Sunday 23rd May, 11am Sung Mass for Whitsunday. 50 days after Easter, we recall the sending of the Holy Spirit on the first disciples and the preaching of Peter which peoples understood in their varied languages.

Our Pewsheet with Music Links & Notices is available from the “Bar” below; the Parish_Notices .

Typical Music – Hymns 139, 137, Gradual Sequence, 138, 431. Missa ‘Ave Maris Stella’, by Victoria..  Listen sweet dove, by Grayston Ives.

in 2019 – Hymns 139, 137, 408. Missa Inter Vestibulum, by Guerrero. Motet: Listen sweet dove, by Grayston Ives

In 2018 we sang the tuneful Mass In F by Charles Wood, and the Motet “Come Holy Ghost, our souls inspire” by Thomas Attwood.

In 2017 we sang the lovely setting of the Robert Herrick (1591-1674) poem, Litany to the Holy Spirit, by Peter Hurford (1930-).

IN the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown’d in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

In 2016 we revelled in the rich romanticism of Rheinberger and the lush harmonies of Stopford.  Music – Mass in F, by 19th century Liechtensteiner, Josef Rheinberger; Motet “If ye love me” by contemporary composer, Philip Stopford. WIth the Ven David Gunn-Johnson as Celebrant and Preacher.

Music for 2015 was Missa ‘O quam gloriosum’, by Victoria, and If ye love me, by Thomas Tallis.

SEQUENCE. Veni, Sancte Spiritus.
Come, thou Holy Spirit, come: and from thy celestial home send thy light and brilliancy.
Come, thou father of the poor, come who givest all our store, come the soul’s true radiancy.
Come, of comforters the best, of the soul the sweetest guest, sweetly and refreshingly.
Come, in labour rest most sweet, shade and coolness in the heat, comfort in adversity.
Thou who art the Light most blest, come fulfil their inmost breast, who believe most faithfully.
For without thy Godhead’s dower, man hath nothing in his power, save to work iniquity.
What is filthy make thou pure, what is wounded work its cure, water what is parched and dry.
Gently bend the stubborn will, warm to life the heart that’s chill, guide who goeth erringly.
Fill thy faithful who adore, and confess thee evermore, with thy sevenfold mystery.
Here thy grace and virtue send, grant salvation in the end, and in heaven felicity. Amen. Amen.