Pentatonic, mode 3 (I II III — V VI —)
play
Young ladies all, attention give,You that in wicked pleasures live;One of your sex the other dayWas call’d by death’s cold hand away.
Young ladies all, attention give,
You that in wicked pleasures live;
One of your sex the other day
Was call’d by death’s cold hand away.
This lesson she has left for you,To teach the careless what to do;To seek Jehovah while you liveAnd everlasting honors give.
This lesson she has left for you,
To teach the careless what to do;
To seek Jehovah while you live
And everlasting honors give.
Her honored mother she addrest,While tears were streaming down her breast;She grasped her tender hands and said,“Remember me when I am dead.”
Her honored mother she addrest,
While tears were streaming down her breast;
She grasped her tender hands and said,
“Remember me when I am dead.”
She called her father to her bed,And thus in dying anguish said:“My days on earth are at an end,My soul is summoned to attend;
She called her father to her bed,
And thus in dying anguish said:
“My days on earth are at an end,
My soul is summoned to attend;
Before Jehovah’s awful bar,To hear my awful sentence there;And now, dear father, do repent,And read the holy testament.”
Before Jehovah’s awful bar,
To hear my awful sentence there;
And now, dear father, do repent,
And read the holy testament.”
TheSacred Harpascribes the song to John S. Terry and dates it 1869. Terry was a singing-school teacher of Georgia and later lived in Alabama. The singing-school teacher took for his warning song the ‘Lord Lovel’ tune type that has been used for many secular ballads. Among them are ‘Barbara Allen’, Sharp, i., 195, tune O; ‘Gypsy Laddie’, Sharp, i., 237, tune F; ‘Come all Ye Fair and Tender Ladies’, Sharp, ii., 135, tune P. For other tunes of the same type see ‘Dulcimer’ in this collection.
Hexatonic, mode 3 A (I II III — V VI VII)
play
I came to the place where the lone pilgrim lay,And pensively stood by the tomb,When in a low whisper I heard something say,“How sweetly I sleep here alone.”
I came to the place where the lone pilgrim lay,
And pensively stood by the tomb,
When in a low whisper I heard something say,
“How sweetly I sleep here alone.”
“The tempest may howl and the loud thunder roar,And gathering storms may arise,Yet calm is my feeling, at rest is my soulThe tears are all wiped from my eyes.
“The tempest may howl and the loud thunder roar,
And gathering storms may arise,
Yet calm is my feeling, at rest is my soul
The tears are all wiped from my eyes.
“The cause of my master compelled me from home,I bade my companions farewell;I blessed my dear children who now for me mourn,—In far distant regions they dwell.
“The cause of my master compelled me from home,
I bade my companions farewell;
I blessed my dear children who now for me mourn,—
In far distant regions they dwell.
“I wandered an exile and stranger from home,No kindred or relative nigh;I met the contagion and sank to the tomb,My soul flew to mansions on high.
“I wandered an exile and stranger from home,
No kindred or relative nigh;
I met the contagion and sank to the tomb,
My soul flew to mansions on high.
“O tell my companion and children most dear,To weep not for me now I’m gone;The same hand that led me through scenes most severe,Has kindly assisted me home.
“O tell my companion and children most dear,
To weep not for me now I’m gone;
The same hand that led me through scenes most severe,
Has kindly assisted me home.
“And there is a crown that doth glitter and shine,That I shall for evermore wear;Then turn to the Savior, his love’s all divine,All you that would dwell with me there.”
“And there is a crown that doth glitter and shine,
That I shall for evermore wear;
Then turn to the Savior, his love’s all divine,
All you that would dwell with me there.”
The text is attributed, by the 1911 editor of theSacred Harp, to B. F. White, original compiler of that book. He wrote it “on the lone prairie in Texas”, while standing “at the grave of a friend who once lived in Georgia”. InFolksongs of MississippiHudson gives a variant text from oral tradition and tells of a locallegend as to its source which agrees in the main with that given in theSacred Harpwhich book, I suspect, was the source of the Mississippi legend.
The tune, variously claimed in the fasola books, is identical with the ‘Braes o’ Balquhidder’. See Gilchrist, JFSS, viii., 77. Other derivatives of the same tune are ‘Sinner’s Invitation’, ‘Florence’, and ‘Orphan Girl’ in this collection. InThe Musical Quarterly, xxii., No. 2, I have shown the relationship between this tune and Stephen Foster’s ‘Linda Has Departed’.
Pentatonic, mode 3 (I II III — V VI —)
play
“No home, no home”, plead a little girl,At the door of a princely hall,As she trembling stood on the polish’d step,And lean’d on the marble wall.
“No home, no home”, plead a little girl,
At the door of a princely hall,
As she trembling stood on the polish’d step,
And lean’d on the marble wall.
“My father, alas, I never knew”,And a tear dimmed her eyes so bright;“My mother sleeps in a new-made grave,’Tis an orphan begs tonight”.
“My father, alas, I never knew”,
And a tear dimmed her eyes so bright;
“My mother sleeps in a new-made grave,
’Tis an orphan begs tonight”.
Her clothes were thin and her feet were bare,But the snow had covered her head;“O! give me a home”, she feebly said,“A home and a bit of bread”.
Her clothes were thin and her feet were bare,
But the snow had covered her head;
“O! give me a home”, she feebly said,
“A home and a bit of bread”.
The night was dark and the snow fell fast,But the rich man closed his door;And his proud face frowned as he scornfully said:“No room, no bread for the poor”.
The night was dark and the snow fell fast,
But the rich man closed his door;
And his proud face frowned as he scornfully said:
“No room, no bread for the poor”.
The morning dawned, and the orphan girlStill lay at the rich man’s door;But her soul had fled to a home above,Where there’s room and bread for the poor.
The morning dawned, and the orphan girl
Still lay at the rich man’s door;
But her soul had fled to a home above,
Where there’s room and bread for the poor.
The Cooper edition of theSacred Harpgives the note: “Music by Eld. C. G. Keith, Nov. 1, 1906.” See Henry, JAFL, vl., 66f, for further references as to its occurrence. The tune is a derivative of ‘The Braes o’ Balquidder’. See ‘Lone Pilgrim’ for references to related tunes in this collection.
Heptatonic aeolian; mode 4 a + b (I II 3 IV V 6 7)
play
Review the palsied sinner’s caseWho sought for help in Jesus;His friends conveyed him to the placeWhere he might meet with Jesus.A multitude were thronging roundTo keep them back from Jesus;But from the roof they let him down,Before the face of Jesus.
Review the palsied sinner’s case
Who sought for help in Jesus;
His friends conveyed him to the place
Where he might meet with Jesus.
A multitude were thronging round
To keep them back from Jesus;
But from the roof they let him down,
Before the face of Jesus.
Thus fainting souls by sin diseased,There’s none can save but Jesus;With more than plague or palsy seizedOh! help them on to Jesus.Oh! Savior, hear their mournful cry,And tell them thou art Jesus;Oh! speak the word, or they must die,And bid farewell to Jesus.
Thus fainting souls by sin diseased,
There’s none can save but Jesus;
With more than plague or palsy seized
Oh! help them on to Jesus.
Oh! Savior, hear their mournful cry,
And tell them thou art Jesus;
Oh! speak the word, or they must die,
And bid farewell to Jesus.
Now let them hear thy voice declare,Thou sin-forgiving Jesus,That thou didst die to hear their prayer,And give them help in Jesus.The great Physician now is near,The sympathizing Jesus;He speaks the drooping heart to cheer,Oh! hear the voice of Jesus.
Now let them hear thy voice declare,
Thou sin-forgiving Jesus,
That thou didst die to hear their prayer,
And give them help in Jesus.
The great Physician now is near,
The sympathizing Jesus;
He speaks the drooping heart to cheer,
Oh! hear the voice of Jesus.
All glory to the dying Lamb,I now believe in Jesus;I love the blessed Savior’s name,I love the name of Jesus.And when to that bright world aboveWe rise to see our Jesus,We’ll sing around the throne of loveThe blessed name of Jesus.
All glory to the dying Lamb,
I now believe in Jesus;
I love the blessed Savior’s name,
I love the name of Jesus.
And when to that bright world above
We rise to see our Jesus,
We’ll sing around the throne of love
The blessed name of Jesus.
The author of the text is given as Wm. Hunter. The tune is a variant of ‘London Pride’, Sharp,Morris Dances, Set vii, No. 6. Its proper mode would seem to be dorian and its correct signature therefore one flat.
Pentatonic, mode 4 (I II — IV V — 7)
play
Mercy, O thou son of David,Thus poor blind Bartimeus pray’d;Others by thy grace are saved,Now to me afford thine aid.
Mercy, O thou son of David,
Thus poor blind Bartimeus pray’d;
Others by thy grace are saved,
Now to me afford thine aid.
Money was not what he wanted,Though by begging used to live;But he asked and Jesus grantedAlms which none but he could give.
Money was not what he wanted,
Though by begging used to live;
But he asked and Jesus granted
Alms which none but he could give.
“Lord, remove this grievous blindness;Let mine eyes behold the day.”Straight he saw and, won by kindness,Followed Jesus by the way.
“Lord, remove this grievous blindness;
Let mine eyes behold the day.”
Straight he saw and, won by kindness,
Followed Jesus by the way.
Tune attributed to J. M. Day, a Georgian. Doubt as to the correctness of this source is cast by the appearance of both tune and text in theChristian Lyreof 1830, No. 4. Variants are ‘Invocation’, GOS 67, and ‘Lord Revive Us’, PB 198. TheSacred Harpeditor evidently looked upon this tune as one ina-minor, whereas it is probably a dorian melody withf-sharp as its tonic, and should have also ad-sharp in its key signature.
Heptatonic aeolian, mode 4 a + b (I II 3 IV V 6 7)
play
Hail! ye sighing sons of sorrow,Learn from me your certain doom;Learn from me your fate tomorrow,Dead perhaps laid in your tomb.See all nature fading,dying, silent all things seem to pine;Life from vegetation flying,Brings to mind the mould’ring vine!
Hail! ye sighing sons of sorrow,
Learn from me your certain doom;
Learn from me your fate tomorrow,
Dead perhaps laid in your tomb.
See all nature fading,
dying, silent all things seem to pine;
Life from vegetation flying,
Brings to mind the mould’ring vine!
See in yonder forest standingLofty cedars, how they nod!Scenes of nature how surprising,Read in nature, nature’s God.Whilst the annual frosts are croppingLeaves and tendrils from the trees,So, our friends are early dropping,We are like to one of these.
See in yonder forest standing
Lofty cedars, how they nod!
Scenes of nature how surprising,
Read in nature, nature’s God.
Whilst the annual frosts are cropping
Leaves and tendrils from the trees,
So, our friends are early dropping,
We are like to one of these.
Hollow winds about me roaring,Noisy waters round me rise,Whilst I sit my fate deploring,Tears fast streaming from mine eyes.What to me is autumn’s treasure,Since I know no earthly joy?Long I’ve lost all youthful pleasure,Time must youth and health destroy.
Hollow winds about me roaring,
Noisy waters round me rise,
Whilst I sit my fate deploring,
Tears fast streaming from mine eyes.
What to me is autumn’s treasure,
Since I know no earthly joy?
Long I’ve lost all youthful pleasure,
Time must youth and health destroy.
The tune was recorded, from oral tradition evidently, by William Caldwell (of eastern Tennessee) in the 1830’s. His source was doubtless some variant of ‘Banks of Inverary’. Cf. JFSS, viii., 198.
The unique opening melodic phrase is to be found also in ‘Young Beeham’ or ‘Ship’s Carpenter’, Cox 528. Another tune variant in the fasola environment is ‘Sons of Sorrow’, OSH 332.
Hexatonic, mode 4 A (I II — IV V VI 7)
play
As on the cross the Savior hungAnd wept and bled and died,He pour’d salvation on a wretchThat languish’d at his side.
As on the cross the Savior hung
And wept and bled and died,
He pour’d salvation on a wretch
That languish’d at his side.
His crimes with inward grief and shame,The penitent confess’dThen turn’d his dying eyes on ChristAnd thus his prayer address’d.
His crimes with inward grief and shame,
The penitent confess’d
Then turn’d his dying eyes on Christ
And thus his prayer address’d.
The poem, given in full under ‘Converted Thief (B)’, is attributed to Stennett. William Moore of Tennessee, compiler ofColumbian Harmony, lays claim to the tune, and probably did record it from oral sources. Found also SOH 9, OSH 44, GOS 140. The tune is a member of the ‘Hallelujah’ family. See the song with that title in this collection.
Hexatonic, mode 3 A (I II III — V VI VII)
play
Afflictions, though they seem severe,In mercy oft are sent;They stopp’d the prodigal’s careerAnd caus’d him to repent.
Afflictions, though they seem severe,
In mercy oft are sent;
They stopp’d the prodigal’s career
And caus’d him to repent.
Although he no relenting felt,Till he had spent his store;His stubborn heart began to melt,When famine pinched him sore.
Although he no relenting felt,
Till he had spent his store;
His stubborn heart began to melt,
When famine pinched him sore.
“What have I gained by sin?” he said,“But hunger, shame, and fear?My father’s house abounds with bread,While I am starving here.
“What have I gained by sin?” he said,
“But hunger, shame, and fear?
My father’s house abounds with bread,
While I am starving here.
“I’ll go and tell him all I’ve doneAnd fall before his face;Unworthy to be called his son,I’ll seek a servant’s place.”
“I’ll go and tell him all I’ve done
And fall before his face;
Unworthy to be called his son,
I’ll seek a servant’s place.”
His father saw him coming back;He saw and ran and smiled,And threw his arms around the neckOf his repenting child.
His father saw him coming back;
He saw and ran and smiled,
And threw his arms around the neck
Of his repenting child.
“Father, I’ve sinned, but O forgive!”“Enough,” the father said;“Rejoice, my house, my son’s alive,For whom I mourned as dead.
“Father, I’ve sinned, but O forgive!”
“Enough,” the father said;
“Rejoice, my house, my son’s alive,
For whom I mourned as dead.
“Now let the fatted calf be slain;Go spread the news around;My son was dead, but lives again,Was lost, but now is found.”
“Now let the fatted calf be slain;
Go spread the news around;
My son was dead, but lives again,
Was lost, but now is found.”
’Tis thus the Lord his love reveals,To call his children home;More than a father’s love he feels,And bids the needy come.
’Tis thus the Lord his love reveals,
To call his children home;
More than a father’s love he feels,
And bids the needy come.
The tune is a member of the ‘Roll Jordan’ family which is described under the song by that name in this collection. The ‘Tennessee’ tune’s resemblance to Foster’s ‘Susanna’ is evident. The melody, or some near relative of it, may well have furnished Foster with his inspiration in composing the latter. It had been sung widely in America for at least fifty years before the Pittsburgh composer published his minstrel song. (See the author’s article ‘Stephen Foster’s Debt to American Folk-Song’,The Musical Quarterly, xxii., No. 2.)
That the ‘Tennessee’ tune was “unwritten music” in the South, and therefore free for all, is indicated by the many claimants to its authorship; Chapin, J. Robertson, L. P. Breedlove, William C. Davis, and William Walker were among them. In various forms and with different texts the tune is found also, CHI 84 (published in 1805), SKH 23, GCM 134, SOH 28, GOS 229, HOC 114, WP 96, TZ 94, SOC 78, SOC 81, SOC 145, SOH 105, OSH 501, SKH 23. The second part of the tune is similar to ‘Jamaica’, Sharp,Country Dances, Set IV, No. 12.
Hexatonic, mode 3 b (I II III IV V VI —)
play
The time is swiftly rolling on,When I must faint and die,My body to the dust return,And there forgotten lie,And there forgotten lie,And there forgotten lie,My body to the dust return,And there forgotten lie.
The time is swiftly rolling on,
When I must faint and die,
My body to the dust return,
And there forgotten lie,
And there forgotten lie,
And there forgotten lie,
My body to the dust return,
And there forgotten lie.
Through heats and colds I’ve ofttimes went,I’ve wandered in despair,To call poor sinners to repentAnd seek their Savior dear.
Through heats and colds I’ve ofttimes went,
I’ve wandered in despair,
To call poor sinners to repent
And seek their Savior dear.
My brother preachers, boldly speakAnd stand on Zion’s wall;Confirm the drunk, confirm the weakAnd after sinners call.
My brother preachers, boldly speak
And stand on Zion’s wall;
Confirm the drunk, confirm the weak
And after sinners call.
My loving wife, my bosom friend,The object of my love,The time’s been sweet I’ve spent with you,My sweet and harmless dove.
My loving wife, my bosom friend,
The object of my love,
The time’s been sweet I’ve spent with you,
My sweet and harmless dove.
My little children near my heartMy warm affections know.Fer each the path will I attend.O from them can I go?!
My little children near my heart
My warm affections know.
Fer each the path will I attend.
O from them can I go?!
O God, a father to them beAnd keep them from all harm,That they may love and worship TheeAnd dwell upon thy charm.
O God, a father to them be
And keep them from all harm,
That they may love and worship Thee
And dwell upon thy charm.
How often you have looked fer meAnd often seen me come;But now I must depart from theeAnd nevermore return.
How often you have looked fer me
And often seen me come;
But now I must depart from thee
And nevermore return.
My loving wife, don’t grieve fer me,Neither lament nor mourn;Fer I will with my Jesus be,And dwell upon his charm.
My loving wife, don’t grieve fer me,
Neither lament nor mourn;
Fer I will with my Jesus be,
And dwell upon his charm.
The tune is attributed in theHarp of Columbiato W. Atchley. It belongs to what I have called (Introduction,p. 14) the ‘Hallelujah’ type of melody. See ‘Hallelujah’ for other related spiritual tunes. A secular song using the same melodic formula is ‘Virginia Lover’, Sharp, ii., 150. The text of ‘Farewell’ is recorded from oral tradition and reproduced fromWhite Spirituals, 202. See ‘Hicks’ Farewell’ in this collection as to the authorship of the words.
Hexatonic mode 4, b (I II 3 IV V — 7)
play
Young people who delight in sin,I’ll tell you what has lately been:A woman who was young and fairDied in sin and deep despair.
Young people who delight in sin,
I’ll tell you what has lately been:
A woman who was young and fair
Died in sin and deep despair.
For the full text and much data as to the source and occurrence of this song, seeWhite Spirituals, 189-193. A tune variant is ‘Supplication’, in this collection. Another is ‘Lord Bateman’, SharpOne Hundred English Folksongs, No. 6.
Hexatonic, mode 1 A (I II III IV V VI —)
play
An’ Phareoh’s daughter went down to thee waterAn’ foun’ there thee beauteeful child,Among thee tall bushes thee reeds an’ thee rushesThee babee look’d sweetlee an’ smil’d.
An’ Phareoh’s daughter went down to thee water
An’ foun’ there thee beauteeful child,
Among thee tall bushes thee reeds an’ thee rushes
Thee babee look’d sweetlee an’ smil’d.
Recorded from singing of Miss Will Allen Dromgoole, Nashville, Tennessee, as she remembered it sung in 1890 by Mr. Tate, stage driver from Beersheba to Beersheba Springs on Cumberland Mountain in Tennessee. The unusual spelling is an attempt at reproducing the emphatic rhythmic pronunciation of Mr. Tate. The one stanza given above was all Miss Dromgoole remembered. The full text, however, was recorded by Mr. Fred Haun of Newport, Tennessee, from the singing of his mother, Mrs. Maggie Haun, and placed at my disposal by Miss Mildred Haun, his sister. This rather defective text is as follows:
The ladies were wending their wayAs Pharo’s daughter stepped down to the waterTo bathe in the cool of the day.Before it was dark she opened the arkAnd found the sweet infant was there.
The ladies were wending their way
As Pharo’s daughter stepped down to the water
To bathe in the cool of the day.
Before it was dark she opened the ark
And found the sweet infant was there.
She took him in pity and thought him so pretty;That made little Moses so glad.She called him her own, her beautiful son,And sent for a nurse that was near.
She took him in pity and thought him so pretty;
That made little Moses so glad.
She called him her own, her beautiful son,
And sent for a nurse that was near.
By the side of the river so clearThey carried that beautiful childTo his own tender mother, his sister and brother;Little Moses looked happy and smiled.
By the side of the river so clear
They carried that beautiful child
To his own tender mother, his sister and brother;
Little Moses looked happy and smiled.
His mother so good done all that she couldTo hear [rear?] him and teach him with care.Then away by the sea that was redStood Moses the servant of God.
His mother so good done all that she could
To hear [rear?] him and teach him with care.
Then away by the sea that was red
Stood Moses the servant of God.
While in him confided the deed [sea ?] was dividedWhile upward he lifted his rod.The Jews safely crossed while Pharo’s hostWas drounded in the water and lost.
While in him confided the deed [sea ?] was divided
While upward he lifted his rod.
The Jews safely crossed while Pharo’s host
Was drounded in the water and lost.
Then away by the mountain so highStood Moses with trembling an’ awe;With lightning and thunder, great signs and wonders,While God was giving the law.He wrote it down on two tables of stoneBefore he returned to the sky.
Then away by the mountain so high
Stood Moses with trembling an’ awe;
With lightning and thunder, great signs and wonders,
While God was giving the law.
He wrote it down on two tables of stone
Before he returned to the sky.
Then away on the mountain so highStood the last one he ever might see.While Isreal victorious, his hope was most gloriest,Would soon over Jordan be free.His neighbors did cease, he departed in peace,And rest-es in heaven above.
Then away on the mountain so high
Stood the last one he ever might see.
While Isreal victorious, his hope was most gloriest,
Would soon over Jordan be free.
His neighbors did cease, he departed in peace,
And rest-es in heaven above.
Pentatonic, mode 1 (I II — IV V VI —)
play
Poor mourning soul in deep distress,Just waken’d from a slumber,Who wanders in sin’s wilderness,Out of the condemned number.The thunder roars from Sinai’s mount,Fills him with awful terror;And he like nought in God’s account,All drown’d with grief and sorrow.
Poor mourning soul in deep distress,
Just waken’d from a slumber,
Who wanders in sin’s wilderness,
Out of the condemned number.
The thunder roars from Sinai’s mount,
Fills him with awful terror;
And he like nought in God’s account,
All drown’d with grief and sorrow.
Oh, woe is me that I was born,Or after death have being;Fain would I be some earthly worm,Which has no future being;Or had I died when I was young,Oh, what would I have given!Then might with babes my little tongue,Been praising God in heaven.
Oh, woe is me that I was born,
Or after death have being;
Fain would I be some earthly worm,
Which has no future being;
Or had I died when I was young,
Oh, what would I have given!
Then might with babes my little tongue,
Been praising God in heaven.
But now may I lament my case,Just worn away by trouble;From day to day I look for peace,But find my sorrow double.Cries Satan, “Desp’rate is your state,Time’s been you might repented,But now you see it is too late,So make yourself contented!”
But now may I lament my case,
Just worn away by trouble;
From day to day I look for peace,
But find my sorrow double.
Cries Satan, “Desp’rate is your state,
Time’s been you might repented,
But now you see it is too late,
So make yourself contented!”
How can I live, how can I restUnder this sore temptation,Fearing the day of grace is past,Lord, hear my lamentation!For I am weary of my life,My groans and bitter crying;My wants are great, my mind’s in strife,My spirit’s almost dying.
How can I live, how can I rest
Under this sore temptation,
Fearing the day of grace is past,
Lord, hear my lamentation!
For I am weary of my life,
My groans and bitter crying;
My wants are great, my mind’s in strife,
My spirit’s almost dying.
Without relief I soon shall die,No hope of getting better;Show pity, Lord, and hear the cryOf a distress-ed sinner.For I’m resolv-ed here to trustAt thy footstool for favor,Pleading for life, though death be just,Make haste, Lord, to deliver.
Without relief I soon shall die,
No hope of getting better;
Show pity, Lord, and hear the cry
Of a distress-ed sinner.
For I’m resolv-ed here to trust
At thy footstool for favor,
Pleading for life, though death be just,
Make haste, Lord, to deliver.
“Come, hungry, weary, naked soul,For such I ne’er rejected;My righteousness sufficient is,Though you have long neglected.Come, weary soul, for right you have,I am such soul’s protector;My honor is engaged to saveAll under this character.
“Come, hungry, weary, naked soul,
For such I ne’er rejected;
My righteousness sufficient is,
Though you have long neglected.
Come, weary soul, for right you have,
I am such soul’s protector;
My honor is engaged to save
All under this character.
“I came to seek, I came to save,I came to make atonement,I lived, I died, laid in the graveTo save you from the judgment.”By faith, my glorious Lord I see;Oh, how it doth amaze meTo see him bleeding on the tree,From death and hell to raise me.
“I came to seek, I came to save,
I came to make atonement,
I lived, I died, laid in the grave
To save you from the judgment.”
By faith, my glorious Lord I see;
Oh, how it doth amaze me
To see him bleeding on the tree,
From death and hell to raise me.
The above homespun text points to the rural preacher or revival song leader of the late eighteenth century as its source. It is a conversion story in dramatic form, the Savior, the Sinner and the Devil having parts in the drama.
The earliest known occurrence of the tune is in the Vermont book, Ingalls’Christian Harmonyof 1805, p. 77. In theSacred Harpof 1844, p. 89, it is found with a different text and is entitled ‘Church’s Desolation’. It is claimed there by J. T. White, and in theChristian Harmonyof 1866, by William Walker. Both were South Carolinians, from which territory Reed Smith recorded the tune in 1913 as one of the ‘Barbara Allen’ settings; SCB 130. This tune was probably adopted for ‘Church’s Desolation’ and for the ‘Barbara Allen’ ballad from the Scotch ballad ‘Wae’s me for Prince Charlie’. See Kennedy’sHandbook of Scottish Song, p. 20. The LondonErain the early 1860’s speaks of this as the “celebrated Jacobite song.” The ‘Prince Charlie’ of the song is Charles II of England. Hence the song, the text at least, is nearly 300 years old. The same tune is used also for ‘Geordie’,Last Leaves, p. 133; ‘Locks and Bolts’, Sharp, ii., 19; ‘Lazarus’, Sharp, ii., 30; an old Irish tune in Petrie, No. 363; ‘Johnny Fa’’, SMM, No. 62; and ‘Hynd Horn’, Motherwell, Appendix,Musick, No. 13.
The noted composer of hymn tunes, J. B. Dykes, was influenced by the ‘Prince Charlie’ melody in the building up of ‘Lindisfarne’; seeHymns Ancient and Modern, No. 156, second tune.
Hexatonic, mode 1 b (I II — IV V VI 7)
play
I sing a song which doth belongTo all the human race,Concerning death which steals the breathAnd blasts the comely face.Come listen all unto my callWhich I do make to day,For you must die as well as I,And pass from hence away.
I sing a song which doth belong
To all the human race,
Concerning death which steals the breath
And blasts the comely face.
Come listen all unto my call
Which I do make to day,
For you must die as well as I,
And pass from hence away.
No human power can stop the hourWherein a mortal dies;A Caesar may be great today,Yet death will close his eyes.Though some do strive and do arriveTo riches and renown,Enjoying health and swim in wealth,Yet death will bring them down.
No human power can stop the hour
Wherein a mortal dies;
A Caesar may be great today,
Yet death will close his eyes.
Though some do strive and do arrive
To riches and renown,
Enjoying health and swim in wealth,
Yet death will bring them down.
Though beauty grace your comely faceWith roses white and red,A dying fall will spoil it all,For Absalom is dead.Though you acquire the best attire,Appearing fine and fair,Yet death will come into the roomAnd strip you naked there.
Though beauty grace your comely face
With roses white and red,
A dying fall will spoil it all,
For Absalom is dead.
Though you acquire the best attire,
Appearing fine and fair,
Yet death will come into the room
And strip you naked there.
The princes high and beggars dieAnd mingle with the dust,The rich, the brave, the negro slave,The wicked and the just.Therefore prepare to meet thy GodBefore it be too late,Or else you’ll weep, lament and cry,Lost in a ruin’d state.
The princes high and beggars die
And mingle with the dust,
The rich, the brave, the negro slave,
The wicked and the just.
Therefore prepare to meet thy God
Before it be too late,
Or else you’ll weep, lament and cry,
Lost in a ruin’d state.
William Walker claims this song. See ‘Church’s Desolation’, a variant of the tune, for source references. See also ‘Sweet William and Lady Margery’ (Wyman and Brockway, p. 94) for a secular tune variant.
Hexatonic, mode 1 b (I II — IV V VI 7)
play
How condescending and how kindWas God’s eternal Son!Our mis’ry reach’d his heav’nly mindAnd pity brought him down.
How condescending and how kind
Was God’s eternal Son!
Our mis’ry reach’d his heav’nly mind
And pity brought him down.
When justice by our sins provoked,Drew forth its dreadful sword,He gave his soul up to the stroke,Without a murmuring word.
When justice by our sins provoked,
Drew forth its dreadful sword,
He gave his soul up to the stroke,
Without a murmuring word.
Here we behold his bowels roll,As kind as when he died;And see the sorrows of his soulBleed through his wounded side.
Here we behold his bowels roll,
As kind as when he died;
And see the sorrows of his soul
Bleed through his wounded side.
This was compassion like a God,That when the Savior knewThe price of pardon was his blood,His pity ne’er withdrew.
This was compassion like a God,
That when the Savior knew
The price of pardon was his blood,
His pity ne’er withdrew.
Now though he reigns exalted high,His love is still as great;Well he remembers Calvary,Nor let his saints forget.
Now though he reigns exalted high,
His love is still as great;
Well he remembers Calvary,
Nor let his saints forget.
Here let our hearts begin to melt,While we his death record,And with our joy for pardoned guilt,Mourn that we pierced the Lord.
Here let our hearts begin to melt,
While we his death record,
And with our joy for pardoned guilt,
Mourn that we pierced the Lord.
The words are attributed to Isaac Watts. I have supplied the second and third stanzas fromThe Olive Leaf, p. 129. The tune is from the eighteenth century; found also OSH 286, PB 38, HH 63, UHH 13. The tune’s frame is found with the text of ‘Good Morning, My Pretty Little Miss’, Sharp, ii., 90, also in ‘Ibby Damsel’, Sharp, ii., 137. I surmise that we have, in the last line of the second stanza above, the source of the negro spiritual refrain:
An’ he never said a mumblin’ word.
An’ he never said a mumblin’ word.
Pentatonic, mode 2 (I — 3 IV V — 7)
play
How lost was my condition,Till Jesus made me whole;There is but one PhysicianCan cure a sin-sick soul.Next door to death he found me,And snatch’d me from the grave,To tell to all around me,His wondrous pow’r to save.
How lost was my condition,
Till Jesus made me whole;
There is but one Physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul.
Next door to death he found me,
And snatch’d me from the grave,
To tell to all around me,
His wondrous pow’r to save.
The worst of all diseasesIs light compared with sin;On every part it seizes,But rages most within.’Tis palsy, plague, and fever,And madness, all combin’d;And none but a believerThe least relief can find.
The worst of all diseases
Is light compared with sin;
On every part it seizes,
But rages most within.
’Tis palsy, plague, and fever,
And madness, all combin’d;
And none but a believer
The least relief can find.
From men great skill professing,I thought a cure to gain;But this proved more distressingAnd added to my pain.Some said that nothing ail’d me.Some gave me up for lost;Thus every refuge fail’d me,And all my hopes were cross’d.
From men great skill professing,
I thought a cure to gain;
But this proved more distressing
And added to my pain.
Some said that nothing ail’d me.
Some gave me up for lost;
Thus every refuge fail’d me,
And all my hopes were cross’d.
At length this great Physician(How matchless is his grace!)Accepted my petitionAnd undertook my case.First gave me sight to view him,For sin my eyes had seal’d;Then bid me look unto him,I look’d, and I was heal’d.
At length this great Physician
(How matchless is his grace!)
Accepted my petition
And undertook my case.
First gave me sight to view him,
For sin my eyes had seal’d;
Then bid me look unto him,
I look’d, and I was heal’d.
A dying, risen Jesus,Seen by the eye of faith,At once from anguish frees usAnd saves the soul from death.Come, then, to this Physician,His help he’ll freely give;He makes no hard condition,’Tis only—look and live.
A dying, risen Jesus,
Seen by the eye of faith,
At once from anguish frees us
And saves the soul from death.
Come, then, to this Physician,
His help he’ll freely give;
He makes no hard condition,
’Tis only—look and live.
This tune is found also in GOS, No. 227. A remake is in OSH 176. It is ‘Banks of Sweet Dundee’, Sharp i., 399. Related also to ‘Pinery Boy’, Shoemaker, 262; and ‘Virginian Lover’, Sharp, ii., 150. The negro song ‘Sin-Sick Soul’, SS, No. 66, is based textually and melodically on the above song.
Hexatonic, mode 3 A (I II III — V VI VII)
play
When I was young of tender years,My Savior did arrest me;I then was fill’d with many fears,But Satan still did tempt me.He told me that I was too youngTo leave my earthly pleasure;That I might live till I was old,And serve God at my leisure.
When I was young of tender years,
My Savior did arrest me;
I then was fill’d with many fears,
But Satan still did tempt me.
He told me that I was too young
To leave my earthly pleasure;
That I might live till I was old,
And serve God at my leisure.
Again the spirit came one dayWith his almighty power,Which caused me to forsake my wayAnd tremble every hour;And he caused me to weep and mourn,Saying, Lord Jesus, save me,If mercy thou canst me afford,And to thy glory raise me.
Again the spirit came one day
With his almighty power,
Which caused me to forsake my way
And tremble every hour;
And he caused me to weep and mourn,
Saying, Lord Jesus, save me,
If mercy thou canst me afford,
And to thy glory raise me.
When Jesus heard the rebel cry,He sent his kind compassion;Down at his feet my soul did lie,There pleading for a blessing.My heart was filled with tenderness.My mouth was filled with praises,While Abba, Father, I did cry,And glory to my Savior.
When Jesus heard the rebel cry,
He sent his kind compassion;
Down at his feet my soul did lie,
There pleading for a blessing.
My heart was filled with tenderness.
My mouth was filled with praises,
While Abba, Father, I did cry,
And glory to my Savior.
B. F. White, compiler of theSacred Harp, is given as the composer. It is dated 1842. The text is supplied fromGood Old Songs, No. 154. A secular setting is ‘Three Crows’, Davis, p. 562, tune “P”. Both ‘Look Out’ and ‘Three Crows’ are adaptations of ‘Ye Banks and Braes’, or ‘Bonnie Doon’, see Kennedy,Handbook of Scottish Song, p. 27. InChurch Harmony, p. 134, we find the ‘Bonnie Doon’ tune in its original form under the little ‘Star of Bethlehem’. A variant tune in this collection is ‘’Tis a Wonder’.
Pentatonic, mode 3 (I II III — V VI —)
play
Young people all attention giveAnd hear what I shall say;I wish your souls with Christ to live,In everlasting day.I want you to go to that bright world,To dwell with saints forever there.
Young people all attention give
And hear what I shall say;
I wish your souls with Christ to live,
In everlasting day.
I want you to go to that bright world,
To dwell with saints forever there.
TheSacred Harpgives but one stanza of this ballad. The rest of the text is to be found inZion Songster. The tune is widely used among the secular ballads. See ‘Barbara Allen’, Sharp, i., 183; ‘Geordie’, Sharp, i., 240; ‘False Young Man’, Sharp, ii., 52; ‘Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor’, Smith, 115; ‘True Lover’s Farewell’, Sharp, ii., 114; ‘Lizzie Wan’, Sharp, i., 89; and ‘Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard’, Sharp, i., 164 and 166.
Pentatonic, mode 3 (I II III — V VI —)
play
One day while in a lonesome grove,Sat o’er my head a little dove;For her lost mate began to coo,Which made me think of my mate too.
One day while in a lonesome grove,
Sat o’er my head a little dove;
For her lost mate began to coo,
Which made me think of my mate too.
Ah! little dove, you’re not alone,For I, like you, can only mourn;I once, like you, did have a mate,But now, like you, am desolate.
Ah! little dove, you’re not alone,
For I, like you, can only mourn;
I once, like you, did have a mate,
But now, like you, am desolate.
Consumption seized my love severeAnd preyed upon her one long year,Till death came at the break of day,And my poor Mary he did slay.
Consumption seized my love severe
And preyed upon her one long year,
Till death came at the break of day,
And my poor Mary he did slay.
Her sparkling eyes and blooming cheeksWithered like the rose and died;The arms that once embraced me roundLie mould’ring under the cold ground.
Her sparkling eyes and blooming cheeks
Withered like the rose and died;
The arms that once embraced me round
Lie mould’ring under the cold ground.
But death, grim death, did not stop here;I had one child, to me most dear;He, like a vulture, came againAnd took from me my little Jane.
But death, grim death, did not stop here;
I had one child, to me most dear;
He, like a vulture, came again
And took from me my little Jane.
But, bless the Lord, his word is given,Declaring babes are heirs of heaven.Then cease, my heart, to mourn for Jane,Since my small loss is her great gain.
But, bless the Lord, his word is given,
Declaring babes are heirs of heaven.
Then cease, my heart, to mourn for Jane,
Since my small loss is her great gain.
I have a hope that cheers my breast,To think my love has gone to rest;For while her dying tongue could move,She praised the Lord for pardoning love.
I have a hope that cheers my breast,
To think my love has gone to rest;
For while her dying tongue could move,
She praised the Lord for pardoning love.
Shout on, ye heavenly pow’rs above,While I this lonesome desert rove;My master’s work will soon be done,And then I’ll join you in your song.
Shout on, ye heavenly pow’rs above,
While I this lonesome desert rove;
My master’s work will soon be done,
And then I’ll join you in your song.
O hasten on that happy day,When I must leave this clod of clay,And soar aloft o’er yon blest plainAnd there meet Mary and my Jane.
O hasten on that happy day,
When I must leave this clod of clay,
And soar aloft o’er yon blest plain
And there meet Mary and my Jane.
The song is attributed in theSocial Harpto Wm. C. Davis. The first stanza was evidently inspired by the lines in the traditional English ballad entitled ‘Giles Collins’, Sharp, i., 196, which reads:
Look away, look away, that lonesome doveThat sails from pine to pine;It’s mourning for its own true loveJust like I mourn for mine.
Look away, look away, that lonesome dove
That sails from pine to pine;
It’s mourning for its own true love
Just like I mourn for mine.
Four recently recorded (1917 and 1918) variants of the ‘Newberry’ tune, with one stanza of text each are in Sharp, ii., 197f. See also JAFL, xxv., 276. ‘Lonesome Dove’, Thomas, 162, has the same text but a different tune. ‘Heavenly Dove’ inthis collection is a variant tune, but it is more closely related to the ‘Barbara Allen’ tune in Sharp, i., 183ff. ‘Newberry’ belongs to the ‘Lord Lovel’ type of tune mentioned in the Introduction,p. 14. Other melodies of the same type are listed under ‘Dulcimer’ in this collection.
Pentatonic, mode 3 (I II III — V VI —)