Said or sung: the Old High Church defence of metrical psalms
Accordingly, for many in the sixteenth-century reform movements, the psalms became identified as the music of the people, God's Word once only accessible to a few, now sung by one and all. Indeed, in an era when women's voices were prominently heard in public worship only in convents, and children's voices only in specialist choirs, the joyous roar in Genevan churches rose from the entire assembly, men, women, and children singing together (p.34).
Secondly, The Observer last weekend had a wonderful story on a new album, 'The Edge of the Sea', of Gaelic psalm singing from the western isles of Scotland:
In the north-western edges of Britain, in a handful of churches, one of the world’s most unusual song forms can be heard. It begins with a precentor, a leader singing the opening lines of a psalm to a church congregation, who then drift in. Each person decorates the tune individually, driven by their own tempo and rhythm, before everyone returns, together, to the same note. Imagine the sonic equivalent of a murmuration of starlings.
This is the art of Gaelic psalm singing, once practised in Free Presbyterian churches across Scotland, but now largely confined to the Outer Hebridean island of Lewis and Harris.
Calvin's Geneva and Scottish Presbyterianism seems, of course, to be somewhat removed from the concerns of a Laudian, Old High Church blog. Except that the use of metrical psalms was defended and promoted by High Church bishops in the face of the new wave of hymnody which emerged in the late 18th century. I have previously quoted High and Dry Bishop George Henry Law's 1820 Charge to the clergy of the diocese of Chester. Law criticised the trend of introducing "impassioned and fanatical hymns", urging instead the singing of psalms:
To stop this growing evil, and to keep the temples of our God in this respect pure and unpolluted, the only safe and wise rule is, to suffer nothing to be “said or sung” in our churches, except what is enjoined or permitted by lawful authority, and to be satisfied with the Psalms of the old or new version.
The "old or new version" refers to metrical psalms. My 1862 copy of the Book of Common Prayer according to the use of the United Church of England and Ireland includes 'A New Version of the Psalms of David', a metrical version of the psalms. In his The Choral Service of the United Church of England and Ireland (1843), John Jebb makes mention of practice in parish churches, as distinct from the choral traditions of cathedrals and collegiate churches:
I may here observe, by the way, that in Parish Churches, where the old style of metrical Psalmody is kept up (and I regret to say that all innovations on that style are not improvements,) it is usual for the Clerk or leader of the singers to chant out the first line of the Psalm; often closing upon a minor third ... This is one of those venerable customs which ought to be cherished: and it would be as well, for the decorum of the service, if the Clergyman himself, when capable, would so give out the Psalm.
... These remarks have been made for the purpose of shewing that the metrical Psalms commonly used in parish Churches may properly be considered in those places as Anthems, and ought to be performed after the third Collect.
In a similar fashion to Law, Richard Mant defended this characteristic of parish worship in his 1842 Charge to the clergy of Down, Connor, and Dromore:
Again, let us beware of that spirit of irregularity and innovation, whereby there have been introduced into our churches unauthorized forms of singing, whether of strange psalms or of hymns. The old version of the Psalms, noticed at the Savoy Conference by the Presbyterian Commissioners, had been previously allowed by the Crown; subsequently, the new version was allowed by the same authority in the reign of King William the Third ... Beyond these, so far as I can learn, no allowance or permission has been given for the use of strange versions of the Psalms, or of metrical hymns. If those, which have of late years been lavishly introduced amongst us, were free from all internal objection, whereas the contrary were easily demonstrable, still they are in themselves objectionable, as violations of ecclesiastical discipline, and at variance with the Church's principles and provisions for public worship.
What is more, Mant himself had been the author of The Book of Psalms in an English Metrical Version (1824), in which he stated:
a metrical form is so closely associated with our ideas of poetry, that, except in such a form, the Psalms are not in a condition to assert their full claim to poetical excellence.
The singing of metrical psalms in the parish church, then, was a feature of Anglican worship defended by High Church bishops, suspicious of both the form and content of much of the new hymnody. What is taken to be a characteristic of Reformed worship was also a staple of Anglican parish worship, favoured by High Church bishops. Why? Metrical psalms, when contrasted with much hymnody, embodied the modesty and reserve - in form and content - prized by the Old High Church tradition. They were much less unlikely to overshadow the liturgy, hence Law's mention in this context of "the sober words of our incomparable liturgy". And the doctrine of the Psalter, of course, was inspired, unlike that in hymns, often reflecting an 'enthusiasm' which undermined the ordered life of the parish. We get a sense of this concern in Mant's reference to "hymns of private composition".
The point of all this is not to suggest a return to psalm-singing only in the liturgy: although, that being said, and as N.T. Wright has pointed out, the absence of psalms from much contemporary worship (particularly when contrasted with Sunday Mattins as the regular service) is deeply worrying. It is, however, to urge a reconsideration of the character of parish worship and the need for caution approach regarding hymns and songs. Parish worship should not seek to imitate the cathedral or collegiate church. It was a Tractarian innovation to attempt this, not least through the introduction of chanting and robed choirs in the parish, undoing the vibrant, popular tradition of west gallery music. As Trollope says of Barchester:
The services were decently and demurely read in their parish churches, chanting was confined to the cathedral, and the science of intoning was unknown. One young man who had come direct from Oxford as a curate at Plumstead had, after the lapse of two or three Sundays, made a faint attempt, much to the bewilderment of the poorer part of the congregation. Dr Grantly had not been present on the occasion; but Mrs Grantly, who had her own opinion on the subject, immediately after the service expressed a hope that the young gentleman had not been taken ill, and offered to send him all kinds of condiments supposed to be good for a sore throat. After that there had been no more intoning at Plumstead Episcopi.
An Old High Church modesty and reserve - "decently and demurely" - will militate against the parish church being turned into either a miniature cathedral or a revivalist camp meeting, ensuring that the rhythms of common prayer and sacraments are secured in order to be means of common sanctification.
A cautious approach to hymns and songs is also a virtue of the Old High Church defence of metrical psalms. A consistent theme of Christian commentary on the Psalter over the centuries has been that it addresses common experiences. As Athanasius stated:
Within it are represented and portrayed in all their great variety the movements of the human soul. It is like a picture, in which you see yourself portrayed and, seeing, may understand and consequently form yourself upon the pattern given.
In the Psalter you learn about yourself. You find depicted in it all the movements of your soul, all its changes, its ups and downs, its failures and recoveries. Moreover, whatever your particular need or trouble, from this same book you can select a form of words to fit it.
By contrast, "hymns of private composition" can exalt individualistic rather than shared experiences and/or employ devotional language that is distinctly uncommon (e.g. "I have felt Your touch/More intimate than lovers", not language commonly used to describe life in God). Keith Getty, a leading writer of contemporary worship songs, identified a key cause of this when he noted "many modern worship songs focus on emotionalism rather than sound doctrine and Scriptural truths". Such emotionalism, of course, often evokes individualistic rather than shared, common experiences and discourse, with the ground of the Church's common experience and shared discourse being Scripture's witness to God's acts in creation and redemption, not what I am supposed to feel, not my emotions are meant to be.
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