| OUR CHURCH replaced its ageing stock of hymn books last year, and I joined fellow members of the congregation in rejoicing. It seemed money, though a great deal of it, well spent. We now have Complete Anglican Hymns Old and New (Kevin Mayhew Publishers, 2000): attractive, sturdily bound, and good for many years’ service.
The process of selecting the book was diligent and thorough. Consultation included the PCC, the choirmaster, and choristers, and we drew on the experiences of other churches where the book had already come into use.
Yet I came away from the first occasion when the new books were used with a feeling bordering on dismay. We had started with one of my favourites: “Hills of the North, rejoice”, written in the 19th century by Charles Edward Oakley. I did not really need to look at the book, so familiar was I with this old stalwart. But something did not seem right about the second line of the first verse. Instead of “Rivers and mountain-spring”, we were being expected to sing “Echoing songs arise”.
There followed a root-and-branch revision of the original hymn, for reasons that, to me, are not immediately obvious. Then I noticed that the authorship credit was accompanied by the word “adapted”.
The rest of the service proceeded without me, in spirit at least, as I leafed through the book, finding ever more disquieting examples of alteration. I returned to the matter in hand only when the final hymn was announced, another tried-and-trusted regular: “God is working his purpose out”. We were not asking how we might increase “The brotherhood of all mankind”, however, but “Harmony in the human race”.
THE REVISIONS come broadly into four categories, three of which I can — just about — accept. First, there is the modernisation of language, sometimes consistently, but by no means always so. “Thee”s, “Thou”s and “Thine”s do not impair the hymns particularly, and their modern replacements do not improve them significantly.
Second, there are militaristic tones in some hymns. And why not? There is a struggle between good and evil, and hymns are part of the armoury. Nevertheless, there might just be an acceptable degree of protectionism in replacing “Onward, Christian soldiers” with “pilgrims”. If so, then why not also “Pilgrims of Christ, arise”?
The most extensive demilitarised zone I encountered was in “For all the saints”, where “fortress” became “refuge”, “soldiers” became “servants”, and “strife is fierce” became “road is long”.
Third, there are gender issues to resolve. Almost all references to “man” are excised; mankind” becomes “humankind”.
I reject the right of anybody to change, in “Hark! the herald angels sing”, “Born that man no more may die” into “Born that we . . .” And “Born to raise the sons of earth” into “Born to raise us from the earth”. It is not political correctness; it is wrong.
Finally, there is the gratuitous tampering of dozens of the alterations, which not only have no justification, but also deliberately dilute or distort the original message. In “We plough the fields, and scatter”, “The winds and waves obey Him” somehow transmutes into “He fills the world with beauty”; and how can the new version say “accept the gifts we offer”, when the old one states “no gifts have we to offer”?
I HAVE since turned to the foreword of this hymn book. It is a justification — but also, in some respects, a celebration — of the “tradition” of the “long and honourable history” of the “critical scrutiny and rewriting of established texts”.
I do not have anything against such a tradition. Times and mores change, and the old and venerated must sometimes give way to the new and dynamic. What I do have a problem with is the unfounded belief that change for no reason is justified — otherwise, I should welcome the intervention of some modern artist in re-clothing the Laughing Cavalier in a natty Savile Row suit, and I most certainly do not.
This book has been produced by a team of four doubtless good and well-meaning people: a “compiler” has been supported by a “liturgical adviser”, a “theological editor”, and a “publisher”. The first two have written many of the new hymns in the book, and the last two are responsible for the majority of the alterations, and have in many cases claimed copyright for the new versions.
What a pity that they did not heed the words of John Wesley in his foreword to the Collection of Hymns for the Use of the People Called Methodists in 1780. Having thanked the gentlemen who reprinted his and his brother’s hymns, he writes: “they are perfectly welcome to do so, provided they print them just as they are. But desire that they would not attempt to amend them so . . . that we may no longer be accountable either for the nonsense or for the doggerel of other men.”
I have expressed my concern to the leaders of my church, and they either agree with my sentiments, or shrug their shoulders and say that such an investment cannot be reversed — these are the books that will be in use for at least a generation.
The problem is not confined to this book: there are plenty of examples in other hymn books on the market. Perhaps the lesson should be learned that scrutiny needs to include close reference to all occasions where the dreaded “alt.” or “adapted” appears.
The other evening, I was at a service on the other side of the country. The congregation has just invested a large sum in a new set of hymn books . . . Caveat emptor.
Dr Keith Hamnett is a Tutor in Modern Foreign Languages at Edge Hill University, Lancashire, and at the Open University.
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