ABSTRACT
fifteenth-sixteenth centuries In organ loft Both loud and soft We sing and play, On Sunday and holiday, Tunefully, happily Praising in song With joy day-long, Till the Choir doth ring Like birds in Spring To our sweet singing. To wood and string Our words chiming, We stand in the middle: Gittern and fiddle, Viol and lute, Citole and flute, And little bells dangling With such gay jangling— All these and psaltery Strive for sweet mastery. When that music dies, Then do arise In worship and wonder From chancel under, Mellow yet strong In chant and plainsong, Voices whose notes Like doves from their cotes Reach roof and rafter And Heaven after. The organ swelling, God’s glory telling, Next in full voice Doth cry ‘Rejoice.’ Then to this blending Our own pipes lending, Anthem we set And gay motet, Till all God’s ways Ring loud with bis praise. Strings of the dulcimer Like threads of gossamer Tremble most bright In twilight and candlelight. Hands of the blowers, Working like mowers, Like threshers in valley Or slaves in a galley, Move ever faster For music their master. Then all together Our strength we gather In rood-loft and choir; And louder, higher, In sweet accord, We send to the Lord From string and wood-note, From pipe and from throat Of men and boys, One joyful noise!
