Keeping in tune

John L Bell reflects on the history of singing during worship in the Church of Scotland.

THE history of our Presbyterian heritage of church music is not widely known.

So it comes as a surprise to many to discover that until the end of the 19th century, we seldom sang hymns, were hesitant about the value of church organs and ambivalent regarding choirs. The Reformation regarded the ‘people’s part’ in services as largely to do with singing psalms, often not very well and at one time to only twelve tunes.

As time went on the number of tunes increased, and paraphrases of scripture were sung. But not until 1898 did the Church of Scotland have an ‘official’ collection of texts to sing. It was entitled The Church Hymnary, and has had three successors, in 1927, 1973 and 2005.

The first books were largely comprised of material already sung by other English language traditions, with scant attention to Scottish texts and what seemed like an embargo on Scottish tunes. But the advent of these books encouraged the practice of congregational rehearsals of the new music, a tradition long deserving of resurrection.

In the 1960s, three major changes affected church music in Scotland. The first was the discontinuation of sol-fah notation which adversely affected many choirs. The second was the popularisation of the guitar over the piano. The third was the appearance of styles of song which in text and tune differed from ‘traditional’ hymns. Lord of the Dance by Sydney Carter was one of several popular religious songs not included in the 1973 Hymnary; nor were Taizé Chants which some regarded as vain repetitions (unlike the ubiquitous Threefold Amen.)

Later, rhythmic challenges came with songs such as Shine Jesus Shine. These required a degree of syncopation which some musicians regarded a medical procedure they would rather undergo. And then from the nations to which we had sent surplus hymnals came songs such as We are Marching in the Light of God which ‘don’t really work on the organ.’

We can either regard these phenomena as threats to our tradition, or as the means by which we can experience variety in song and discover new spiritual perceptions, particularly when we sing hymns from different cultures.

To say that people don’t like new hymns, is untrue; every old hymn was once new. The acceptance of what is different is entirely dependent on how it introduced.

Several years ago a woman stopped me in Princes Street to tell me of the ‘great new tradition’ in her church of singing the metrical psalms unaccompanied. And soon after the publication of CH4, a church member from the east coast wrote of how the Mexican hymn, When we are living had proven itself of profound value at a recent funeral. And as for singing the occasional Latin text, a friend of mine advise: “If you can say cafe latte, you can sing Jubilate.”