The thirty-second and thirty-third chapters of Deuteronomy contain one of the Bible's most sombre lyrics. Moses, whose life has been devoted to the welfare of the Israelites, who has for forty years struggled to overcome in them the demoralization incident to centuries of bondage, sings there a parting song to his people, for they are about to enter into possession of the promised land, which happiness is denied him. Could a sadder picture be imagined than this good man, so little confident in the fruits of his past teaching, exhorting the Israelites for the last time?
It would make my sketch tiresome to burden it with the less important musical events chronicled in sacred history, like the songs of Deborah, Hannah, etc., so I shall skip four centuries, the musical exercises of which seem to have been marked by no extraordinary occurrences, unless we accept the fall of Jericho as a musical phenomenon.
At the end of this period we come upon David, who might appropriately be called the Isaiah of our art, for his songs voice the conception of a full, free, resourceful musical fruition, unmeasured as yet by even the greatest composers who have given them settings. I. Samuel xvi. makes the first mention of David's musical capacity,—viz., "And Saul said unto his servants, Provide me now a man that can play well, and bring him to me.... And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took a harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him." David's first recorded "psalm of thanksgiving" is in II. Samuel xxii. Its power, vivid imagery, and conception of omnipotence have never been surpassed by the mind of man. It is musically suggestive and inspiring, but a composer capable of grasping its import might be awed into silence, for our art is still feeble to attempt such flights. A careful reading of verses five to eighteen, inclusive, will yield an understanding of my feelings in regard to this song.
There is in much earnest music a substratum of "ecclesiastical tone," for the deeper strings of cultivated human responsiveness are attuned to worship. Our relation as creatures to God, the Creator, is the prime factor in inducing this condition, but next to it Biblical song most influences the trend of high musical aspiration. These influences are insidious, and their fruits do not necessarily betoken design on the part of the composer, who may be not at all devout; but he, having imbibed, in common with civilized mankind, the spirit of religion, it permeates, and to some extent characterizes, his highest efforts.
As long as man continues to write music David will not cease to be one of the moving levers in shaping his conceptions. This ecclesiastical tone, when present, does not usually manifest itself in themes, nor in their contrapuntal development, but in the harmonic outlines upon which these elements rest. David is supposed to have written the larger number of the one hundred and fifty Psalms that have come down to us, and it may be interesting to trace some of the musical colors suggested by his more clearly manifested moods. They mirror the deepest recesses of his God-fearing and paternal heart.
The thirteenth Psalm is a wail of sorrow, which is saved from sinking to despair by David's memory of past mercies. This latter element is analogous in this case to the major harmonies in our modern minor keys, which lend suggestions of coming brightness to our darkest tone pictures.
In the nineteenth Psalm, which begins, "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth his handiwork," we find a spirit of contented contemplation, for which these quoted lines strike the key-note, and announce the theme with no uncertain sound.
The twenty-third consists of pastoral similes, which follow each other with quiet but ever-increasing intensity. It is as full of restful confidence and self-contained energy as the slow movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. It is too sustained in its sequential progress to afford the contrasts so essential to composers of mediocre ability, which may account for the desecrations of which it has been the subject. Nothing so tests the calibre of a musician as logically growing continuity. This Psalm would have found an ideal setting in Bach's lofty serenity.
The spirit of exultation in the praise of the Almighty, which is present in even the sadder moments of David's song, flashing light through its doubts and sorrows, breaks into effulgent glory in the ninety-eighth Psalm, which has probably received more attention from composers than any other Biblical text. It has inspired much wonderful music, but a misconception of the spirit which prompted the last verse has become traditional.
The psalmist did not invoke the floods to clap their hands, and the hills to be joyful together before the Lord, in order to propitiate God, but to express the joy he felt in anticipating the advent of Him who should "judge the people with equity." To be consistent, the composer should set this sentiment in broad grandeur, as the culmination of his musical scheme.