Glimmerglass, again--

Credit: go here

I have been commissioned twice to write lyrics for a hymn. One of those hymns was for the bicentennial of Christ Church Cooperstown, the little country church that novelist James Fenimore Cooper turned into an intricate Gothic church on his return from Europe.

To my surprise, the congregation has sung the hymn every year since on the Sunday nearest to the anniversary of the church's consecration. The hymn tune was changed to Crimond a year or so ago, and that choice has worked much better than the first one.

So the bicentennial hymn was sung this very morning at Christ Church. And I learned today that the choir at a church in Florida has been singing it was well--although it is very specific to Cooperstown in its title and lake, I suppose it must fit elsewhere as well.

Judge William Cooper (James Fenimore Cooper's father) obtained a land grant in 1785; the first Anglican sermon was preached in Cooperstown in 1797. Work on the current church began in 1807, and consecration of the church was July 8, 1810.

If you want to read more about the making of the hymn or about some of the strong links between the church and U. S. literary history, go here, where I first wrote about the hymn.

  Glimmerglass: A Bicentennial Hymn

 In ice, remember rampant green
   And dawns that seared the night;
Within the winter of the year
   Recall midsummer's light.

 All things are passing like a mist
   That rises from the lake
And floats, dissolving into sun
   As heat and hue awake. 

In Eden, they knew face to face
   While we through smoky glass
Must peer--and as in sun's eclipse
   May see a brightness pass.

In time beyond recall, a pane
   Of glimmering was laid
'Twixt us and Him who knew our names
   Before the worlds were made.

The angels standing in a church
   Who watch with eyes that glow
According to the changing light
   Have seen us come and go,

And we would be quick-eyed as they,
   All night and mourning done,
Annealed in glory like a fire,
   And brightening with the Son.

Advent hymn commission--

Some time ago I had a commission to write words for a hymn celebrating the Bicentennial at Christ Church Cooperstown. The lyrics were first sung to the hymn tune St. Anne, though later to another that suited them better--I've forgotten which one it was and shall have to look it up.

And now I've had another request, this time to write words for an Advent hymn, and to a particular tune, Merla Watson's Awake, O Israel. Advent hymns are somewhat rare, it seems. The words seem to beg for a more lyrical and perhaps mystical tune, but they fit the distinctive meter of the music. It has been sung three times this season. The second stanza has been used as a chorus, as well.

When I was younger, I disliked being asked for occasional poems--as though one could only write such things when burning with inspiration--but now I find them an interesting challenge. That may say that age brings a hint of wisdom, or it may say something else entirely.


INFANT LIGHT
Advent Song 

In winter comes
The snow and darkness
Of the ebbing year when breath
Is white on air
And all the world
Shrunken, leaning into death.

Let’s braid our branches
Into an Advent wreath,
Weaving boxwood with bay,
And light our candles,
The rose and purples,
Leading us to Christmas Day.

In the mid-winter
The seeking Magi
Pursue a star in flight—
We are the Magi
Still trailing after,
Waiting on the infant Light.

O starry Christ-child,
Who knew our names
Before the worlds were made . . .
Again in winter,
We’ll hail thee, Child
In peace and love arrayed.

Marly writes a hymn & more bookishness

Thanks to inverarity for a thoughtful consideration of The Curse of the Raven Mocker and Ingledove at http://community.livejournal.com/bookish. Use the calendar or scroll down; the date of the piece is July 10, 2010.

* * *

Since I'm off being writer-in-residence for the M.A./M.F.A. in children's literature at Hollins University, I missed something this morning--hearing the bicentennial hymn that Fr. Samuel Abbott commissioned from me for the Bicentennial of Christ Church Cooperstown. The new rector, Fr. Mark Michael, and Bishop Love were there, and I don't know who else... The marking of the Bicentennial has been going on for some time and is a big event in the life of the village.

Christ Church Cooperstown is a church with a literary pedigree. Novelist James Fenimore Cooper, on his return from Europe, decided it was nothing but a little country church and that he could make it into a spanking new Gothic bandbox. And that's just what he did. Cooper is its best-known writer, but there is his daughter Susan Fenimore Cooper with her beautiful Rural Hours, and there is Paul Fenimore Cooper with Tal. Those three are buried in the churchyard. The victim of Poe's critical pen, the popular poet W. W. Lord, was rector there and is buried overlooking Otsego Lake. And there are more, including the late Fae Malania.

So I was honored to make this little gift to the village where I have lived for more than a decade. The challenge was to write lyrics that would link physical and metaphysical and bind words to a particular church (also physical and metaphysical.) The concrete things that I used were the splendid Tiffany angels in the sanctuary, the setting of church and Cooperstown by Otsego Lake (called Glimmerglass by Cooper), and the excessive weather of the place.

The only other time I was asked to write a poem for an occasion was for a graduation, and I could not do it! My head filled with lint whenever I tried to consider it. It was a relief that this piece flowed easily from the fount and emerged in proper hymn meter. Although many academics hate to admit it, hymn lyrics have been one of the glories of writing in the United States, and I think it interesting to make my little foray into that arena.

The lyrics were sung to the tune of St. Anne, which church-goers of many stripes will know as "O God Our Help in Ages Past." Here's the commissioned hymn:

Glimmerglass: A Bicentennial Hymn

In ice, remember rampant green
And dawns that seared the night;
Within the winter of the year
Recall midsummer's light.

All things are passing like a mist
That rises from the lake
And floats, dissolving into sun
As heat and hue awake.

In Eden, they knew face to face
While we through smoky glass
Must peer--and as in sun's eclipse
May see a brightness pass.

In time beyond recall, a pane
Of glimmering was laid
'Twixt us and Him who knew our names
Before the worlds were made.

The angels standing in a church
Who watch with eyes that glow
According to the changing light
Have seen us come and go,

And we would be quick-eyed as they,
All night and mourning done,
Annealed in glory like a fire,
And brightening with the Son.

Photo credit: I'm not sure who took this one; the photographer is listed as "Cooperstown New York." If anybody knows, tell me!