Avon (Oliver Holden)

From ChoralWiki
Revision as of 12:15, 29 July 2016 by Claude T (talk | contribs) (Text replace - "XML file is zipped into MXL one." to "{{MXL}}")
Jump to navigation Jump to search

Music files

L E G E N D Disclaimer How to download
ICON SOURCE
File details.gif File details
Question.gif Help
  • (Posted 2015-09-18)  CPDL #36828:  Icon_pdf.gif Icon_snd.gif MusicXML.png
Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2015-09-18).   Score information: Letter, 1 page, 67 kB   Copyright: Public Domain
Edition notes: Oval note edition, as written in 1806. The other four stanzas of Doddridge's hymn added below. MusicXML source file(s) in compressed .mxl format.
  • (Posted 2015-09-18)  CPDL #36827:  Icon_pdf.gif
Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2015-09-18).   Score information: 7 x 10 in (landscape), 1 page, 51 kB   Copyright: Public Domain
Edition notes: Note shapes added (4-shape). The other four stanzas of Doddridge's hymn added below.

General Information

Title: Avon
First Line: Arise, my tenderest thoughts, arise
Composer: Oliver Holden
Lyricist: Philip Doddridge

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SacredHymn   Meter: 88. 88 (L.M.)

Language: English
Instruments: A cappella

{{Published}} is obsolete (code commented out), replaced with {{Pub}} for works and {{PubDatePlace}} for publications.

Description: First published in The Sacred Minstrel, 1806, p. 59. Words by Philip Doddridge, 1755, in five stanzas.

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

1. Arise, my tenderest thoughts, arise,
To torrents melt my streaming eyes;
And thou, my heart, with anguish feel
Those evils which thou canst not heal.

2. See human nature sunk in shame;
See scandals poured on Jesus' name;
The Father wounded through the Son,
The world abused, the soul undone.

 

3. See the short course of vain delight
Closing in everlasting night;
In flames, that no abatement know,
Though briny tears forever flow.

4. My God, I feel the mournful scene;
My bowels yearn over dying men;
And fain my pity would reclaim
And snatch the fire-brands from the flame.

 

5. But feeble my compassion proves;
And can but weep, where most it loves;
Thy own all-saving arm employ,
And turn these drops of grief to joy.