Are hymns capable of being a sublime art-form? Or does the Devil have the best tunes? Well, certainly, we might dismiss the archetype of the modern folk-derived “worship song”, feebly crooned to the accompaniment of a strummed guitar, but how about the contents of the classic Hymns Ancient & Modern from the heyday of Victorian hymnody?

Many of these paeans come across to modern ears as somewhat plodding and, peppered as they so often are with that staunchly God-fearing lyricism laid down by the likes of Charles Wesley, strictly for die-hard Methodists.

However, most people tend to connect with at least one hymn from their youth that stirs their spirit, be it Abide With Me, I Vow To Thee My Country, or that other hardy perennial, Amazing Grace. One such hymn that I contend is capable of sublime heights is Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, the wonderful marriage of Hubert Parry’s 1888 music written for Repton School in Derbyshire and words taken from John Leaf Whittier’s 1872 poem, The Brewing of Soma.

The title of that poem may appear odd; the “soma” of the title was a sacred drink in the Vedic religion with hallucinogenic properties and which was used by devotees in an attempt to experience divinity (cf. the “ideal pleasure drug”, soma, of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World). Whittier’s point is that one doesn’t need an external agent to experience divinity; all one needs is to listen to the “small, still voice” inside and to live the sober, selfless lives as practised by the Quakers to whom he was aligned.

Be that as it may, it’s when words and music combine in the hands (or throats) of a decent choir that the music comes alive. Joe Wright’s film, Atonement, has an acclaimed five-minute tracking shot depicting war-torn Dunkirk during which we begin to hear a choir of soldiers, in a battered bandstand, singing Dear Lord and Father of Mankind. An effective and ironic poignancy arises from the juxtaposition of the bleak and desperate scene with the rousing majesty of the hymn.

In that spirit I present a lovely version of the hymn, sung excellently by the choir of the Abbey School, Tewkesbury, set, in similar juxtaposition, to footage from the Great War.

Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
forgive our foolish ways;
reclothe us in our rightful mind,
in purer lives thy service find,
in deeper reverence, praise.

In simple trust like theirs who heard,
beside the Syrian sea,
the gracious calling of the Lord,
let us, like them, without a word,
rise up and follow thee.

O Sabbath rest by Galilee,
O calm of hills above,
where Jesus knelt to share with thee
the silence of eternity,
interpreted by love!

Drop thy still dews of quietness,
till all our strivings cease;
take from our souls the strain and stress,
and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire
thy coolness and thy balm;
let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.