I thought it worked well once I had the melody. It’s been about 30 years since I last sang “Turn Back, O Man”.
Funny but I can remember the very first time I ever heard Old 124th. It was back in the 70s. I went to the Saturday night Mass with my Nana and it so happened that Sunday was November 2nd. The opening hymn was “Merciful Savior, Hear Our Humble Prayer”, one of few for the Holy Souls. To this day I still remember the first verse although don’t ever recall singing it again.
Thank you for this poem. It so beautifully reflects, and gives deeper meaning to, my own continual need for daily repentance - even (especially?) as one whose outward life has been more like that of the elder brother.
I like to think of Babette's Feast when it comes to Tony and others like you.
"But this is not the end, Babette. In paradise you will be the great artist God meant you to be. Oh, how you will enchant the angels!"
There's so many of us who for whatever reason have talents that are hidden from the world, known only to God and his angels. So many want the approval and fame and reknown that our fellow man can give us, but it will be better for us if we can enchant the angels instead!
This is why I have been encouraging Tony to write his own poetry forever. And he is doing yet another refining edit of his second book-length poem, which he began working on nearly seven years ago. It cheers us greatly to hear from those who can and do appreciate Tony's work, particularly in a field of the arts which has fallen largely into the pit in our times.
I was reading through a book of poems that covered English poetry through the ages. The early poems were sometimes a struggle to work though what the author was trying to say mostly due to the language difference of early English. However, those poems were thought provoking and satisfying to read. I thought I'd take a breather from those poems and turned to the end of the book which was modern poetry and my first thought was good grief what has happened to us!
My parents - with no college education - surrounded me with beautiful books of children's poetry, and my very young soul was shaped by them. I wrote my first poem when I was 6, and my teacher took it around the school to show the other teachers. After that, I drifted into the cultural wasteland of the 60s. In high school I eagerly took an "Intro to Poetry" elective that I dropped after one week because it consisted of sitting in a circle and sharing our feelings about a series of badly written, bitter, grievance 'poems'. It wasn't until I began home educating that I was introduced to the timeless, transcendent poetry that brought the childhood wonder back with a glorious rush.
I couldn’t just read it. I had to sing it.
How did it sound, to Old 124th, about the only 10-10-10-10-10 melody I know of, offhand? I had the melody in my mind when I was composing the hymn.
I thought it worked well once I had the melody. It’s been about 30 years since I last sang “Turn Back, O Man”.
Funny but I can remember the very first time I ever heard Old 124th. It was back in the 70s. I went to the Saturday night Mass with my Nana and it so happened that Sunday was November 2nd. The opening hymn was “Merciful Savior, Hear Our Humble Prayer”, one of few for the Holy Souls. To this day I still remember the first verse although don’t ever recall singing it again.
Yay! I needed a melody to sing it to.
Tony has set all of the hymns in the Hundredfold (and has done the same for the ones in The Twelve-Gated City) to beautiful traditional hymn tunes.
Thank you for this poem. It so beautifully reflects, and gives deeper meaning to, my own continual need for daily repentance - even (especially?) as one whose outward life has been more like that of the elder brother.
200 years from now, poetry afficionados will marvel at the fact that Esolen was largely unread in his own lifetime.
I like to think of Babette's Feast when it comes to Tony and others like you.
"But this is not the end, Babette. In paradise you will be the great artist God meant you to be. Oh, how you will enchant the angels!"
There's so many of us who for whatever reason have talents that are hidden from the world, known only to God and his angels. So many want the approval and fame and reknown that our fellow man can give us, but it will be better for us if we can enchant the angels instead!
Keep up the great work Tony!
You're very kind -- thank you.
Not that I'm making any comparison between myself and the Great One, but the words of Milton do cheer me up:
Standing on earth, not rapt above the Pole
More safe I sing with mortal voice, nor changed
To hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days,
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues,
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round
And solitude; yet not alone, while Thou
Visit'st my slumbers nightly, or when morn
Purples the east: still govern Thou my song,
Urania, and fit audience find, though few.
I was just thinking exactly the same thing.
The process of building and planting amidst the rubble might seem imperceptible at first....but by God's grace the fruit will come.
This is why I have been encouraging Tony to write his own poetry forever. And he is doing yet another refining edit of his second book-length poem, which he began working on nearly seven years ago. It cheers us greatly to hear from those who can and do appreciate Tony's work, particularly in a field of the arts which has fallen largely into the pit in our times.
I was reading through a book of poems that covered English poetry through the ages. The early poems were sometimes a struggle to work though what the author was trying to say mostly due to the language difference of early English. However, those poems were thought provoking and satisfying to read. I thought I'd take a breather from those poems and turned to the end of the book which was modern poetry and my first thought was good grief what has happened to us!
My parents - with no college education - surrounded me with beautiful books of children's poetry, and my very young soul was shaped by them. I wrote my first poem when I was 6, and my teacher took it around the school to show the other teachers. After that, I drifted into the cultural wasteland of the 60s. In high school I eagerly took an "Intro to Poetry" elective that I dropped after one week because it consisted of sitting in a circle and sharing our feelings about a series of badly written, bitter, grievance 'poems'. It wasn't until I began home educating that I was introduced to the timeless, transcendent poetry that brought the childhood wonder back with a glorious rush.
Amen!