WELS Hymnal Project

Project Blog

Insights, analysis, techniques, opinions, and experiences from the team behind the WELS Hymnal Project.

It’s the home stretch. It’s really exciting.

We have chosen all of the Psalm settings for the hymnal. We have chosen all of the alternate settings for those Psalms as well. Congregations that like the current hymnal’s Psalm style will be able to find something for every service. Congregations that prefer metrical paraphrases or more lyrical settings will be able to find something as well. All of those settings can be found either in the hymnal or the Psalter. The electronic worship planning tool will aid in incorporating those in worship folders.

And we are 90% done with choosing all of the settings for the new WELS psalter. We are providing accessible settings for individuals, choirs, and congregations to chant or sing all 150 Psalms. It has been genuinely delightful to pore over thousands of settings, looking for things that the vast majority of people will be able to use.

The basic pattern of the psalter has come together. Each Psalm is printed in its entirety, and pointed to be chanted in the current CW style with familiar chant tones provided. A Psalm prayer is followed by an explanation of how the Church has used that Psalm through the ages, and then commentary on that particular Psalm from Martin Luther in a fresh translation. The settings follow, representing treasures old and new.

We have discovered well over 100 tunes for the metrical paraphrases. Many of them are new to WELS. Some of them are from previous WELS hymnals but are not in the current hymnal. Almost all of them will be printed in singable and playable four-part harmony.

We are aware of new settings being published even this year, and we are reviewing them as we have the opportunity. But the date is fast approaching when we are finished, and then the comprehensive new WELS psalter will be in your hands. We can hardly wait!

I will praise you with the lyre, O God, my God.
Psalm 43:4b

One value in repeated use of familiar worship material is that certain phrases become embedded in one’s memory. One of my favorites: “Better than life is your love” (Morning Devotion, CW page 152; Psalm 63:3). God’s love is better than life itself because he rescues us from sin and death and promises eternal life.

Easter is God’s stamp of approval on Christ’s victory. St. Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 15:

“Death has been swallowed up in victory.”

55 “Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”

56 The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 57 But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

58 Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.

In the death and resurrection of Jesus, death for the believer dies. What a powerful image! “Holy Scripture plainly says that death is swallowed up by death; its sting is lost forever. Hallelujah!” (161:2, 720:4). A new hymn by Keith and Kristyn Getty puts it this way: “Death is dead, love has won, Christ has conquered” (See, What a Morning).

Not all familiar and memorable lines are pleasant. Martin Luther’s great Easter hymn doesn’t mince words about the cause for Jesus’ death: “Christ Jesus lay in death’s strong bands for our offenses given” (161, 720). But though our offenses are great, his love is greater. “He died on the accursèd tree—so strong his love—to save us” (161:3, 720:5).

Some days we revel in Easter confidence. Other days we’re tempted to minimize the serious risks in our spiritual battles. So we do well to remember: “The ancient dragon is their foe” (195:4). On our own, we’d be quickly defeated. But with God’s promise to support us, we are bold to say: “Dragon of old and jaws of death, I sneer at the fear you bring!” (from a new hymn under consideration).

A favorite line for many is from “I Know that My Redeemer Lives”: “He lives to silence all my fears; He lives to wipe away my tears” (152:5). And so we pray in a hymn not from the Easter section:

Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heav’n’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me! (588:7)

This year Easter worship will include familiar images and memorable poetic phrases. In years to come a new hymnal will bring new expressions of Easter victory and confidence.

God bless your Easter worship with spiritual truth embedded in your heart by both new and familiar words!

So let us keep the festival
To which the Lord invites us;
Christ is himself the joy of all,
The sun that warms and lights us.
Now his grace to us imparts
Eternal sunshine to our hearts;
The night of sin is ended. Hallelujah! (161:4, 720:6)

Until you’re faced with the cold, chilling reality that your days are actually numbered, you might not notice it so much. But ask the hiker stranded for four days in sub-zero temperatures, ask the patient in the oncology ward who has just heard the words “stage 4,” ask the pinned down, bleeding accident victim who fears that the EMT’s and the jaws of life are not going to arrive in time—ask any of them what they think about seeing another sunrise. I didn’t think much about the fact that the sun rose this morning, but there are those who treasure each new morning because they know that they don’t have too many grains of sand left in the top half of the hourglass. So when they rejoice to see the dawn of another day, they also reflect on the God who is giving them that day. They might even reflect on the fact that every day they are given is based on a promise from God, that cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease until the God who created the seasons brings them to an end and fashions for his redeemed people a new heavens and a new earth— the home of righteousness.

Always more than we realize, we depend on the promises of God.

One promise, in particular, has been operating in stealth mode throughout all of our days. It is the promise that the Triune God is always with us, that he will never leave us or forsake us. We have never seen our Savior, but our Savior has never taken his eye off us. More than we realize, we depend on God not abandoning us, for that would truly be hell.

When he took on a servant’s form and was found in appearance as a man, Jesus depended on the promises of God. Unlike ours, his dependence on the promises of God was complete and perfect in every way. He relied on God for food and drink, for clothing and shoes, for help in trouble, for deliverance from evil, for everything. Jesus found great solace and peace in the fact that the Father who sent him to earth would never leave him to fend for himself, would never turn a deaf ear to his prayers, would never slumber or sleep, would always watch over him and protect him, would never leave him or forsake him.

Sainted Lutheran pastor and hymn writer Herman Stuempfle wrote a Lenten hymn with a mind-boggling title: “Son of God, by God Forsaken.” That title calls to mind the quandary in which Luther found himself when pondering Good Friday: “God forsaken by God—who can understand it?” In terms of the doctrine of the Trinity, how such a thing can have happened is inexplicable. In terms of being truly human, the peaceful solace Jesus had in his soul from leaning on the promise that his Father would never leave him or forsake him was the rug that was pulled out from under his feet in the cruelest of fashion. Suddenly, while nailed to a tree in supernatural midday darkness, that essential, pivotal promise was gone. The giver of the promise, Jesus’ eternal Father, was gone. Jesus was more incomprehensibly alone than you or I have ever felt. He was simultaneously drowning in the crushing ocean depths of God-forsakenness and burning in the raging inferno of God’s wrath, with his heavenly Father nowhere to be found. When he cried out, “Why!” the silence only continued, the solitude only deepened, the suffering went on unabated.

Forsaken. For us. To remove all our sin. This was the incomprehensible cost of our rescue, willingly paid by the one who suffered incomprehensible loss in our place.

When Jesus breathed his last, he was no longer forsaken. Our redemption price, the redemption price of the entire world, had been paid. The Father who had forsaken his Son received the soul of his Son into his loving hands.

There is not, nor shall there ever be, a hymn entitled, “Child of God, by God Forsaken.” That is an impossibility. Your heavenly Father will never, not even for a split second through all the endless moments of eternity, suspend or remove his promise to never leave you or forsake you. That happened to Jesus in your place; it’s not going to happen to you. The Lord God Almighty has purchased you and he possesses you as his own and he will not let go of you. As he keeps his promise and causes the sun to rise each morning, he will never forsake you through all of the tomorrows on earth that he has yet to give you. And when the day comes when days and seasons end and he keeps his promise to forever dwell among his people in the new heavens and the new earth, he will never forsake you through the endless today that he provides for you in heaven.

Can something be beautiful and ominous at the same time?

Think of billowing storm clouds. The sun glints brilliantly off their contours and edges. Their majestic beauty can be breathtaking.

Unless you’re in flood-ravaged Nebraska, where water has devastated property and drowned livestock. Or unless you’re hiking in the rocky ravines and slot canyons of the Southwest, where flash floods can kill. Some things can be both beautiful and ominous.

It seems to me that “love” is one such thing.

Love—what could be more beautiful? Yet my sinful self paints “love,” the command from my Creator, in dark hues. First there’s the stubborn resistance: “Why should I love? People don’t love me the way I deserve, so why should I bend over backward to love them?” Then there’s the sad reality that the people closest to me, the people I should find easiest to love, are often the ones I find most frustrating and difficult to love. Finally there’s the guilt, the realization to which the command to love brings me: so often I simply fail to love. And it’s not only people that I fail to love, but God himself.

But this evening we see love in a new light. “It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end” (John 13:1). Here we see Jesus, our righteousness, loving and serving those close to him. He washes their feet—the same feet that will run away from him. Here we see Jesus giving his body and blood in a simple but breathtaking meal. In this meal is pure love that forgives sin and rebellion. Here we see Jesus’ love in his active obedience, as he fulfills the command to love. On this same night we see Jesus’ love in the passive obedience of letting himself be betrayed, arrested, convicted, and sent to crucifixion.

This love from Jesus will come yet again tonight in the word of his grace and in the saving gift of his Supper. This love will cover us with his righteousness. This love will forgive us all our lovelessness. Let’s receive this love with thankful hearts.

And why not let this love lead us? Why not let it move us to reconcile with the people we’ve failed to love or with those who have been loveless toward us? Why not let this love move us to love and live for the one who lived and died and lives again for us? “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:12,13).

Things both beautiful and ominous—I suppose Holy Thursday falls into that category. Jesus leaving the Upper Room to go to his betrayal. The altar solemnly being stripped. But there’s love on this night, too. See it’s breathtaking beauty.

Christians all over the world are praising their Lord on this Palm Sunday with words from Psalm 24:

“Lift up your heads, O you gates;
Be lifted up, you ancient doors,
That the King of Glory may come in” (Psalm 24:7).

The picture is of believers assembled at the ancient gates of the city of Jerusalem, calling on them to allow Jesus to enter as he rides on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Why should the city of Jerusalem let Jesus in?

“Who is this King of Glory?
The Lord, strong and mighty,
The Lord, mighty in battle” (Psalm 24:8).

Jesus is the mighty King, the one who rules the universe. He looks humble as he rides on a donkey, but he is actually the King of kings and Lord of lords, able to defeat anyone in battle.

In just a few days he will look defeated, hanging on a cross, but by his resurrection, death will be swallowed up in victory. The humble King will rule for all eternity, and we will rule with him.

On this Palm Sunday, Jesus comes to us through the gospel, and we welcome him with joy when we believe that word of truth. Our sins are forgiven, and we look forward to Jesus’ second coming, when we welcome him again as the eternal King of glory.

“Lift up your heads, O you gates;
Lift them up, you ancient doors,
That the King of Glory may come in.
Who is he, this King of glory?
The Lord Almighty—
He is the King of Glory” (Psalm 24:8,9).

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