Thomas Merton on Latin and Gregorian Chant (1964)

 [234] To Dom Ignace Gillet

September 11, 1964

[236] Much is said here about Latin and Gregorian chant: things to be "suppressed" because we do not "understand" them. Well, this is a very serious point. I believe that, as you say, many young people more easily admit that they are dissatisfied with the Gregorian chant and the Latin, because they are made to believe this. I know very well that in our monasteries in America there is a real movement, an agitation, for this and for still other things. People are pushed into thinking that they are dissatisfied with the Latin, the Gregorian chant, the status of laybrother, the liturgy as we have it, when in reality that is not the case at all. For a long time it was said here that "the brothers" in general wanted to change habit, come to choir, change their status, etc. But it was only a few brothers who, moreover, were not always the best ones but who got more agitated and had more to say, and who tried to persuade the others to go with them, etc. You know these stories quite well by now.

But this is what I think about the Latin and the chant: They are masterpieces, which offer us an irreplaceable monastic and Christian experience. They have a force, an energy, a depth without equal. All the proposed English offices are very much impoverished in comparison—besides, it is not at all impossible to make such things understood and appreciated. Generally I succeeded quite well in this, in the novitiate, with some exceptions, naturally, who did not understand well. But I must add something more serious. As you know, I have many friends in the world who are artists, poets, authors, editors, etc. Now they are well able to appreciate our chant and even our Latin. But they are all, without exception, scandalized and grieved when I tell them that probably this Office, this Mass will no longer be here in ten years. And that is the worst. The monks cannot understand this treasure they possess, and they throw it out to look for something else, when seculars, who for the most part are not even Christians, are able to love this incomparable art.

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Source: Thomas Merton, The School of Charity: The Letters of Thomas Merton on Religious Renewal and Spiritual Direction, ed. Patrick Hart (New York, NY: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1990), 234, 236.

Cold Facts on the Congregational Singing of Gregorian Chant (1956)

[11] An article which proposes to set forth "cold" facts on anything should maintain some flavor of objectivity and impersonal evaluation. This is not always easy for a musician. In an art which lies so completely outside the descriptive and analytical power of words, those few basic concepts which are conveyable in everyday language are adhered to by their partisan upholders with what amounts to sheer fanaticism. We are all subject to such attachments, whether or not we wish to be. When we hear two other persons arguing over the respective merits of two opposing points of view, we may not wish to make a black-and-white decision ourselves, but the very awareness of the opposition starts our mental machinery in motion, whether we wish it or not. We may try to defer a decision or opinion, but out intellectual curiosity and that inner compulsion to grapple with indecision drives us to select at least a temporary position.

Thus it is that composers are still fighting the battle over the admission of consecutive fifths to contemporary harmonic progressions, the discarding of the concept of traditional tonality in favor of other means of achieving large-form unity, the selection of keys in compositions which admit the notion of key-sense, and countless other ideas. Church musicians fight about the admission of solo singing, the use of the organ to accompany chant, the role of contemporary music in liturgical services, and . . . congregational singing.

It is very hard not to be swept into one camp or another by the ardor of the partisans. At times the dust of rhetoric is so thick that the music is almost lost sight of. It is, therefore, with a perfect realization of the consequences that we approach the point of this writing.

[12] I. Congregational Participation

At the outset we are obliged to discuss a question which has been settled quite clearly for all reasonable musicians who have studied the matter, but for which the tenacity of die-hards requires a brief and pointed comment.

Rome, following traditional patterns and the historical verity of all liturgical worship in all rites, eastern and western, has stated clearly in many cases and from general principle that congregational participation in the singing of the liturgy is a desirable and functionally correct goal. Logic and history assign to the people the singing of the Ordinary parts of the services, leaving the Propers to the musicians of the choir. It is obvious that the simple responses at Mass and in the Office can be handled by a devout congregation with a minimum of training. The stumbling block seems to be the singing of the more extended parts of the Ordinary, particularly at Mass.

A short time ago, this writer published an article on this question in the official organ of the Vernacular Society of America, Amen (November, 1955). The response to this article demonstrated with unquestionable directness that there is a minority of our first-rank church musicians which refuses to accept the notion that congregational singing of the Ordinary is more in accord with the basic plan of the liturgy than the use of rich polyphonic settings which give the entire role to the choir. The attitude in this minority group is, in general, that the polyphonic ordinary, although it removes the possibility of congregational singing, provides music which is just as fine and liturgically suitable as any which another arrangement could conceivable [sic] supply.

We cannot question the fact that the great settings of Palestrina, Lassus, Vittoria, and their contemporaries are among the finest music ever written by man, bar none. This is augmented by the undeniable acceptance of these settings as spiritually, textually and proportionally in accord with the nature of the liturgy they enhance.

[13] It is also true, however, that certain parts of the Ordinary were delegated to the congregation from the earliest days of the church. This is proved by references in the early Ordos and writings of the Fathers. Not all the Ordinary was usually sung by the congregation, however. Local variants in liturgical practice, as well as the late introduction of items such as the Credo require us to admit that different customs held forth in different lands and times. The principle of congregational participation is, however, clearly established. It is doubtful that anyone today could deny the general principle from a historical point of view.

From the contemporary point of view, the matter is even less doubtful. We are not bound to observe all the events of history as models for our blind imitation. The general principles are valid, but the working out must be achieved in terms which bear on our own times and which utilize our present-day means. The principle of congregational participation is valid. Its application may be different today, however, from its application in the middle ages.

In some churches in medieval times the congregation sang very little. Certain parts, such as the Kyrie, were intended to be variable in length to adapt to the action of the Mass. The schola sang these parts, therefore, since no congregation could be depended on to achieve the timing which was called for. The action could be interrupted after five Kyries, ten, or even twenty. The schola, alert and adaptable, handled the matter in most instances. The Gloria was usually sung by all present, but it was not always sung in all churches. The Credo was not used in any consistent fashion until a fairly late day . . . a time, moreover, when congregational participation was on the decline and the use of early polyphony on the rise. The Agnus Dei was not originally part of all Latin rites and only became established with the enforced application of the Roman rite to the entire western Church.

Today the Roman rite enjoys unprecedented uniformity in both application and practice. The intercommunication of the remotest corners of the world and the administrational [14] center at Rome make it possible to extend knowledge and techniques almost at will. Phonograph records and other pedagogical devices make available to persons in the most inaccessible areas the knowledge which is the fruit of the best minds of many generations. This means that we have at hand the knowledge and techniques which will enable the principle of congregational singing to be extended to a fuller application than would have been possible a few centuries ago. We have no right, then, to point at history with all its inconsistencies as the reason for adopting an indifferent attitude toward congregational singing.

The recent encyclical Sacrae Musicae Disciplina was seized upon by both proponents and opponents of the advancement of congregational singing as being an official sanction of their respective points of view. This merely proves once more that enthusiasm can interpret even the clearest statement with a coloration of personal viewpoints. Rome recognizes the propriety of both polyphonic settings of the Ordinary and congregationally designed ones. There is no reason to assume that this is equivalent to taking a dim view of the idea of congregational singing. Recognizing the value of polyphony is a practical attitude in the light of present unpreparedness for widespread congregational singing.

We wish to make a point of stating here that we are not discussing vernacular singing during Low Mass or similar functions. We are concerned with congregational singing of the High Mass, restricted by law to Latin.

II. The Nature of Participation

Some of those who do not wish to sacrifice their elaborate polyphonic masses to congregational participation hold that the word participation can have a broader meaning than is commonly accepted. They maintain that intelligent listening can be considered as participation of a sort.

This is true. It is, nevertheless, begging the question, for we are concerned with whether or not the congregation should participate in the singing, not merely the listening. To say that a congregation that habitually listens to the fine singing of a good choir is participating in the liturgy in the commonly accepted sense is simply not true. There are parts, such as the Gradual, the Alleluia, the Offertory, which are extended, meditative compositions, calling for attentive listening by congregation and those clergy on the altar who are permitted by their functions to listen. These are the very parts, however, which the average polyphonic choir will sing to some abridged formula in order to get to a more elaborate motet. This is an unfortunate commentary on the attitude of our "liturgical" choirmasters.

Many choirmasters insist that the congregation which has been given the short responses to sing is fulfilling its assigned role. This meager sop to the conscience will not do. This would reduce the role of the congregation to less than what would have been the norm in most medieval churches, according to our best information. In the light of what is possible today, we cannot admit that the silent congregations of recent years come anywhere near the humblest efforts of the middle ages. We have not only the means to do better; we have the obligation.

III. Congregational Music

Much verbiage has been expended on the nature of the music which is to be given to the congregation. A large segment of our professional musicians and liturgists are in favor of passing by the Gregorian repertoire in favor of something less "strange" to the layman's ear. Chant, with its free rhythm, its modality and its characteristic neume-groups seems, to these people, to be too much for the average man-on-the-street to grasp.

It is true that one cannot begin immediately on a program of full and varied chant Ordinaries, but the difficulties involved are largely illusions in the mind of the musician. This may seem to be paradoxical, for at first reflection, we would think that the professional musician would find the chant easiest, and the completely inexperienced and untrained layman find it most difficult. This does not happen to be true.

[16] Most of the difficulties which appear to the musician are involved with preparation for learning and singing the chant. The approach to some of the chants of the Ordinary will require serious study, reflection and familiarization, all of which takes time and effort. This leaves an impression of general difficulty on the average choirmaster which will color his approach to teaching chant to a congregation. What he does not see at first is that the chant is taught the congregation by rote, not by note, and that his own careful rendition of the chant as a model for imitation will be the best guarantee of sound congregational singing. The most important elements of the performance: style, tempo, articulation, phrasing — these are not matters of deciphering notation, because they surpass the power of notation to express them. They must be soundly prepared by the group which is to exemplify the chant for the congregational imitation. Then they will be transmitted as integral elements of the music the congregation will learn.

Some choirmasters maintain that the rhythmic difficulties of the chant will cause trouble at the outset. They say that the free alternation of groups of two and three, the various long notes (pressus, oriscus, etc.) and the placing of the rests will be too difficult to learn. This is not so. The congregation does not have to learn the technical differences and distinctions in Gregorian theory in order to sing. It does not have to learn 18th century counterpoint in order to sing a Bach chorale. Natural human musicality, mimicry and mnemonics will enable any average group to learn the music of a chant Ordinary in a relatively short time.

If a choirmaster pleads that his congregation sings chant badly, we can only tell him that he must supply a better quality to be imitated.

IV. Modern Music

We cannot overlook the possibility that our contemporary composers can provide music of liturgical character and [17] congregational design. The principal problem here, of course, is quality of the music, as most of our contemporary church composers already understand the basic principles of congregational style, the populo parts of liturgical compositions, the proportional limits of the music which must be sung within the Mass schedule, etc. It would be entirely unfair and regressive to wish to exclude the better contemporary efforts from practice in our churches.

We must recognize, however, the small proportion of high-quality music to the enormous amount produced and marketed. Here, as elsewhere, all that glitters is certainly not gold. Much has been written to serve the liturgy which is not of a standard worthy of its intent.

Unfortunately, the congregation is largely at the mercy of one or two persons in regard to choice of music. Frequently our choirmasters select the somewhat neutral ground of the "people's mass", a type of composition which fills an important role in developing congregational singing of the Ordinary, as the basis for initationg [sic] work in that direction. This kind of music is useful, but it should be supplanted by something better as soon as possible. In many instances it would be possible to go to better music at the very outset.

At a recent informal session held at the McLaughlin and Reilly rehearsal hall in Boston during the 1956 NCMEA convention, the question of contemporary musical trends was made the object of discussion, inquiry and serious listening. A number of important composers were present, and the group of participants in the discussion included both conservatives and the avant-garde. The general attitude seemed to be one of respect for contemporary efforts to bring into the scope of church music those technical developments of our day which have been accepted in serious music outside the church. This respect ranged from simple efforts toward broad-mindedness to full enthusiasm. It would seem then, from the cross-section of church musicians of all types who evinced interest in this discussion, that our contemporary church music is beginning to rise above the sterility of the [18] Caecilian school to something with more positive qualities to recommend it. This is a beginning, and when enough music of this kind has been written and sung, we may legitimately hope to find a few masterpieces taking their places in the repertoire of our times.

At the present writing, however, the great corpus of congregationally suitable music is that of chant. Not enough contemporary music is known or sung to establish any works as "standard" or "classical" for liturgical use. The liturgical music program, then, in adapting to the needs of congregational participation, must consider chant to be the first source of material, and this is true in the large parish as much as in the small one.

V. Conclusions

To those who have tried the experiment, the use of chant congregationally is no doubtful matter, providing the training of the choirmaster has been sufficient to reproduce the chant style accurately and artistically. For those who remain in doubt, we may point to the example of France, where, although barren areas exist, the fruit of years of work and training is beginning to produce singing congregations who perform the chant with fervor and artistry. The author has had the happy experience of working with one such congregation which knew a number of chant settings by heart, so that once the choir had begun the Kyrie, the people followed on to the end of the mass with their own enthusiastic and full-voiced singing.

Many of the difficulties met with by the average choirmaster should be attributed to his own inadequacies, not to the inability of the congregation to handle chant. Unless such purely fundamental notions as the elementary rhythm, the compound rhythm, the articulation of consonants (a very important part of chant style in the Solesmes method), the soft attack of the word-final ictus, the thetic crescendo which often links two incises, the deliberate broadening of movement when the melody leaps, the avoidance of haste in descending passages . . . unless all these are an assimilated [19] unit in the subconscious of the choirmaster, he will not succeed in making the congregation enjoy its participation and sense its artistic role.

Only by having confidence in the work undertaken can a choirmaster reach his goal, and this applies to the development of congregational singing. No half-way measures will do . . . no "gradual" education of the people. A strong and direct program will bear fruit, whereas uncertainty and mental reservations will produce only failure. Good intentions are not enough, of course, but given everything else, their lack will make success impossible.

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Source: J. Robert Carroll, "Cold Facts on the Congregational Singing of Gregorian Chant," The Gregorian Review 3, no. 8 (May-June 1956): 11–19.

The Liturgical Year in the Organ Chorals of Johann Sebastian Bach (1956)

[3] We do not today possess the large number of Preludes which Johann Sebastian Bach composed on the Choral tunes which were sung in his time throughout the liturgical year. Only 160 or so have been preserved for us. These have been grouped in sets or collections by Bach himself:

1) The Little Organ Book, composed at Cothen between 1717 and 1725 and intended for "the beginning organist who has need of examples for the performance of all kinds of chorals, and for the development of ability in the study of the pedal". It includes forty-five chorals, generally somewhat short ones, classed according to the order of the liturgical year.

2) The twenty-one Chorals published in 1739 by their composer, in the third part of the "Clavierubung (keyboard exercises), containing various preludes on the tunes of the Catechism and other tunes, for organ".

3) The so-called "Leipzig Chorals", pieces of various dates which were published after Bach's death by his son-in-law, Altnikol.

4) The six Chorals (transcriptions of Cantata airs) published in 1746, and the Variations on a Christmas Carol published in 1747, which makes up a total of ninety-one Chorals.

The approximately sixty-nine othrs [sic] (since many are of doubtful authenticity) make up a kind of reliquary of diverse pieces which seem to be youthful works and fantasies . . . a whole corpus of music which Bach did not think should be included in the collections described above.

[4] In the following commentary we shall not concern ourselves with the historical or technical study of the Bach Chorals. This has been done many times already. Beginning with the facts given by Spitta, Schweitzer, Pirro, Dufourcq and others, however, it may not be entirely amiss to emphasize somewhat the properly religious aspect of the hymn-paraphrases, taken for the most part from the psalms and hymns of the Church, determine their meaning, and in this way discover the relationships which they maintain, sometimes with the letter and more often with the spirit of certain Gregorian melodies which are sung on the principal feasts of the Liturgical Year.

I. Expectation of the Saviour [sic] of Mankind

We know that the forty-five Chorals of the Little Organ Book were arranged by Bach himself according to the order of the liturgical seasons. This order, abandoned by the older Peters editions, was fortunately restored in more recent classical editions. We shall continually cite that of Marcel Dupre, published by Bornemann's of Paris (D.B.).

The collection opens with a prelude on Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland (D.B., Book VII, No. 1). It is short, but full of grandeur. The counterpoint is rich, severe in some places, and it rises up like the ringing of solemn bells. The choral-tune is in the upper part, considerably altered and fitted to the rhythm of the rest. A person familiar with the Monastic Antiphonary will not, however, have any difficulty in recognizing the melody which the Benedictine Order sings during Christmastide at the hymn for the Little Hours:

Actually, we have here an adaptation in the present Office of a melody which the manuscripts assign to the hymn Veni [5]

Redemptor Gentium, the text of which goes back to the fourth century, since its attribution to Saint Ambrose (340-397) is solidly established. Dom Gueranger gave the Latin text of it in his Annee Liturgique, together with a French translation, for the fourth Wednesday of Advent, presenting it as a "hymn of preparation for Christmas".

In fact, for many centuries this hymn was sung at First Vespers of Christmas, and it was not until 1568 that, with the reform of the Roman Breviary ordered by St. Pius, this Veni Redemptor Gentium disappeared from liturgical use. The Milanese Church, at least, still keeps it and still sings it at the Lucernarium of First Vespers of the Nativity of Our Lord.

Even during the Middle Ages this hymn was translated into vernacular languages, particularly in Germany, where we find it to have been in wide use with a number of variants. During the same period, the original melody underwent changes of melodic and rhythmic nature so that the translation of the hymn by Luther at the beginning of the sixteenth century and the choral to which it was sung from that time on, far from being a "creation", represent, on the contrary, the result of a long and slow evolution.

The liturgical reform of St. Pius V, then, had this paradoxical result, that the hymn of St. Ambrose, henceforth ignored in Catholic countries, came to meet with good fortune in Germany. Protestant organists, in fact, were supposed to paraphrase the hymn tune before it was to be sung by the congregation. Fritz Munger gives a very full list of these Preludes: Choralbearbeitungen fur Orgel, Barenreiter Verlag, 1952, p. 101-102, and the magazine Orgue et Liturgie (No. 19, Paris, 1953), has made a number of them available to us, from Michael Praetorius (1571-1621) to Wilhelm-Friedemann Bach (1710-1784).

[6] The melody set by Praetorius, Scheidt (1624) and their contemporaries takes the following form:

We see that in spite of two hesitant alterations, this theme remains very faithful to the original melody. In contrapuntal developments, however, the laws of tonality become more and more demanding. A characteristic example of these compromises between the older modality and classic tonality is found in the five verses of Scheidt on the Hymn de Adventu Domini. The first and fourth fragments of the tune, altered in verses one, three and four, return, in the soprano of the second verse and the bass of the fifth, to the regular form of the older melody.

With the second half of the seventeenth century, however, we usually find the melody to be more ornate:

Adopted and harmonized in four parts by Scheidt in his Tablaturbuch of 1650, it has often been ornamented, particularly by Nikolaus Bruhns (1665-1697) [,] Johann Pachelbel (1653-1706), Dietrich Buxtehude (1637-1707), Johann Gottfried Walther (1684-1748), etc. . . .

These chorals merit more than a simple mention, but we must now return to those of Johann Sebastian Bach.

[7] It has been often said that Bach occupies a central position in the history of music. With an extraordinary capacity for work, he was able to summarize and bring to perfection a long tradition inherited from the musicians of western Europe (Northern Germany, Central Germany, Italy, France, etc. . . .), but he was a man who perceived the musical problems of his time and who oriented the entire future of his art. With him, in fact, equal temperament became solidly established, and tonality became a dominant element. We have an example of this orientation in the way in which he treated the choral Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland.

On this theme Bach wrote two cantatas (Nos. 61 and 62), five Chorals for organ, a Fuguetta (or rather a piece "in fugue" on the first phrase of the choral tune) which probably belongs to the group of youthful works (D.B., Book XII, No. 8), the Choral already mentioned in the Little Organ Book [sic] VII, No. 1), [sic] and the three great Chorals of the Leipzig collection (D.B., Book IX, Nos. 9, 10, and 11).

In the little fugue and in the Cothen Choral, Bach is still faithful to the melody as used by Buxtehude, Pachelbel or Walther, but in the cantatas and Leipzig chorals, he changes the intonation in such a way that the melody is now based on the key of G minor:

On this "alteration of a single note" Andre Pirro has written some eloquent pages. For him it is not merely "because of the simple turn of the modulations" that Bach chose this "characteristic variant". "We may be permitted, on the contrary, to see here that by utilizing this change of the basic tune in his composition, he sensed that it was possible [8] to bring a more profound interpretation to this Advent hymn."

"Although the poetry invokes the coming of the Saviour [sic] of the Gentiles, the music seems to predict even from this time, by this phrase of pathos, the sufferings which await Him among men and the death which He must undergo. It is a characteristic of Bach's religion to feel a need to express both Christ's birth, which is the beginning of his redeeming work, and His death on the cross, which marks the achievement of His mission". This is a fine thought, but does it correspond with the hidden intention of the composer? Does not this smack of over-systematization? This seems more in question, too, as Bach was not the first to have used this particular alteration. We find proof of this in the Choral of Bruhns we have just cited.

Moreover, if it be proved that by using this altered interval Bach sought "to bring Calvary into the aspects of the cradle from the very outset", he would still have been merely expressing in music a doctrine expounded frequently by the Fathers of the Church, particularly by Leo the Great, who, on Christmas day, seeks to contemplate in this "nova nativitas" the beginning of our redemption. Then, too, does not St. Ambrose take the same perspectives in verses five and six of the Veni Redemptor Gentium? "Having proceded from the Father, He returns to the Father; having descended into Hell, He now takes His place on the throne of God" . . . "Co-eternal Son, equal to the Father, triumph over our mortal flesh; by Thine immutable Power, strengthen our weak natures".

Regardless of all this, what is undeniably clear in listening to the three Leipzig Chorals is the nobility and grandeur of the style, as well as the amplitude of the figurations.

This characteristic of noble style is noticeable even in the eleventh Choral [BWV 661], which from a chronological point of view, seems earlier than the other two. Structurally speaking, it merely carries out a principle which was a favorite of [9] Pachelbel, which consists of preparing each entry of the choral tune with imitative passages in diminished values. Here, however, the counterpoint is more vigorous. It calls for the ensemble of foundation stops and mixtures of the organ, whereas each phrase of the theme appears in the pedal, enriched by the addition of reeds. This Chorale-Prelude is most effective when played in a somewhat moving tempo, although not to the point of precipitation, while one should take care to rpeserve strictly the inexorable rhythm which flows through the whole piece.
Choral No. 10 [BWV 660] of the same collection is rarely performed by organists. It deserves, however, a better fate. Perhaps the reason for its lesser popularity is the disconcerting aspect, at first glance, of a rarely used disposition of the parts. Two parts, one in the pedal and the other in the manual, cross and interplay in a continuous and close dialogue. A third part enters periodically to assert the choral tune at the octave, but in a greatly extended and ornamented form. This trio form obliges one to forego the habitual 16 foot pedal, as the two crossing parts must be sounded in the same register, although with two different timbres. We no longer have the brilliance and amplitude of sound found up to this point (D.B., VII, No. 1, and IX, No. 2). This movement is more tranquil, the parts become more discreet, and the choral rises up like an earnest prayer, almost in sadness, to the sole Saviour [sic] of the world.

This interpretation of the Advent Choral attains its fullness in Prelude No. 9 [BWV 659] of this Leipzig set (D.B., IX, No. 9). This is the masterpeice of all the preludes on Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland and one of the summits of the whole corpus of organ Chorals.

Over a steady and solemn bass, the middle voices do not merely prepare the entries of the tune with imitations and ornaments in conformity with usual practice. They also "sing" in a markedly more flexible movement than that of the bass, and their interest grows continually. Note in particular the measures just before the final entry of the tune. [10] Finally, in the upper voice the melody of the choral soars up with supreme tranquility, ornamented with arabesques in very pure and peaceful lines like the upsurge of a prayer.

Such a happy result is not exceptional in the immense output of Johann Sebastian Bach. We could mention a number of others, and each would be a revelation of the extent of his musical genius, and still more of the quality of his soul. Bach held a vigorous faith, as nobody would seriously be able to deny, but there is more to it than that. He must be numbered among those who "know what it is to wait in expectation", who desire and anticipate the return of their Master.

These masterpieces have within them something of mystery, and these few commentaries cannot pretend to have clarified this point. They aid us, however, in better understanding why these Chorals do not seem out-of-place in the plan of the Advent liturgy. Technically we are far from the early melody and its flexible and lively rhythm and the resonance of the second Gregorian mode. Nevertheless, deeper affinities remain, for experience has proved that at First Vespers of Christmas, this music well fits the spiritual atmosphere produced by this wonderful Office. As early as the fourth century, this vulnerable hymn which we have examined evoked it with simplicity and grandeur:

Come, Redeemer of all Peoples; 
Be known as the Son of the Virgin; 
Let the whole world be amazed; 
Such a birth is due to a God.

Even now Thy cradle brightly shines; 
In the night a new light has glowed forth; 
No darkness can obscure it; 
It is the permanent splendor of faith!

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Source: Dom Antoine Bonnet, "The Liturgical Year in the Organ Chorals of Johann Sebastian Bach," The Gregorian Review 3, no. 1 (January-February 1956): 3–10.