Hymn-fanciers everywhere are mourning the death of the Rt Rev Timothy Dudley-Smith, and with him the agreeable trivia that the author of the venerable-sounding “Tell out, my soul” and “Lord, for the years” was still in business. Metre, rhyme and a thumping tune for an organ might sound Victorian to our ears, but neither text, from 1961 and 1967 respectively, is in the least archaic.
They are as much a product of the ‘Sixties – when 94 per cent of people identified with a church – as “Twist and Shout”. They’ve even aged rather better than some Beatles lyrics.
Dudley-Smith belonged to the Church of England old school that sent muscular Cambridge-educated clergy to do good works among the urban poor. Its almost-totally-vanished adherents were identified by decent hymns and dog collars, their Church un-contradictorily Established and Protestant. (The late Queen was a subscriber.) Dudley-Smith’s Church Times obituary records: “When a Roman Catholic dignitary was given a standing welcome by the Church of England’s General Synod, Bishop Timothy remained respectfully but firmly seated with arms folded; here, he felt, an ecclesiastical line had been crossed, and he was not afraid to sit alone.”
His reserve might have been on grounds of taste. UK Catholics protected their cultural distinctiveness in the wake of the Second Vatican Council by composing egregiously bad hymns. It’s difficult to make sophisticated theology rhyme, unless you’re Newman, and “Faith of our fathers”-type sentiments were no longer quite the thing; a lot of liturgical music made up for facile messages with complicated tunes that nobody can remember verse-to-verse.
Lucy Lethbridge’s summer arts recommendations gave me licence to return to John Betjeman’s glorious and weird BBC documentaries, and with them his thoughts on trains, old buildings – and hymns.
“There are two things you need for a jolly good hymn. The first is a set of words that expresses the mood or sentiment of the worshipper. The second – and perhaps even more important – is a good tune…a simple popular melody.”
Dudley-Smith wasn’t musically-minded, but he wrote clear, meaningful words that totally unmusical people could sing with conviction.
This isn’t a question of sounding Victorian: most of us can manage “Shine Jesus Shine” loudly and tunefully, even if we don’t think we want to.
Dana’s “Lady of Knock” is a 1980s ballad with Marian lyrics that are quite fun to bawl. (At least the first dozen times. Waiting in the morning drizzle for Pope Francis to arrive in Knock in 2018, it was the only entertainment the compères could offer. By the time he arrived Our Lady herself must have been thoroughly cheesed off with it.)
Almost any hymn sounds good sung by people who know what they’re doing; the best hymns make it seem like everybody knows what they’re doing.
With parish choirs and music groups on their holidays, congregations are free or cursed to sing for themselves for a few weeks. Catholics will mostly go without and get home 20 minutes early.
The Tablet religion magazine is available in most good bookshops and bookstalls in churches.