My Light And My Help
(Audio Sample - 836 KB)
Song from Psalm 27
I sing to the Lord, my light and my help:
whom should I fear, from whom should I hide?
I sing to the Lord, my stronghold, my life:
whom should I counter by noon or by night?
who then could harm me or darken my days?
who then could cause me to stumble and fall?
one thing alone that I ask of the Lord.
one thing I seek all the days of my life.
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord.
that I may savor the sweetness of God.
there in the Temple I find peace and calm.
there in the shadow of God's saving hand.
show me your goodness, your wisdom and grace.
show me your justice, your freedom, your life.
(extra verses: )
high on the Rock I stand firm and secure.
high on the mountain I thrill to my God.
sing and make music and dance for the Lord,
sing and rejoice, for the Lord is my friend.
teach me, O Lord, every truth I should live,
teach me, O Lord, every path I should take.
lead me and guide me when danger prevails,
lead me and guide me in all of my ways.
show me your goodness, your wisdom and grace.
show me your justice, your freedom, your life.
A Reflection on Isaiah 9:1
The people that walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
on those who lived in the shadow of darkness and death,
new light has dawned.
Composer's Reflection
Psalm 27 is really two separate and distinct poems. The first, verses 1-6, is a song of trust and confidence, a litany in praise of an ever-faithful God. The second, verses 7-14, is a lamentation, characterized by petitions directed to a suddenly inattentive God. What is unusual about this psalm is that the two poems has been reversed. Normally, lament would precede hymn, sorrow resolved with the joy of deliverance.
The first song is set within a context of hostility. The psalmist, surrounded by enemies, is endlessly confident in God's power to protect; even in the darkest of times, God is an unquenchable light. The second song is set against a backdrop of accusation. The psalmist is an outcast, alienated even from his own family. Only in the final verse is there any ray of hope in this time of trial, a priestly oracle bringing hope to the outcast.
The musical setting of this piece is an extended reflection on Creator Alme Siderum, or Creator of the Stars of Night, the Gregorian hymn for Advent Sunday Vespers. This melody can be found in the keyboard figures for the odd verses and flute descant in the Abbreviated Version, and in both keyboard figures for the Extended Version.
The music setting attempts to bridge the different worlds of each of the two poem, confidence and lament. It follows a gentle oscillation between the C and B flat tonalities. The assembly refrain does not come between verses but has been integrated into the psalm, built into the opening and mid-point of each verse. Although the refrain appears to demand the attention of the cantor, the cantor continues each verse almost oblivious to the assembly's interruptions.
In its simplest form, the Abbreviated Version of the piece is sung entirely in unison. For a more elaborate setting, a descant has been provided for the even-numbered refrains. A more elaborated setting calls for duets to be sung on even-numbered verses. Finally, a flute descant may be added to enhance the flow and provide counter melodies to the voices.
Why have I provided two settings, two versions, of this piece? The psalm is rather lengthy, 14 verses, which I compressed into 11 for the original, Extended Version. A further distillation into a 6 verse Abbreviated Version provides for a more attractive alternative. The longer, extended version is presented as a plain, melodic setting, devoid of instrumentation other than alternating keyboards for odd and even verses. However, the flute and vocal harmonies of the abbreviated version may be used in this extended setting, reserving the sung refrain descants and verse duets for the even-numbered verses.
The piece was written for an Advent lucernarium, with its alternating themes of light and darkness at the gloomiest time of the year, at least in the Northern hemisphere. It was in this experience of vigil, a crucible of expectation, of waiting for the return of light, that the Christian liturgical cycle evolved.