Those who accuse Rossini's "Stabat Mater" of a fervor more theatric than religious, will find the same faults in Parker's work, along with much that is purely ecclesiastical. Though his sorrow is apt to become petulance, there is much that is as big in spirit as in handling. The work is frequently Mendelssohnian in treatment. An archaism that might have been spared, since so little of the poem was retained, is the sad old Händelian style of repeating the same words indefinitely, to all neglect of emptiness of meaning and triteness. Thus the words "Pars mea, Rex meus" are repeated by the alto exactly thirteen times! which, any one will admit, is an unlucky number, especially since the other voices keep tossing the same unlucky words in a musical battledore.
The especially good numbers of the work (which was composed in 1892, and first produced, with almost sensational success, in 1893) are: the magnificent opening chorus; the solo for the soprano; the large and fiery finale to Part I.; the superb tenor solo, "Golden Jerusalem," which is possibly the most original and thrilling of all the numbers, is, in every way, well varied, elaborated, and intensified, and prepares well for the massive and effective double chorus, "Stant Syon Atria," an imposing structure whose ambition found skill sufficing; an alto solo of original qualities; and a finale, tremendous, though somewhat long drawn out. Of this work, so careful a critic as W.J. Henderson was moved to write:
"His melodic ideas are not only plentiful, but they are beautiful, ... graceful and sometimes splendidly vigorous.... There is an a cappella chorus which is one of the finest specimens of pure church polyphony that has been produced in recent years.... It might have been written by Hobrecht, Brumel, or even Josquin des Pres. It is impossible to write higher praise than this.... The orchestration is extraordinarily ... rich. As a whole ... the composition ... may be set down as one of the finest achievements of the present day."
And Philip Hale, a most discriminant musical enthusiast, described the chorus "Pars Mea" as:
"A masterpiece, true music of the church," to which "any acknowledged master of composition in Europe would gladly sign his name.... For the a cappella chorus there is nothing but unbounded praise.... Weighing words as counters, I do not hesitate to say that I know of no one in the country or in England who could by nature and by student's sweat have written those eleven pages.... I have spoken of Mr. Parker's quasi-operatic tendency. Now he is a modern. He has shown in this very work his appreciation and his mastery of antique religious musical art. But as a modern he is compelled to feel the force of the dramatic in religious music.... But his most far-reaching, his most exalted and rapt conception of the bliss beyond compare is expressed in the language of Palestrina and Bach."
In September, 1899, the work was produced with decisive success in London, Parker conducting.
Besides this, there are several secular cantatas, particularly "King Trojan," which contains a singable tune for Trojan with many delicate nuances in the accompaniment, and a harp-accompanied page's song that is simply ambrosial. Then there is Arlo Bates' poem, "The Kobolds," which Parker has blessed with music as delicate as the laces of gossamer-spiders.
His latest work is devoted to the legend of St. Christopher, and displays the same abilities for massive and complex scoring whenever the opportunity offers. On the other hand, the work discloses Parker's weaknesses as well, for the libretto drags in certain love episodes evidently thought desirable for the sake of contrast and yet manifestly unnecessary to the story. The character of the queen, for instance, is quite useless, and, in fact, disconcerting. The love scene between the king and queen reminds one uncomfortably of Tristan and Isolde, while a descending scale constantly used throughout the work in the accompaniment incessantly suggests the "Samson and Delilah" of Saint-Saëns.
In spite of flaws, however,—flaws are to be had everywhere for the looking,—Parker's work has its fine points. The struggle between the demons and the singers of the sacred Latin Hymn has made excellent use of the Tannhäuser effect. The Cathedral scene shows Parker's resources in the massive use of choruses to be very large. The barcarolling billows of the river are ravishingly written, and the voice of the child crying out is effectively introduced. The song the giant Christopher sings through the storm is particularly superb.