J. S. Bach’s What Can Life be but a Shadow upon Earth,
a motet arranged for a double choir, performing in Carnegie Hall
to an audience of aristocrats come simply for an evening concert.
We were in the bloom of life ourselves, and led by a saint
who reminded us before coming on stage
that this was to be more than a performance,
indeed, a witness to the things that remain.
Then followed Lord, Thou Hast Been Our Dwelling Place,
a double choir setting of Psalm 90 by Ralph Vaughn Williams,
calling forth the glorious majesty of the Lord our God,
and invoking him to prosper his handiwork among us.
We were ourselves reminded that night how fleeting life is,
and witnessed nonetheless to how freeing it can be
to own up to our mortality, confess our faith,
and glory in the power and promises of our God.
That was then but now, soon sixty years later, is now,
and we, no longer the choir, have become the audience.
We sense the shadows lengthening over our own lives,
yet breathe from deep within the same prayer of faith.
God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform,
he plants his footsteps in the sea and rides upon the storm.
You fearful saints fresh courage take, the clouds you so much dread
are big with mercy, and shall break in blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust him for his grace,
behind a frowning providence is veiled a smiling face…
Blind unbelief is sure to err and scan his work in vain,
God is his own interpreter, and he will make it plain.
(The Covenant Hymnal: A Worshipbook, No. 418, stanzas 1,2,3,5)
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