For The Beauty of the Earth

The tune for one of the hymns in recent service was most familiar to me as the Christmas carol, "The Friendly Beasts."

The lyrics as I learned them ran along the lines of 

Jesus our brother, kind and good

Was humbly born in a stable rude

And the friendly beasts around Him stood,

Jesus our brother, kind and good.

"I," said the donkey, shaggy and brown,

"I carried His mother up hill and down;

I carried her safely to Bethlehem town."

"I," said the donkey, shaggy and brown.

"I," said the cow all white and red

"I gave Him my manger for His bed;

I gave him my hay to pillow his head."

"I," said the cow all white and red.

"I," said the sheep with curly horn,

"I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm;

He wore my coat on Christmas morn."

"I," said the sheep with curly horn.

"I," said the dove from the rafters high,

"I cooed Him to sleep so He would not cry;

We cooed him to sleep, my mate and I."

"I," said the dove from the rafters high.

Thus every beast by some good spell,

In the stable dark was glad to tell

Of the gift he gave Immanuel,

The gift he gave Immanuel.

[Note:  My search for the complete lyric revealed the tune's fascinating history. Click here to read it.]

After the customary quick rehearsal of the designated hymns on Saturday morning, the tune stuck with me and I found myself humming it for the rest of the day while flashing on the Christ Child encircled by humming beasts.

Earlier Saturday morning, a friend shared a story with me illustrating the small-town pettiness that is all too common in this God-fearing town. I remarked "How can people behave like that while Spring explodes in such vibrant, generous, creativity all around us? Are they blind to nature?" 

Four people attended the service the next day. To the tune of The Friendly Beasts, they sang



 
Hail the day that sees Him rise,
To His throne above the skies,
Christ, awhile to mortals given,
Reascends His native heaven,

There the glorious triumph waits,
Lift your heads, eternal gates,
Christ hath conquered death and sin,
Take the King of glory in,

Him though highest Heav’n receives,
Still He loves the earth He leaves,
Though returning to His throne,
Still He calls mankind His own,

See! He lifts His hands above,
See! He shows the prints of love,
Hark! His gracious lips bestow,
Blessings on His church below,

Still for us His death He pleads,
Prevalent He intercedes,
Near Himself prepares our place,
Harbinger of human race,

There we shall with Thee remain,
Partners of Thy endless reign,
There Thy face unclouded see,
Find our heaven of heavens in Thee,

and followed the hymn with The Confession of Sins, the kick-off to every Sunday gathering. Almighty God, our Maker and Redeemer, we poor sinners confess unto Thee that we are by nature sinful and unclean..." etc.

The friendly beasts tune and graphic were still on my mind. The mental picture contrasted sharply with that evoked by The Confession. I wondered Do they ever celebrate the endless variety and magnificent expression of creativity of their God? When I got home, I searched the Table of Contents of the hymnal for "For the Beauty of the Earth" or the text to "The Friendly Beasts" and did not find either. 

And it dawned on me:  this tradition is detached from the "natural world" and focuses instead on the wretchedness of humanity and the horror of the crucifixion. 

And that makes a big difference in the people's lives.