now I see. 

Traditional Melody 

arr. Stephen Hatfield

​

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now am found;

Was blind, but now I see.

 

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, 

and grace my fear relieved.

How precious did that grace appear

the hour I first believed.

 

When we’ve been there ten thousand years,

Bright shining as the sun 

We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise 

Than when we first begun.

Irish folk melody

arr. Ruth Watson Henderson 

​

The text for this piece dates back to 8th century Ireland where it was titled Rop tú mo Baile in Old Irish. The first noted English translation was by Mary Elizabeth Byrne in 1905. It is a prayer for protection known as a lorica. The references to the battlefield were common due to the prevalence of clan warfare in Ireland at the time. 

​

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart, 

Naught be all else to me, save that thou art;

Thou my best thought by day or by night, 

Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light. 

​

Be thou my wisdom, and thou my true word;

I ever with thee and thou with me, Lord;

Thou my great Father, I thy true son;

Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one. 

​

Be thou my battle shield, sword for the fight; 

Be thou my dignity, thou my delight; 

Thou my soul’s shelter, thou my high tower: 

Raise thou me heavenward, O Power of my power. 

​

Riches I heed not, not the world’s empty praise: 

Thou mine inheritance, now and always;

Thou and thou only, first in my heart: 

High King of heaven, my treasure thou art. 

 

High King of heaven, when vict’ry is won, 

May I reach heaven’s joys, O bright heav’n’s Sun! 

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall, 

Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.

By Dorianne Laux

​

For days now a red-breasted bird

has been trying to break in. 

She tests a low branch, violet blossoms

swaying beside her, leaps into the air and flies

straight at my window, beak and breast 

held back, claws raking the pane. 

Maybe she longs for the tree she sees

reflected in the glass, but I’m only guessing. 

I watch until she gives up and swoops off. 

I wait for her to return, the familiar

click, swoosh, thump of her. I sip cold coffee

and scan the room, trying to see it new, 

through the eyes of a bird. Nothing has changed. 

Books piled in a corner, coats hooked

over chair backs, paper plates, a-cup

half-filled with sour milk. 

The children are in school. The man is at work. 

I’m alone with dead roses in a jam jar. 

What do I have that she could want enough 

to risk such failure, again and again?

Elizabeth Alexander

​

Rabindranath Tagore, from Fireflies 

 

Rabindranath Tagore was born in Calcutta in 1861, where he was exposed from an early age to both Indian and Western culture and thought. A prolific writer of poems, stories and novels, he is best known for Gitanjali, a book of poems about divine and human love. Tagore was also a musician and songwriter; two of his songs are now the national anthems of Bangladesh and India. The quote on which this song is based is taken from Fireflies, a collection of 256 epigrams and short verses from Southeast Asia. 

​

Faith is the bird that feels the light 

and sings when the dawn is still dark. 

Wislawa Szymborska

 

In my dream

I paint like Vermeer van Delft. 

 

I speak fluent Greek 

and not just with the living. 

 

I drive a car

that does what I want it to. 

 

I am gifted

and write mighty epics. 

 

I hear voices 

as clearly as any venerable saint. 

 

My brilliance as a pianist

would stun you. 

 

I fly the way we ought to. 

i.e., on my own. 

 

Falling from the roof, 

I tumble gently to the grass. 

 

I’ve got no problem

breathing under water

 

I can’t complain:

I’ve been able to locate Atlantis. 

 

It’s gratifying that I can always

wake up before dying. 

 

As soon as war breaks out, 

I roll over on my other side. 

 

I’m a child of my age, 

but I don’t have to be. 

 

A few years ago 

I saw two suns. 

 

And the night before last a penguin, 

clear as day.

Traditional Irish Folk Song 

arr. Susan Brumfield 

​

As I was goin’ to Bandyrowe

Kitty alone and I, 

Saw a crow a flyin’ low, 

and a cat a-spinnin’ tow: 

Kitty alone and I, rock-a-ma-rye-rie. 

 

Way up yonder above the moon, 

Kitty alone and I, 

Way up yonder above the moon, 

a bluebird sits in a silver spoon. 

Kitty alone and I, rock-a-ma-rye-rie.

 

As I was goin’ to Bandyrowe

Kitty alone and I, 

Next come in was a little bee, 

Drawin’ a fiddle across his knee. 

Kitty alone and I, rock-a-ma-rye-rie.

Traditional Gaelic Prayer 

Elaine Hagenberg 

 

A note from the composer:

 

“Desolate and uncertain, the dissonant opening piano motifs of “As the rain hides the stars” evoke an image of dismal rain on stark hills. As the text portrays one who is lost and searching for clarity, voices weave and wander, yearning for direction. Then with the transitions to c minor, the piano creates churning triplets of longing and unrest; but at last, resolves in hope. As the clouds finally part, the sun shines clearly for the first time. The voices enter softly, but with assurance, eventually proclaiming together in confident unison, “Though I may stumble in my going, You do not fall.” 

 

As the rain hides the stars, 

as the autumn mist

hides the hills, 

as the clouds veil

the blue of the sky, 

so the dark happenings of my lot

hide the shining of thy face from me. 

Yet, if I may hold your hand in the darkness, 

it is enough. 

Though I may stumble in my going, 

You do not fall.

Karen Skolfield

​

The feel of a penny in a dark purse. 

The feel of fingers in gloves, body

in a jacket, toes against wool, tongue

against teeth, lips against air. 

Small body against large body. 

Frost sounds. Someone else’s forest, 

shape of a windmill against the pitch, 

barn hulking windward, wind its own 

secret color. You think you know black

but don’t, each object shifting to smoke, 

one think blending to the next, to the trees, 

unlit cabin, the hooded sky. The dogs

bounding by, snow-crust, gift of second sight, 

our once-pliable bodies growing stiff 

as if these were our last moments, rhythm

of boots boots boots. Bushes without shape. 

Shapes firm at a distance, then dissolving. 

Too dark to say much. Stars that won’t stop. 

Hole in the sky where clouds fall through. 

Place where a moon should be. Great eye

Winking shut. Wood for the woodstove. 

Turn on the headlamps and erase the stars. 

Sarah Quartel

 

I remember days of sunshine, days of rain. 

I remember knowing spring will come again, 

And when I sing I remember all the wonder I have seen: 

Waters reaching the horizon, waves that carry you and me. 

I remember this my friend. 

 

I remember golden summers when corn is high. 

I remember branches reaching to the sky, 

And when I sing I remember all the harvests of the field, 

Fruits of love that lie in waiting, all the bounty now revealed. 

I remember this my friend. 

 

In my song there’s a race through a wild green meadow, 

The sunshine so bright in my eyes. 

In my song there’s a day by the cool of the water, 

Knowing that you’re by my side again. 

 

I remember all the loved ones I have known. 

I remember all they’ve taught me, how I’ve grown. 

When I sing I remember many lives that share my song, 

Brought together in a moment, finding somewhere to belong, 

And I remember you my friend. 

Traditional Spiritual 

Arr. Brandon Waddles 

 

Oh, I got a light. The light that shineth, 

Oh, I got a light to light my way. 

 

The Holy Bible tells us that each one has a light. 

But we must keep it always a-shining clear and bright. 

 

This light is for my sisters, and brethren on the way. 

As well to help poor sinners and show them how to pray. 

Louise Gluck

 

Long, long ago, before I was a tormented artist, afflicted with longing yet incapable of forming double attachments, long before this, I was a glorious ruler uniting all of a divided country–so I was told by the fortune-teller who examined my palm. Great things, she said, are ahead of you, or perhaps behind you; it is difficult to be sure. And yet, she added, what is the difference? Right now you are a child holding hands with a fortune-teller. All the rest is hypothesis and dream. 

Josef Rheinberger

 

Ave, maris stella,

Dei mater alma,

Atque semper virgo,

Felix coeli porta.

 

Sumens illud Ave

Gabrielis ore,

funda nos in pace,

mutans nomen Evae..

 

Solve vincla reis,

Profer lumen caecis,

 

Monstra te esse matrem:

sumat per te preces,

qui pro nobis natus,

tulit esse tuus. 

 

Virgo singularis,

inter omnes mitis,

nos culpis solutos,

mites fac et castos.

 

Vitam praesta puram,

Iter para tutum,

Ut, videntes Jesum,

Semper collaetemur. 

 

Sit laus Deo Patri,

Summo Christo decus,

Spiritui sancto;

Tribus honor unus.

​

Hail, Star of the Sea, 

Loving Mother of God, 

And Virgin immortal, 

Heaven's blissful portal! 

​

Receiving that "Ave" 

From the mouth of Gabriel, 

Reversing the name of "Eva," 

Establish us in peace. 

​

Break the chains of sinners, 

Bring light to the blind, 

Drive away our evils, 

And ask for all good things. 

​

Show thyself to be a mother, 

That, through thee, 

He may accept our prayers, 

He who, born for us, 

Chose to be your Son. 

​

Oh incomparable Virgin, 

Meek above all others, 

Make us, freed from our faults, 

Meek and chaste.

​

Keep our life pure, 

Make our journey safe, 

So that, seeing Jesus, 

We may rejoice together forever. 

​

Let there be praise to God the Father, 

And glory be to Christ the most High, 

And to the Holy Spirit, 

And to the Three be one honor. Amen. 

Allister McGilligray 

arr. Diane Loomer

 

Small craft in a harbour that’s still and serene

give no indication what their ways have been. 

They rock at their moorings all nestled in dreams. 

Away from the roll of the sea

 

Their stern lines are groaning a lullaby air, 

a ghost in the cuddy a gull on the spar. 

But never they whisper of journeys afar, 

Away from the roll of the sea. 

 

Oh had they the tongues for to speak 

What tales of adventure they’d weave. 

But now they are anchored to sleep and slumber alee

 

Come fair winds to wake them tomorrow we pray. 

Come harvest a plenty to them everyday. 

‘til guided by harbour lights their home to stay, 

Away from the roll of the sea. 

Matsuo Bashō

 

An old silent pond

A frog jumps into the pond–

Splash! Silence again.

Japanese Folk Song 

arr. Ro Ogura

 

ほ ほ ほたる こい
あっちの みずは にがいぞ
こっちの みずは あまいぞ
ほ ほ ほたる こい
ほ ほ やまみち こい

ほたるの おとさん かねもちだ
どうりで おしりが ぴかぴかだ
ほ ほ ほたる こい
やまみち  こい

ひるまは くさばの つゆの かげ
よるは ぽんぽん たかじょうちん
天じく あがり したれば
つんばくろに さらわれべ

ほ( ほ ほたる こい
あっちの みずは にがいぞ
ほ ほ ほたる こい
こっちの みずは あまいぞ

ほ ほ ほたる こい
ほ ほ やまみち こい
あんどの ひかりを ちょとみて こい
ほ ほ ほたる こい
ほ ほ やまみち こい
ほ ほ ほ ほ ほ ほ ほ

​

Ho, ho, fireflies come!
Over there the water is bitter
Over here the water is sweet
Ho, ho, fireflies come!
Ho, ho, come by the mountain road!

The fathers of the fireflies are rich
It's natural, their glittering backs,
Ho, ho, fireflies come!
Ho, ho, come by the mountain road.

At daytime, behind leaves with dew,
At night, high up like a lantern,
If it goes up to heaven
It will be kidnapped by swallows.

Ho, ho, fireflies come!
Over there the water is bitter,
Ho, ho, fireflies come!
Over here the water is sweet.

Ho, ho, fireflies come!
Ho, ho, come by the mountain road,
Take a glance at the light of the lantern,
Ho, ho, fireflies come!
Ho, ho, come by the mountain road,
Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho!

Leigh Harline 

arr. Pete King 

 

When you wish upon a star, 

Makes no difference who you are, 

Anything your heart desires will come to you. 

 

If your heart is in your dream, 

no request is too extreme, 

When you wish upon a star as dreamers do, 

 

Fate is kind, 

She brings to those who love, 

the sweet fulfillment of their secret longing. 

 

Like a bolt out of the blue, 

Fate steps in and sees you thru, 

When you wish upon a star your dreams come true.