Sweet Prospect (Stephen Jenks)

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• (Posted 2016-04-29)  CPDL #39447: 

Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2016-04-29).   Score information: Unknown, 1 page, 75 kB   Copyright: Public Domain

Edition notes: Four-part version; counter part written by B. C. Johnston, 2016. Note shapes added (4-shape). All eight stanzas of Newton's hymn included.

• (Posted 2016-04-29)  CPDL #39446:  MusicXML

Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2016-04-29).   Score information: Letter, 1 page, 71 kB   Copyright: Public Domain

Edition notes: Three-part version. Oval note edition, as written in 1805. All eight stanzas of Newton's hymn included.

• (Posted 2016-04-29)  CPDL #39445: 

Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2016-04-29).   Score information: 7 x 10 inches (landscape), 1 page, 72 kB   Copyright: Public Domain

Edition notes: Three-part version. Note shapes added (4-shape). All eight stanzas of Newton's hymn included.

General Information

Title: Sweet Prospect
First Line: How tedious and tasteless the hours
Composer: Stephen Jenks
Lyricist: John Newton

Number of voices: 3vv   Voicing: STB
  Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: Sacred   Meter: 88. 88 (L.M.)

Language: English
Instruments: A cappella

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Description: First published in The Delights of Harmony - Norfolk Compiler, 1805, for three parts: Treble-Tenor-Bass. Words, by John Newton, 1779, Hymn 46 of Book 1, in eight stanzas.

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Original text and translations

English text How tedious and tasteless the hours, When Jesus no longer I see; Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flowers, Have lost all their sweetness with me. The mid–summer sun shines but dim, The fields strive in vain to look gay; But when I am happy in Him, December’s as pleasant as May. His name yields the richest perfume, And sweeter than music his voice; His presence disperses my gloom, And makes all within me rejoice:

I should, were he always thus nigh, Have nothing to wish or to fear; No mortal so happy as I, My summer would last all the year. Content with beholding his face, My all to his pleasure resigned; No changes of season or place, Would make any change in my mind: While blessed with a sense of his love, A palace a toy would appear; And prisons would palaces prove, If Jesus would dwell with me there.

Dear Lord, if indeed I am thine, If thou art my sun and my song; Say, why do I languish and pine, And why are my winters so long? O drive these dark clouds from my sky, Thy soul–cheering presence restore; Or take me unto thee on high, Where winter and clouds are no more.