Advent Listening No. 9

Many Christmas carols tell a story, usually the story of the nativity. I like this one because it starts in the Garden with the fall of man before moving to the Incarnation. The version I chose is fairly simple, which is probably the way to go when singing any song that tells a story.

1. The Lord at first did Adam make
Out of the dust and clay,
And in his nostrils breathed life,
E’en as the Scriptures day.
And then in Eden’s Paradise
He placed him to dwell,
That he within it should remain
To dress and keep it well.

[Chorus].
Now let good Christians all begin
An holy life to live,
And to rejoice and merry be,
For this is Christmas Eve.

2. And then within the garden he
Commanded was to stay,
And unto him in commandment
These words the Lord did say:
The fruit which in the garden grows
To thee shall be for meet,
Except the tree in the midst thereof,
Of which thou shalt not east. [Chorus].

3. For in the day that thou shalt eat,
Or do it them come nigh;
For if that thou doth eat thereof
Then surely thou shalt die.
But Adam he did take no heed
Unto that only thing,
But did transgress God’s holy law,
And so was wrapt in sin. [Chorus].

4. Now mark the goodness of the Lord
Which he for mankind bore,
His mercy soon he did extend,
Lost man for to restore;
And then for to redeem our souls
From death and hellish thrall,
He said his own dear son should be
The Saviour of us all. [Chorus].

5. Which promise now is brought to pass,
Christians, believe it well;
And by the coming of God’s dear Son
We are redeemed from thrall.
Then if we truly do believe,
And do the thing aright;
Then by his merits we at last
Shall live in Heaven bright. [Chorus].

6. Now for the blessings we enjoy,
Which are from Heaven above,
Let us renounce all wickedness
And live in perfect love.
Then shall we do Christ’s own command,
Ev’n his own written word,
And when we die in Heaven shall
Enjoy our living Lord. [Chorus].

7. And now the tide is nigh at hand,
Int’ which our Saviour came;
Let us rejoice, and merry be,
In keeping of the same.
Let’s feed the poor and hungry souls,
And such as do it crave;
Then when we die, in Heaven sure,
Our reward we shall have. [Chorus].

Lyrics from here.

Advent Listening No. 8

If all goes well, my siblings and I will sing this at my brother’s rehearsal dinner. Just the kind of haunting tune a Christmas wedding needs.

Advent Listening No. 6

It’s sunny in Birmingham today, which makes carols about snow and darkness seem less appropriate for the season. Today, I give you one of the many light and bouncy segments of Vivaldi’s Gloria, “Domine, Fili unigenite.”

Advent Listening No. 5

As you can tell, I love Christmas music that can be sung in a group, but my Christmas spirit isn’t bound by one genre. Don Chaffer of Waterdeep wrote a nativity musical several years ago called The Unusual Tale of Mary and Joseph’s Baby and it’s a rare month when the soundtrack isn’t played in our house at least once.

It’s a Christmas musical, of course, but the song below is particularly appropriate for Advent. In it, Mary does what any God-fearing woman would do and demands that the Most High keep His promises. It’s been so long. “If you won’t deliver us,” she says, “let us leave.”

I want to be delivered.
I want to be set free.
I want to get across those waters;
That’s what was promised to me.
Wandering the desert,
A wilderness of shame,
Drunk on worries of everyday life,
We’ve almost forgotten our name.
I’m half afraid this is the story
Someone will tell
Of how we fell ill, but our former glory
Would not make us well.

Don’t make me wait ‘til after I’m gone.
If you won’t deliver us, let us leave.
If you chose another people, and you’re moving on,
Just save us all the trouble of trying to believe,
And let your people go.

What does it take to wake you,
To see you raise your hand?
To hear your justice roll,
Your thundering command?
‘Cause hoping and never receiving,
It wears a heart out.
I used to feel full of believing;
Now I’m emptied by doubt.

Don’t make me wait ‘til after I’m gone.
If you won’t deliver us, let us leave.
If you chose another people, and you’re moving on,
Just save us all the trouble of trying to believe,
And let your people go.
Let your people go.
Just let your people go,
And say goodbye.

Advent Listening No. 3

Though it appears in quite a few hymnals, “This Little Babe” doesn’t often appear in Christmas programs. Robert Southwell’s lyrics are wonderful, but maybe a bit too bellicose for neighborhood caroling.

This little Babe so few days old
Is come to rifle Satan’s fold;
All hell doth at His presence quake,
Though He Himself for cold doth shake;
For in this weak unarmed wise
The gates of hell He will surprise.

With tears He fights and wins the field,
His tiny breast stands for a shield;
His battering shot are babish cries,
His arrows looks of weeping eyes,
His martial ensigns cold and need,
And feeble flesh His warrior’s steed.

His camp is builded in a stall,
His bulwark but a broken wall,
The crib His trench, haystalks His stakes,
Of shepherds He His army makes;
And thus, as sure His foe to wound,
The angels’ trumps the charge now sound.

My soul with Christ join thou in fight;
Stick to His tents, the place of might.
Within His crib is surest ward;
This little Babe will be thy Guard.
If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy,
Then flit not from this heav’nly Boy!

My favorite version of this carol is Benjamin Britten’s, which you can listen to below. I found many stunning records, but I particularly like this one because A) the singers are children and B) they are British. French and Scandinavian choirs just don’t sound the same.

Required Christmas Reading

Les Murray’s “Animal Nativity”

The Iliad of peace began
when this girl agreed.
Now goats in trees, fish in the valley
suddenly feel vivid.

Swallows flit in the stable as if
a hatching of their kind,
turned human, cried in the manger
showing the hunger-diamond.

Cattle are content that this calf
must come in human form.
Spiders discern a water-walker.
Even humans will sense the lamb,

He who frees from the old poem
turtle-dove and snake,
who gets death forgiven
who puts the apple back.

Dogs, less enslaved but as starving
as the poorest human there,
crouch, agog at a crux of presence
remembered as a star.

Text borrowed from here