THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK

A lady with the encouraging name of Hilary Jolly has recently won the competition to provide a new Millennium hymn. It is actually rather a good hymn, free of sentimentality and corny clichés, neatly wrapping up the passage of time before and during the Christian era and looking to the second coming of Jesus – that truth of Christian belief of which we hear all too little. It does contain the churchy word ‘vouchsafed’, which I have never come across in any context other than religion, but otherwise there is nothing that has us scampering for our dictionaries or our theology manuals. Cynics say the rhythm is the same as a John Betjeman poem about suburbia (actually about Ruislip Gardens underground station), but that is unkind. There is a new tune by Paul Bryan which has several winning ingredients: a nice modulation to keep everything interesting, a line of two lurking in the depths to keep everything in suspense, and then a great bursting forth in the last two lines to release all the tension. Good work.

Hymns have always been staples of worship. It is quite wrong to see them as a ‘Protestant phenomenon’. The letters of the New Testament actually quote some of the earliest examples; St. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan (+397), was one who popularised their use. A good hymn is (a) singable (b) memorable (c) theologically sound and (d) beautiful. ‘Beautiful’ does not necessarily mean the highest possible art form – beautiful poetry, for example, is not usually very easy to sing. On the subject of theological soundness, there is a crop of modern Catholic hymns which speak of receiving ‘bread and wine’ at Communion – this is, to say the least, highly misleading. Being memorable does not mean being trendy. There is a hymn beginning: "God of concrete, God of steel …" One might as well go on in that vein: "God of e-mail, God of fax …", "God of combat pants and jeans …" Hymns speak of the world, but lead us into the other world.

A good hymn has the common touch, but does not debase our common nature by being plain patronising. A great modern poet, asked her favourite hymn, referred to Henry Twells (1823-1900). Not a household name like Keats or Shelley, but the author of:

"At even when the sun was set
The sick, O Lord, around thee lay;
O, in what divers pains they met!
O with what joy they went away!"