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Programme Note

Sacred Expression

Between the late 1670s and his death in 1695, Henry Purcell wrote some hugely expressive sacred choral music for the Chapel Royal and Westminster Abbey. Hear my prayer, O Lord (c. 1682) seems to have been conceived as part of a larger work that was never finished. In the original manuscript, the barline at the end is written without the usual flourish Purcell used to sign off complete works, and there are several pages left blank afterwards. Yet what we are left with, even without any larger framework, is a highlight of Purcell’s output. This setting of words from Psalm 102 is for eight voice parts, which Purcell uses to great effect, steadily building the texture from a simple opening to increasingly rich, plangent writing – resulting in such exquisitely haunting harmonies that the work well supports Benjamin Britten’s statement: “I had never realised before I first met Purcell’s music that words could be set with such ingenuity, with such colour.” 

Purcell also wrote a number of Funeral Sentences: ‘Man that is born of a woman’ and ‘In the midst of life we are in death’, and, from his Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary, ‘Thou knowest Lord the secrets of our hearts’, which was performed during Queen Mary’s funeral in March 1695 – a few months before Purcell’s own death in November of the same year. ‘Thou knowest Lord’ is among the most cherished works in the choral canon, Purcell’s judicious use of chordal textures and repetition creating a work of timeless solemnity. Later in the programme, we hear Purcell’s setting of a Latin paraphrase of Psalm 3, Jehova, quam multi sunt hostes (c. 1680).  

During his time in Leipzig, Johann Sebastian Bach generally wrote motets for special occasions such as funerals; six of his surviving motets were catalogued as BWV 225-230. Der Geist hilft unsrer Schwachheit auf, BWV226 for double choir, was composed in 1729 for the funeral of a man described by Bach in the dedication as ‘the blessed Rector, Professor Ernesti’ – a professor of poetry at Leipzig University and director of the Thomasschule, where Bach worked. The music reflects a text from Romans, chosen by Ernesti, with vivid effects used to evoke the Spirit, and sighing figures for ‘unutterable sighs’, while learned fugal writing seems a fitting tribute to the academic to whom he was paying tribute.  

Bach’s extraordinary Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied, BWV225 (1727) is also in three movements, the outer sections to texts from Psalms 149 and 150. In the ambitious first movement, the main theme is separated by contrasting episodes (‘ritornello form’). In the central movement, the second choir sings words from the Lutheran chorale Nun lob, mein Seel, den Herren, answered by the first choir singing words derived from the chorale text. The work culminates in an irresistible four-part fugue starting at ‘Alles was Odem hat’: ‘All that have voice, praise the Lord!’  

Johann Christoph Bach was probably the most significant Bach before Johann Sebastian, described as being “as good at inventing beautiful thoughts as he was at expressing words”, his style “uncommonly full-textured". Johann Sebastian Bach referred to him as ‘the profound composer’. Johann Christoph’s motets epitomise the central German tradition inherited by his younger cousin; he studied with one of Schütz’s students, Jonas de Fletin, so his music represents a bridge between the pivotal styles of Schütz and Johann Sebastian Bach. His motets, though difficult to date precisely, seem to evolve from the use of clear distinctions between different choral textures, to a more fluid style. Ach, dass ich Wassers gnug hätte is a profoundly moving countertenor lament based on texts from Jeremiah, Psalm 38 and Lamentations, and features solo violin in support of the expressive vocal writing.

Handel’s Dixit dominus (1707) dates from his time in Italy and is likely to have been commissioned by one of his patrons there, Cardinal Carlo Colonna. It is his earliest surviving autograph manuscript. A psalm setting in Latin, this is a wonderful early instance of Handel’s aplomb when handling large-scale forms. In this vigorous setting for five soloists, five-part chorus, strings and continuo, he relished every opportunity for “word painting” – when the music vividly illustrates the text through its shape or sound. There’s the percussive setting of ‘conquassabit’ to represent shaking and shattering skulls; the use of intricate interwoven lines for ‘Tu es sacerdos’ (‘you are a priest’); and the unusual harmonies, interwoven lines and evocative chanting of ‘De torrente’, when the words, “He shall drink of the brook … therefore shall he lift up his head” defy easy illustration – but Handel somehow manages it anyway.

© Joanna Wyld, 2025