Pipes, Pipes, & Pipes, St. Joseph Community Chorus, October 22, 2023

For the Beauty of The Earth, arr. Ferguson

For the beauty of the earth, for the beauty of the skies,

For the love which from our birth over and around us lies:

Christ, our God, to thee we raise this our sacrifice of praise.

For the wonder of each hour of the day and of the night,

Hill and vale and tree and flow’r, sun and moon and stars of light;

Christ, our God, to thee we raise this our sacrifice of praise.

For the joy of ear and eye, for the heart and mind’s delight,

For the mystic harmony linking sense to sound and sight;

Christ, our God, to thee we raise this our sacrifice of praise.

For the joy of human love, brother sister, parent, child,

Friends here and friends above; for all gentle thoughts and mild;

Christ, our God, to thee we raise this our sacrifice of praise.

For each perfect gift of thine, peace on earth and joy in heav’n;

For they self, best gift divine, to our world so freely giv’n;

Christ, our God, to thee we raise this our sacrifice of praise.

Jesu Bleibet meine freude, text by Martin Jahn

Jesus remains my joy, the comfort and life’s blood of my heart,

Jesus defends me against all sorrows, he is my life’s strength,

The delight and sun of my eyes, my soul’s treasure and joy;

Therefore I shall not let Jesus go from my heart and sight.

Let All The World In Every Corner Sing, Vaughn Williams

Let all the world, in every corner, sing:
My God and King!
The heavens are not too high, His praise may thither fly,
The earth is not too low, His praises there may grow,
Let all the world in every corner sing, my God and king!

Let all the world in every corner sing, my God and king!
The church with psalms must shout, no door can keep them out;
But, above all, the heart must bear the longest part.
Let all the world in every corner sing, my God and king!

 In paradisum (In Paradise), Gabriel Faure

In paradise be though receiv’d of angel hosts,

Thy coming attended by all the blessed martyr throng,

They pathway guided into the hold city,

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Jerusalem.

May the chorus of angels there receive thee,

And with Lazarus, blessed of Abraham, Lazarus, once a beggar,

Now comforted of Abraham, be thine eternal rest,

Be thy eternal rest, be thine eternal rest, be thy rest.

Floretum, text by Euan Tait

SOLOIST

…Tibi Caeli et universae potestates…

So Benedict, the young Roman noble,

Was driven by the Spirit out into the mountains.

CHORUS (Floretum 1)

It was love that shook him, as the ground,

suddenly infused with the roar of Christ,

shakes open under our feet: Benedict,

a young man, twenty, torn by compassion

in witnessing the broken lives of his friends,

pierced by the love of a woman, abandoned

the path he knew, his studies, for a path

into the mountains, suddenly naked

of knowledge, al Monte Simbruini,

deep under the rains, the tears of God.

SOLOIST

…Te Prophetarum laudabilis numerus….

CHORUS (Floretum 2)

The throat of the waters, il lago,

calls from the depths of the valley

while the path ascends steeply

to a cave. The mountains dance

all around him, the lake, the heart’s

living water, far below, the peaks

slowly eroding, like the heart

under the calling of Christ.

He met a monk, Romanus,

who stopped him like a lion

on the path. Why was he here?

Whom did he seek? Christ,

the scoured, the crucified,

has only soul nakedness for you:

go, follow the naked one.

And Benedict stayed, naked

but for the faint sense that maybe

God wanted him there, His voice

like the falling of the rain

or the whisper of the snow

at the empty mouth of the cave.

SOLOIST

…tu, devicto mortis aculeo…

SOLOIST/NARRATOR

Benedict accepts the first death, a new life

hidden in the wounded heart of Christ

burning with pain, His mercy, His love.

God meets Him in the deep peace

of the cave; the cries of the world

 ebb, cease. Benedict is alone,

but for the beauty of Christ’s voice,

the tenderness of his silence.

CHORUS (Floretum 3)

No one knew Benedict was there,

as lonely as Christ at his trial;

in the Spring heat, his heart

started to bleed again, unhealed.

He was sent the old broken image

of the woman he’d once desired

like a release from his hunger,

this relentless hermit hunger.

He ran among the thorn bushes,

his skin the scourge of his heart,

of the ego’s restless desires;

his flesh bleeding, bled deeply.

his hunger fell silent,

his heart’s viscera root-torn

by the compassion Christ

longed for in its absence,

in His scourging,

in the rending

of his garments,

of His veil, flesh.

SOLOIST

Salvum fac populum tuum…

CHORUS (Floretum 4)

Romanus, from this lion’s pride,

brought him food, to ease, not end

his hunger. Brothers came

from a fatherless monastery,

and begged him: “shepherd, here,

unchanged, are our unruly hearts.

Help us, help us. Be our abbot.”

Yet the love he brought to them

stripped them, fed only their rage.

They gave him a poisoned cup:

it shattered. A priest,

poisoned with rage, left him

poisoned bread; the raven,

friend of hunger, came,

lifted it away, tenderly.

In time, a naked hilltop,

Monte Cassino, called him,

and there he built the place

the brothers must stay,

where the wind tears

at the stone, the heart,

and they are alone with Christ

softly calling to their skin’s

angry, hidden Calvary.

SOLOIST

In te, Domine, speravi…

CHORUS AND NARROTOR

I will be laid to rest

in my utmost nakedness,

in my flesh, my broken flesh.

…non confundar in aeternum…

Amen, Amen, Amen.