A seven-shape gospel song in the Greenwood Harmony – rough and ready recording in four parts (all my own voice). Please message me if you want the notes!

Love In My Heart

III - Blazhen muzh

The Litany of Peace

II - Benedic, anima mea

I - Venite, exsultemus

The Litany Of Peace

Une promenade nocturne

260t in the Shenandoah Harmony. Arrangement by John R. Daily, 1911. All parts sung by me in a first-take recording.

Conflict ("I am a stranger here below")

Written in loving memory of Robert Germany (1974–2017), and presented to his family, by Micah John Walter.

Sung at Morning Prayers at Appleton Chapel on 10 April 2017 by the Choral Fellows of the Harvard University Choir.

Text:
Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy upon us.
Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy upon us.
Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy upon us.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
Both now, and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.
Holy Immortal, have mercy upon us.
Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy upon us.

Morning Prayers

Trisagion in memory of Robert Germany

Hymn for the Feast of St. Mary Magdalene (July 22). Tune: Urbs beata, mode ii. Words: Latin, 13th century, translated by Laurence Housman (1865-1959). In the New English Hymnal, 174.

Mary, weep not, weep no longer,
Now thy heart hath gained its goal;
Here, in truth, the Gardener standeth,
But the Gardener of thy soul,
Who within thy spirit's garden
By his love hath made thee whole.

Now from grief and lamentation
Lift thy drooping heart with cheer;
While for love of him thou mournest,
Lo, thy Lord regained is here!
Fainting for him, thou hast found him;
All unknown, behold him near!

Whence thy sorrow, whence thy weeping,
Since with thee true bliss abides?
In thy heart, though undiscovered,
Balm of consolation hides:
Holding all, thou canst no longer
Lack the cure that Health provides.

Nay, no wonder if she knows not
Till the Sower's seed be sown,
Till from him, the Word eternal,
Light within her heart is thrown.
Now he calls her, and ‘Rabboni,’
She in turn her Lord doth own.

Faith that washed the feet of Jesus,
Fed with dew the Fount of Grace,
Win for use a like compassion,
That, with all the ransomed race,
At the glory of his rising
We may see him face to face.

Glory be to God and honour
Who, preferring sacrifice,
Far above the rich man’s bounty,
Sweetness found in Mary’s sighs,
Who for all, his love foretasting,
Spreads the banquet of the skies. Amen.

mjwalter