I Sing a Song of the Saints of God

 

For me when I think about All Saints’ Day, I am simultaneously flooded with two things: memories of those saints in our midst who have already died and scores of musical examples that beautifully address death, eternal life, grief, and the like. I could spend days browsing YouTube and relishing in choral music appropriate for this observance. When it comes to corporate worship, however, the two hymns that have been part of our worship here for many years are “For All the Saints” and “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.”

 

While the two hymns both have British roots, they are pretty different in terms of style. “For All the Saints” comes from the high Anglican tradition and composer Ralph Vaughan Williams’ musical pen. The name of the tune, Sine Nomine (Latin for ‘without a name’), is thought to reference the many saints whose names are known only God. I’ve sung this hymn on All Saints’ Day for as long as I can remember, and I can only guess at how many memorial services I’ve played the hymn for. This All Saints’ Day is no different.

 

On the other hand, “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God” is newer to me. I first learned it when I was a church musician for an Episcopal church in Florida, and it will also open our service this year. It has a decidedly folk feel with a sing-song-y melodic line. Carl Daw explains some of this hymn’s origins: “As a mother with three small children, the author would frequently create hymns for them on various topics, usually at their request, such as ‘make a hymn for a picnic’ or ‘make a hymn for a foggy day.’ [This] hymn was written for All Saints’ Day in order to emphasize that many saints led seemingly ordinary lives and that there are still saints living among us today. And, most tellingly, each stanza ends with an affirmation of the singer’s intention to ‘be one too’.” Check out the three-stanza text in its entirety:

 

I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true,
who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.
And one was a doctor, and one was a queen, and one was a shepherdess on the green:
they were all of them saints of God, and I mean, God helping, to be one too.

They loved their Lord so dear, so dear, and God’s love made them strong;
and they followed the right, for Jesus’ sake, the whole of their good lives long.
And one was a soldier, and one was a priest, and one was slain by a fierce wild beast:
and there’s not any reason, no, not the least, why I shouldn’t be one too.

They lived not only in ages past; there are hundreds of thousands still;
the world is bright with the joyous saints who love to do Jesus’ will.
You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea, in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea;
for the saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too.

 

Even beyond the distinctively British words and phrases (“one was a queen,” “a shepherdess on the green,” “meet them in lanes,” “or at tea,” etc.), the bit that always catches my attention the most is “one was slain by a fierce wild beast.”

 

What fierce wild beasts have slain the saints in your lives? Cancer? Dementia? Mental illness? An accident? I can certainly name special saints in my life that fall into each of those categories. My grandfather and my aunt are two of my saints that I think of each All Saints’ Day. Alcoholism and a stroke were the beasts that slayed them.

 

This year, however, we have a couple of other “beasts” that have taken many of our saints from this earthly life. The Coronavirus and the cruelty of racial violence are two elements of 2020 that will surely go down in the history books. I will certainly take a moment to remember the many thousands of people worldwide who have succumbed to these beasts this year, and I know you will too. Blessed be their memory.