's servants.  Then they killed his son.

Then we heard (Matt 22) about the people who were invited to the wedding-feast of the king's son and responded with, "Phhhtttthhhbbbbppp!  We've got better things to do."

We also heard about Pharisees and scribes and Sadducees trying to entrap Jesus (Matt 22). 

If we keep reading through the passion (Matt 26-27 or Psalm 22) we'd see a lot more scorn and mocking -- from the church leaders, from the soldiers, from the people.  Even from the disciples.

Every single sin we commit =
unbelief =
disobedience =
scorning Jesus.



Lamb of God, pure and holy,
who on the cross didst suffer,
ever patient and lowly,
Thyself to scorn didst offer.
All sins Thou borest for us,
else had despair reigned o'er us.
Have mercy on us, O Jesus.

The Tardis, the Wardrobe, and the Chancel

The T.A.R.D.I.S. -- it's bigger on the inside.

The wardrobe. A portal into Narnia.  It too is bigger on the inside.  There's a whole world in there.  A world that's not apparent to people outside.



We were reading in Anne of Ingleside the other night.  Some kids were tormenting little Walter:  "Your mother is going to die.  But that's okay because you'll see her in heaven."  "How far away is heaven?" trembles Walter.  "Oh, millions and millions of miles away."

We're blind.

Jesus' flesh and blood are in the chancel.  "Lord of lords, in human vesture, in the body and the blood, He will give to all the faithful His own self for heavenly food."

The angels and archangels, the apostles and prophets, the martyrs and the blessed dead -- they're in church with us.  "Rank on rank the hosts of heaven spreads its vanguard on the way as the Light of Light descendeth from the realms of endless day -- comes the powers of hell to vanquish, as the darkness clears away." 



The Tardis is bigger on the inside.
But it's just a story.

The wardrobe is bigger on the inside.
But it too is just a story.

The chancel is bigger on the inside.
More crowded than we realize.
But it's not just-a-story.
That doorway into the nave?  It's a portal to where heaven and earth intersect.
What happens there is realer than any Reality we experience on earth.
And it's not millions and millions of miles away.

Jesus comes TO US.

Happy Things

This is the weirdest picture, ...
but how do you show a picture of somebody not using a hymnal??

It makes me happy to see people singing in church without needing a hymnal. 

My brother-in-law during the processional at his wedding.

The acolytes while they're extinguishing candles.


The elders who are carrying the pall to the coffin during the opening hymn of a funeral.

The 4-year-old who can't read yet.

The 20-something young lady from Indiana who transferred to our church, and several people asked me when they saw her singing on the way back from the communion rail, "Where did she learn all those hymns?"


I suspect the saints and angels in heaven do not use hymnbooks.  The books are necessary on earth.  But it's sweet when the words are so deep within us that we can freely sing from the heart.

The Law Within the Heart

Sixteen hymns in our new hymnal by Timothy Dudley-Smith, several mentioning God's sovereignty.  Overall there's not really anything wrong with them, but there are so many richer options.  And I tend to get cranky over the line that says Christ's sacrifice for sin begins "the covenant of grace, the law within the heart."  When the line flies past during a church service, it always strikes me as equating grace and law.

Now, if we understand "the law within the heart" not to be a new law, new rules, new demands, maybe this turn-of-phrase could be okay.  Between Hebrews (10 and 8) and Jeremiah (31), the "law within the heart" appears to be freedom from the written code of the law, the mercy of God poured out on you so that you are made new, and so that you joyfully and freely do what is good and right and of service to the neighbor.

Is that what the hymn indicates?  I don't know.  But this is what I'm trying to convince myself it's saying.

Skits in Church

So I don't like skits during church.  But is that just my preference, whereas somebody else has a different preference?

I figured it out.  It's not just me and my old-fashioned hang-ups.

Skits are pretending.

They're not real.  People are acting.  Actors pretend to be who they're not.  They say lines written for them instead of engaging in real-life, from-the-heart conversation.

What happens during church must be REAL.  It must be true and honest and live dialogue between God and man.

No show.
No pretend.
Genuine speech.  Speech that accomplishes a transaction.

That Radio Is Driving Me Nuts

So an old heavy-metal rock band is coming out with a new album pretty soon.  On three different days since this song debuted recently, I've been at work listening to the DJ's push this song.  It plays repeatedly!  And it's long.  And very very repetitive.  "God is dead.  God is dead. God is dead."  I tried looking up the lyrics to count how many "God is deads" are in the song.  I couldn't find the lyrics online, but I'm guessing at least five dozen "God is deads" each time this thing gets air-time, which puts me at 200-400 "God is deads" per day.

As I drove home from work, I wondered what would be an appropriate and allowable response.

If I'm not busy I could walk over to the radio and turn down the volume.  I'd have to explain to my partner why, and tell him he could turn the volume back up in eight minutes or so.

I could sing out loud what I've been singing to myself -- a Good Friday hymn.  "O sorrow dread.  Our God is dead, but by His expiation of our guilt upon the cross, gained for us salvation" and subsequent stanzas.

I could sing out loud a response: "He lives, all glory to His name.  He lives, my Jesus still the same.  Oh, the sweet joy this sentence gives: I know that my Redeemer lives."

Or I could just continue to bite my lip and pray.  I've listened to shocking and putrid things on that radio station -- both songs and the talk/banter.  But until now I haven't considered anything so drastic as turning off the radio and forcing the other person to listen to the dreaded Quiet.

Best Thing Ever

Every time we've sung "I Know That My Redeemer Lives" this Easter, I remembered my mother-in-law's funeral.  It was the final hymn.  The casket was escorted out by the funeral director, and the pall bearers (including my sons) followed. 

The guys put their hymnals back in the pew rack and filed out, singing the hymn (from memory) with the rest of the congregation. 

Is there anything in this earthly life that's better than that?

Chilly Easter

So I think this was the first Easter Vigil ever where I sang the Song of the Three Young Men (including the lines "You frost and cold, bless the Lord; you ice and snow, bless the Lord") when there was ice and snow right outside the window next to me. 

And then shortly before sundown on Easter, after all the kids had left, I looked out the window, and what did I see?  Snow.  More snow than mere flurries.  Snow dumping out of the sky.  It had been warm enough that it didn't stick to the deck for more than a few minutes.  But still. 

Yoo hoo!  Spring?  Where are you?




But you know what was cool?  On Easter morning, with all the grey skies and the cloud cover, there was not a hint of being able to tell where the sun was hiding behind those thick clouds.  And as the organist was playing the intro to "Thanks to Thee, O Christ Victorious" I was hearing the [ahem] real first verse to that hymn (TLH 207) which is:
Like the golden sun ascending,
breaking through gloom of night,
on the earth its glory spending
so that darkness takes to flight,
thus my Jesus from the grave
and death's dismal dreadful cave
rose triumphant Easter morning
at the early purple dawning.

And that was when the sun broke through for all of about two minutes.  Just long enough to shed light on that hymn!  Like the sun and the creation just had to bust in and join the celebration indoors at the altar!

Stuff

1. My son-in-law Nathan underwent surgery on his ankle yesterday. He fell on ice in the parking lot, resulting in two fractures in his joint as well as messing up his tendon. (Or was it ligament?  I can never keep those two straight.)  No walking for ten weeks. No driving either, as it's his right foot.

2. I waited too long to go to the theatre. I wanted SO badly to see Les Miserables. All my friends told me how fabulous it was. I have freebie tickets hanging on the bulletin board, with precious little in the theatre I have any interest in seeing. I figured I could happily go see Les Mis more than once. But recent events have prevented a trip out to indulge myself. Today I tried finding a theatre that was still showing it. No go. Bummers.

3. Next Sunday we'll be singing "In Thee Alone, O Christ, My Lord" and Gerhardt's "I Will Sing My Maker's Praises." Ah! I will spend all week looking forward to it!!!  (Is that too weird, that superb hymns bring so much relief and joy?)

4. I was chatting yesterday with a co-worker (who's majoring in psychology and Japanese) about the difference in my granddaughters. At age 4, Alia has very little ability to put herself in another's shoes. That's really not abnormal; she's young. But at age 1 1/2 Zoe was already watching out for others, trying to console sad people, and showing compassion.  My co-worker said that's highly unusual (and it is); she said kids don't start learning that until age 8 or so.  Age 8?  Hmm.  That's not what I see.  I wonder if it makes a difference if they are baptized Christians, united with the One who is mercy?

5.  I finally started watching Downton Abbey.  Oh. my. goodness.  It's so good!!!

Yesterday's Tragedy

Customers began coming in to the bank, asking if we'd heard the news.  We hadn't.  All through the afternoon, it seemed that people who hadn't heard would hop into their car, head out to do errands, turn on the radio, and come into the bank and have to say something.  They couldn't just hear the news and go on; it was imperative that they express their horror to someone.

What troubles me is that I wasn't surprised.  Saddened, indeed!  But not shocked.



Yet nights will bring their sadness
and rob our hearts of peace,
and sin in all its madness
around us may increase.
But still one Star is beaming
whose rays have pierced the night:
God comes for our redeeming
from sin's oppressive might.  (LSB 337)

Surely in Temples Made with Hands...

I used to love "Built on the Rock the Church Doth Stand."  It has some great lines and a good, strong tune. 

But when I began to understand that Jesus really truly IS there in the Divine Service -- there in His word -- there in the Supper -- there in the preaching -- there in the absolving -- I began to be troubled by

Surely in temples made with hands
God the most high is not dwelling.
High above earth His temple stands,
all earthly temples excelling.

But He is dwelling here, in this building, in this nave, in this chancel, on this altar.  He is!

When I crabbed about that line to Pastor Wiest, he told me to "take it up with Paul" because it's exactly what the apostle said when he was preaching in Athens, at Mars Hill.  Well, just go and hog-tie me, Pastor Wiest!  Darn it, how can I argue with the apostle who was inspired by God to say it?

But it still bothered me.

So after church today we looked at the Greek.  And now it makes a little more sense.  All through John -- especially where Jesus talks about abiding in the word, and abiding in the Spirit, and abiding in Him, and His abiding in us -- it's a different word.  It's not the same kind of "dwell."  So often "dwelling" is "living" or "abiding" or "remaining."  But at Mars Hill, when Paul said that God does not "dwell" in earthly temples, it's more like God isn't housed in earthly temples, like, y'know, "contained."  

Well, now, that makes loads more sense. 

He does abide here in our churches.  He does remain there.  He does dwell with us there.  But He's not limited there; He's not locked up there.

So now I'm wondering what impression the song gives other people.  Maybe I'm the only one.  Maybe everybody else thinks it's a no-brainer that God is everywhere and yet at the same time is specially located in the holy place of our churches.

Baptismal Pooping

What is it with my kids?  "Receive the sign of the holy cross," and some water connected to "I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost" ... and they filled their diapers to overflowing.* 

Twenty-three years ago today my baby spent the church service wrapped in a kitchen towel.  You'd have thought, by this point, that on a baptism Sunday I'd tuck a change of clothes into the diaper bag.  But no.  I forgot.  And Paul outpooped the poops of all his older sibs.  After the baptism rite, I bathed the other end of the kid, snagging a dish towel from the kitchen drawer so he wouldn't be cold and naked.

Also on this day 23 years ago we sang "Oh, How Great Is Thy Compassion" for the baptism hymn.  Pastor Wieting initially thought it was the oddest request he'd ever had for a baptism hymn.  Really?  "And in our deep degradation, Thou hadst mercy so that we might be saved eternally." Ah, yes, it works just dandy as a baptism hymn.  I'll sing it again today.  Maybe others in the family will too.


* Except for the two youngest. 

Disliking Hymns?

Again and again, parents & Sunday School teachers & pastors find that they can influence likes.  Generally, we like what we know.  Teach the kids "I Just Wanna Be a Sheep [baa baa baa baa]" and be enthusiastic over that campsong, and the kids will like it.  Teach them "Triune God, Be Thou Our Stay" and be enthusiastic over the hymn, and the kids will like that.

And don't you deny it.  That's the whole psychology behind pop musicians trying to finagle the DJ's into giving their songs a lot of play-time.  What people know is what we end up liking.  

Normally, people aren't as fond of a hymn the first time they hear it as they are the tenth time.  As we learn the tune and have a chance to meditate more and more on the text, normally the hymn grows on us.

So, then, if I find myself disliking a hymn the more we sing it, might that mean there's something wrong with that hymn?

Trust Not in Princes

On Wednesday I kept finding myself singing The Election Song.  "Trust not in princes they are but mortal.  Earthborn they are and soon decay....  Since then no man can help afford, trust ye in Christ, our God and Lord"  (TLH 26).  I would stop myself and think, "Wait.  My guy won.  This song isn't right for today.  This is the hymn you sing when your guy loses.  What should I sing instead?  Maybe the te Deum?"

But you know what?  Even when my guy loses, it's right to sing "We praise Thee, O God.  We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord ...."  And when when my guy wins, it's right to sing, "Trust not in princes ...."  Because the Lord knows what He's doing, regardless of who wins an election. 

Nevertheless, I still want to do the Happy Dance when think of Tuesday night's election results.

Since Jesus Crossed What River?

Death's flood has lost its chill
since Jesus crossed the river.
Lover of souls, from ill
my passing soul deliver.  (LSB 482)

A choir director or a pastor or somebody told me once that this was an allusion to the river Styx.  Greek mythology.  The place of the dead.  Charon ferrying the dead person across.

Really?

But this year it crossed my mind that many aspects of mythology have roots in the truth.  Sure, the truth was twisted, sometimes almost beyond recognition.  In this case, the truth is that Canaan was the Promised Land to which God was leading the children of Israel.  And Canaan is a type of the promised land.   As the Israelites were baptized in the crossing of the Red Sea and then spent decades on their pilgrimage, so we are baptized into Christ and then spend our lives on a pilgrimage.  They crossed the Jordan River into the promised land.  We cross from our earthly pilgrim life into the promised land of heaven.  Maybe the Jordan is where the myth of the Styx came from.

So maybe the hymn isn't alluding to the Styx, but maybe the story of the Styx found its beginning in God's story.

Easter Hymns

Easter hymns are full of phrases about how we want to sing for joy; or that Jesus rose from the dead so we sing alleluia.  Lots of the lines in Easter hymns are about our response to the resurrection.

Some Easter hymns have a different kind of line, a more objective statement.  For example, "Let us feast this Easter day on Christ, the bread of heaven.  The word of grace has purged away the old and evil leaven."   Or "For the sheep the Lamb has bled, sinless in the sinners' stead."  Or "My Savior there was laid where our bed must be made when to the realms of light our spirit wings its flight."  Or "Love's redeeming work is done, fought the fight, the battle won.  Lo, our Sun's eclipse is o'er; lo, He sets in blood no more."   Or "Thou, of life the author, death didst undergo."

But it seems like the wonderfully rich lines that so often show up in Lenten hymns and communion hymns (and other sections of the hymnal) are not as abundant in Easter hymns.  I don't understand that.  Look at what Easter is.  Look at all the references to it in the Old Testament and in the epistles.  There's plenty of fodder there for allusions and imagery and depth of theology.  It is there, mixed in with the alleluias. 

I guess that's why those few that are particularly meaty and beautiful and eloquent are so special.