Benjamin Britten | dual personalities

Tag: Benjamin Britten

Come to rifle Satan’s fold

by chuckofish

Twas much,
that man was
made like God before,
But that God should
be like man
much more

–John Donne (1572-1631)

Lest we forget.

This little babe, so few days old,
Is come to rifle Satan’s fold;
All hell doth at his presence quake.
Though he himself for cold do shake,
For in this weak unarmèd wise
The gates of hell he will surprise.

With tears he fights and wins the field;
His naked breast stands for a shield;
His battering shot are babish cries,
His arrows looks of weeping eyes,
His martial ensigns cold and need,
And feeble flesh his warrior’s steed.

His camp is pitchèd in a stall,
His bulwark but a broken wall,
The crib his trench, hay stalks his stakes,
Of shepherds he his muster makes;
And thus, as sure his foe to wound,
The angels’ trumps alarum sound.

My soul, with Christ join thou in fight;
Stick to the tents that he hath pight;
Within his crib is surest ward,
This little babe will be thy guard.
If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy,
Then flit not from this heavenly boy.

Christmas vacation is coming to an end. Sigh. It’s back to work on Tuesday. Still can’t believe how 2017 raced by. Here’s hoping you foil thy foes with joy in 2018.

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December 12, 2012

This little babe

by chuckofish

I was listening to Benjamin Britten’s Ceremony of Carols while I drove to work yesterday. It is good stuff. There is even a harp.

But I cannot hear any of it without being instantly transported back to my high school days in the school choir in the second soprano section. One of my friends was every bit as funny as, say, Ellen DeGeneres. Funnier really. She could do an “opera voice” better than anyone, and many of these Britten tunes really begged for it. She could really get us second sopranos going–and by that I mean giggling, not singing. I’m sure we were the bane of several super-serious choir directors we tortured over the years.

This little Babe, so few days old,
Has come to rifle Satan’s fold.
All hell doth at his presence quake
Tho’ he Himself with cold doth shake.
For in this weak unarmed wise
The gates of hell he will surprise.

Oh. Yes.

Here is a sample of Benjamin Britten’s Ceremony of Carols sung by the boys’ choir of St. Paul’s Cathedral. It was written, of course, for trebles (boys), but we girls did pretty well, giggling aside.