The chapel’s own book

Book One · the chapel's own book, as bound and mended by the Sexton

All hymns to be sung at moderate length, in the key the organ has settled into, slightly behind the organist. Enthusiasm is permitted on feast days, in moderation, at the back.

Open the songbook

Indigo & ochre

In this book

4 songs · words & recordings

Book OneSong list ↑

HYMN I

OUR SOMEWHAT DISINTERESTED LORD

The Drone. Sung every Sunday since the chapel had a roof, and most Sundays since.

[Verse 1] Our somewhat disinterested Lord, Who watches over us As a loving shepherd watches sheep — Which is to say: because. [Verse 2] He does not smite, He does not save, He does not lean or look; He noted us, once, long ago, In some enormous book. [Chorus] We praise Thee, Lord, at moderate length, For all Thou hast not done: The floods that came regardless, Lord, The wars that nobody won. We ask of Thee no miracles, And promptly they arrive; O somewhat disinterested Lord, It's how we're all alive. [Verse 3] The roof is holed, the font is pond, The candles will not light; And Thou, in Thy great wisdom, Lord, Hast found this all just right. [Outro — spoken, in the tone of a sigh] Amen. And likewise.

Rubric, added following the incident: the congregation is reminded that the third line of the first verse concerns A LOVING SHEPHERD, and the parish will hear no other arrangement of it. The parish has heard another arrangement of it. The parish will not laugh. The parish laughed.

HYMN II

THE RISING HYMN

Of the Church of the Blessed Loaf. Sung standing very still in a warm room, swelling gradually.

[Verse 1] Rise, rise, ye heavy-hearted, As the good loaf rises, slow; What the cold world has punched down in you Shall double ere you go. [Verse 2] In the draughty hour, the doubting hour, When the crust of you feels thin, There's a warmth in the room, and nobody near Will take the credit for't. Come in. [Chorus] For the proving is the loving, And the waiting is the way, And the heaviest of doughs, my friends, Has risen by close of day. So stand ye somewhere warm awhile — That is the whole of the creed — And what ye have of goodness, rolled Together, is more than we knead. [Verse 3] And when at last the oven calls, As the oven calls for all, Go golden, friend, go crackling-crowned, Go fragrant down the hall.

Stand ye somewhere warm awhile — that is the whole of the creed.

HYMN III

JUST ABOUT

The processional of Saint Tarry, patron of the about-to-be-served. Sung in the queue, on the feast day, in the drizzle, contentedly.

[Verse 1] The feast is nearly ready And the queue is nearly through, The kettle's nearly boiling And the sky is nearly blue, The blessing's nearly written And the choir's nearly here — It's the most that can be hoped for And it's plenty, never fear. [Chorus] Just about, just about, All good things come just about, And we'd rather stand together in the rain and go without Than be served alone in comfort — So we'll wait, and shuffle, out Of step, in love, in drizzle, In the queue, for Just About. [Verse 2] Saint Tarry stood before us As he'll stand when we are gone, His plate forever empty And his patience ever long, And they say the day he's served at last The whole world's done and dried — So bless the kitchen's lateness, friends, It keeps us all alive.

The final note is not sung. The congregation goes home content.

HYMN IV

THE CAROL OF THE UNRUNG BELL

For the last night of December, called the Asking. Sung quietly, once, at the gate.

[Verse 1] The Sexton's at the gateway With his lantern and his cough, He's come to ask the old year, kindly, Whether it will off. The year considers, gravely, As the sleet begins to fall, And declines, as it declined before, And that is that, and all. [Verse 2] The bell is oiled and ready, The bell is raised and true, The bell has hung two hundred years With nothing left to do; For the day is never finished And the ledger never through, So we write it: CARRIED FORWARD, As our fathers used to do. [Verse 3 — softer] But somewhere down the stairwell There's a supper staying warm, And somewhere up the stairwell There's a chair against the storm, And if nothing here can finish, love, Then nothing here can end — So carry forward, carry on, And keep warm what you can, my friend. [Outro — hummed; the bell is not rung]

The Sexton then goes in to his supper. The Wet begins again. The Kalendar is reused.

Four hymns, of the forty-one the chapel owns — the ones with the chapel’s blessing. Recorded at last, in the Year of Our Confusion.
Words: the Sexton, the jester, and a great deal of weather.