Pasch (Peter Foggitt)

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• (Posted 2025-01-12)  CPDL #83374:     

Editor: Peter Foggitt (submitted 2025-01-12).   Score information: Letter, 48 pages, 634 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes:

General Information

Title: Pasch
Composer: Peter Foggitt
Lyricist: Swinburne et al^{create page}
Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB
Genre: Sacred, Anthem

Language: English
Instruments: Organ

First published: 2020
Description: SATB with divisi. Text: Swinburne, and the Bible

Original text and translations

English text

adapted from the poetry of Algernon Charles Swinburne,
as printed by Caroline Webb

Behold my servant, whom I uphold; mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth. (Is. 42.1)
Away with him, away with him, crucify him. (John 19.15)
And he bearing his cross went forth. (John 19.17)

They pierced my hands and my feet; I may tell all my bones :
they stand staring and looking upon me. (Ps. 22.17)

Hath he not sent us hunger? who hath cursed
Spirit and flesh with longing? filled with thirst
Their lips who cried unto him? who bade exceed
The fervid will, fall short the feeble deed,
Bade sink the spirit and the flesh aspire,
Pain animate the dust of dead desire,
And life yield up her flower to violent fate? (Anactoria)

Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by?
behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow...
wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of his fierce anger.
From above he hath sent fire into my bones...
he hath made my strength to fall,
the Lord hath delivered me into their hands,
from whom I am not able to rise up. (Lam. 1.12-14)

When Jesus... saw his mother,
and the disciple standing by, whom he loved,
he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son!
Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! (John 19.24)

O all fair lovers about the world,
There is none of you, none, that shall comfort me.
My thoughts are as dead things, wrecked and whirled
      Round and round in a gulf of the sea;
And still, through the sound and the straining stream,
Through the coil and chafe, they gleam in a dream,
The bright fine lips so cruelly curled,
      And strange swift eyes where the soul sits free. (The Triumph of Time)

And Jesus cried with a loud voice, and gave up the ghost. (Mark 15.37)

One of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side,
and forthwith came there out blood and water. (John 19.26-27)

All thine the new wine of desire,
      The fruit of four lips as they clung
Till the hair and the eyelids took fire,
      The foam of a serpentine tongue,
The froth of the serpents of pleasure,
      More salt than the foam of the sea,
Now felt as a flame, now at leisure
      As wine shed for me. (Notre-Dame des Sept Douleurs)

And the veil of the temple was rent in twain. (Mark 15.38)

The Lord hath done that which he had devised;
he hath fulfilled his word: he hath thrown down, and hath not pitied.
He hath led me, and brought me into darkness,
but not into light. (Lam 2.17, 3.2)

O Love's lute heard about the lands of death,
Left hanged upon the trees that were therein...
  ...gather poppies in thine hands
And sheaves of brier and many rusted sheaves
Rain-rotten in rank lands,
Waste marigold and late unhappy leaves
And grass that fades ere any of it be mown;
And when thy bosom is filled full thereof
Seek out Death's face ere the light altereth,
And say "My master that was thrall to Love
Is become thrall to Death." (A Ballad of Death)

And after this Joseph of Arimathaea, and also Nicodemus,
brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes.
Then took they the body of Jesus,
and wound it in linen clothes with the spices. (John 19.38)
Camphire, with spikenard,
spikenard and saffron;
calamus and cinnamon,
with all trees of frankincense;
myrrh and aloes. (Song of Songs 4.13-15)

I have given thee garments and balm and myrrh,
      And gold, and beautiful burial things.
But thou, be at peace now, make no stir;
      Is not thy grave as a royal king's? (The Triumph of Time)

He made his grave with the wicked, and [was] with the rich in his death. (Is. 53.9)

But thou, thou art sure, thou art older than earth;
Thou art strong for death and fruitful of birth;
Thy depths conceal and thy gulfs discover;
      From the first thou wert; in the end thou art. (The Triumph of Time)

Before me there was no God formed, neither shall there be after me.
I, even I, am the LORD; and beside me there is no saviour. (Is. 43.10)

Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. (Is. 43.1)

Thou, O Lord, remainest for ever;
thy throne from generation to generation.
The Lord is my portion, saith my soul;
therefore will I hope in him. (Is. 43.10)

Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke,
perfumed with myrrh and frankincense,
with all powders of the merchant? (Songs 3.6)
My beloved spake, and said unto me,
Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. (Songs 2.10)

For winter's rains and ruins are over,  
  And all the season of snows and sins;  
The days dividing lover and lover,  
  The light that loses, the night that wins;  
And time remember'd is grief forgotten,  
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover  
  Blossom by blossom the spring begins. (Atalanta)