What more reassuring prelude could prepare the human soul for encounter
with its most dreaded foe than these inspired words, heard in the
exquisite setting of consolation by which the composer has illumined
their meaning? The tenderness of the benediction, the passion of the
anticipation, the recurring mournful calm that dies away in the softest
whisper of comfort, place the mind in an attitude of awed suspense which
finds its solution in the opening bars of the solemn, mysterious march
of the second movement. Here we are surely in the majestic presence of
death incarnate, wrapped, however, in a haze of beauty, sorrow,
tenderness, compassion, that betoken, not the ruthless enemy of mankind,
but a deeply mournful messenger subdued to a Divine purpose. '_Behold,
all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of
grass_,' chant the altos and tenors in unison an octave above the
basses, something of unearthliness in their tones, with the alternate
repetitions of the march; and the delicate, evanescent harmonies of the
answering phrase, '_The grass withereth, the flower fadeth_,' strangely
deepen the impression of transitoriness conveyed by the text. Relief is
given by a middle episode of somewhat more animated character: '_Be
patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold, the
husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath, long
patience for it until he receive the early and latter rain. Be ye also
patient._' The final ending of the march, which is repeated after the
episode, is succeeded by the outburst of a transitional passage--'_God's
word endureth for ever_'--leading to the vigorous gladness of the second
section of the movement (fugato)--'_And the ransomed of the Lord shall
return and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads:
they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee
away_'--whose ringing, jubilant tones are checked only by the passing
shade of sorrow, until it subsides into the more tranquilly happy mood
in which the chorus terminates.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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