Views And Reviews: Jerusalem
…Like countless others, my childish blood was moved in a mysterious way, my juvenile imagination set ablaze by those words, even though I hadn’t the slightest idea what they meant…
Paul Serotsky tells of the effect that William Blakes’s words, set to music by Charles Parry, had upon him during his primary school days.
For more of Paul’s exuberant words on music please click on Views And Reviews in the menu on his page.
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Parry (1848-1918) – Jerusalem
Many years ago, at junior school assembly (back then still a Christian “service”), we knew when Jerusalem was on the menu because the headmaster himself sat at the piano (I don’t know whether through ability or professional prerogative). The music he produced transfixed me, initially because I’d never before experienced at first hand such weighty and majestic sounds, and subsequently because the poor old school upright never otherwise seemed capable of such intense expression, and I was always amazed to find that it could still do it.
It was only many years later that I discovered that this “hymn” wasn’t a hymn at all – at least not in the religious sense – though it’s easy to see how it gets mistaken for one. Like countless others, my childish blood was moved in a mysterious way, my juvenile imagination set ablaze by those words, even though I hadn’t the slightest idea what they meant. I’m still not exactly sure. As it happens, even the experts aren’t what you’d call unanimous.
Of course, Parry’s massively solemn and grandiloquent music contributes enormously to the “Jerusalem experience”. Even after long acquaintance it remains thoroughly nape-tingling, and it seems that the bigger the performing forces the more tingly it becomes, making it ideal grist to the mill of the 7,000 strong choir available at the Last Night of the Proms. “Joining the choir” is not compulsory, although there will be heavy penalties imposed on non-participants. Should you feel moved to lend your voice to the glorious noise, the words are:
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
’Til we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land
© Paul Serotsky, 2007.
