The son of a Swedish father and English mother, Holst studied at the Royal College of Music in London. For some years he made his living as a trombone player, but eventually gravitated towards teaching, becoming master at St. Paul's Girls' School in 1905 and director of music at Morley College in 1907, posts he successfully retained until the end of his life. A studious and deeply thoughtful man, his influences were wide ranging. Along with friend Ralph Vaughan Williams he became active in the English folk music revival. His interest in religious philosophy and the mysticism, poetry and spiritualism of the East led him to compose his Rig Veda Hymns (1908-1910), the opera Savitri (1908), and the choral and orchestral work The Cloud Messenger (1912). By 1915 he had absorbed many influences and was beginning to find a voice of his own: work on his celebrated Planets was under way. By 1919 the Hymn of Jesus was also complete, a work which successfully combines the medieval plainsong of Holy Week hymns, Pange Lingua and Vexilla Regis, with his own individual treatment of texts from the Apocryphal Acts of St John, translated from the original Greek by Holst himself. The words are supposedly attributed to Jesus and his disciples the night before the crucifixion.

To listen attentively to Holst's Hymn of Jesus is to enter a world of deep religious mysticism, even ecstasy. Its opening bars, which Holst's daughter described as 'an unknowing recollection of the sound of medieval brass in a cathedral' introduce the beautiful plainsong Pange Lingua on trombones and explore it further on the oboe. The mood of tranquility is briefly unsettled by the rocking motion of alternating flute chords and sighing strings, ominously prefacing the organ's Vexilla Regis theme on the pedals. But reassurance comes when the alternating chords return transformed (like the bringer of peace in Venus of the Planets) and the hymn's triumphal message is given to the sopranos. Conflict, never far away, violently punctuates proceedings with a loud orchestral dissonance. The Pange Lingua, however, returns defiantly, its message of victory and redemption, sung this time by the men, bringing the prelude to a close. Its Amen is extended by the orchestra almost in improvisatory fashion, accompanied into the distance by a variant of the now familiar rocking motif.

Each of the first three lines of the hymn that follows begins in bold unison but Holst reserves a series of breathtaking harmonies for each appelation, Father, Word, Grace, the latter sung pianissimo to extraordinary effect. Each acclamation is linked to the next by the ethereal Amens of the semi-chorus, accompanied on lower strings by a downward scalic ostinato. Unusually, Glory to thee, Holy Spirit is to be spoken, almost in a whisper. This effect renders the ecstatic paean of praise that brings this section to a close all the more exciting.

The next section divides the choirs antiphonally as each petition, passively expressed, is answered by its active counterpart: Fain would I be saved: and fain would I save etc.. At the outset, lines are linked by the Amens of the semi-chorus, but as the momentum gathers the pleas overlap in a sense of urgency, and climax in an impassioned outburst at I am mind of all, with its extraordinary diminuendo and Amen, followed by Fain would I be known. This latter outburst gives way immediately to an exultant orchestral dance, readily joined by the chorus, which reaches the very heart of its meaning with the phrase, Ye who dance not, know not what we are knowing. The antiphonal pleas continue, animated by the rhythm of the dance, but reach new heights of ecstasy in the solemn declamation To you who gaze, a lamp am I, with searing dissonances and heart-melting resolution.

The return of the Pange Lingua tune, this time sung to Give ye heed unto my dancing, is a stroke of genius, binding the work together both musically and theologically and the instruction And beholding what I do, keep silence on my mysteries is a moment of sublime beauty. The return of Vexilla Regis, unadorned as before, prepares us for the shadow cast when the rocking motif returns with even more astringent harmonies and menacing trumpet calls, heralding again the Pange Lingua, but its crescendo at For yours is the passion of man that I go to endure invests it with a new confidence, marking a new turning point. When The Vexilla Regis reappears on the bassoon transformed into a dancing 12/8 time, and then sung to Ah by the sopranos the tension is finally assuaged. Thereafter, these parting sentiments of Jesus are given new authority but less urgency of expression. But Holst's inspiration is rekindled in the key phrase Behold in me a couch: rest on me echoing the earlier To you who gaze, a lamp am I, and the delightful rising phrase at Fain would I move to the music of holy souls! subtly underpinned by the orchestra with the flexible rhythm of the dance.

Know in me the word of wisdom! launches the work into a final reprise of the opening paean of praise, with the words Holy Spirit harmonically transformed into the Spirit of Peace, and the Amens of the semi-chorus seemingly continuing into eternity.
© J. S. Whitehead, October 2002
PRELUDE

1.Vexilla Regis prodeunt Fulget Crucis mysterium Quo carne carnis Conditor Suspensus est patibulo	The banners of the king advance on their way: the mystery of the cross glows with splendour. The body [of Christ] established in the form of flesh hangs on the gibbet
Pange lingua gloriosi Praelium certaminis Et super crucis trophaeum Dic triumphum nobilem Qualiter Redemptor orbis Immolatus vicerit. Amen	Tell, my tongue, the glorious battle of the struggle, and, with the trophy high upon thecross, speak of the noble triumph: how the redeemer of the world, himself a victim, was victorious. Amen.

HYMN Glory to thee, Father!
Glory to thee, Word!
Glory to thee, O Grace!
Glory to thee, Holy Spirit!
Glory to thy Glory!
We praise thee, O Father;

We give thanks to thee, O shadowless light!
Amen.

Fain would I be saved: And fain would I save.
Fain would I be released: And fain would I release.
Fain would I be pierced: And fain would I pierce.
Fain would I be borne: Fain would I bear.
Fain would I eat: Fain would I be eaten.
Fain would I hearken: Fain would I be heard.
Fain would I be cleansed. Fain would I cleanse.
I am Mind of all.
Fain would I be known.
Amen.

Divine Grace is dancing: Fain would I pipe for you.
Dance ye all!
Fain would I lament: Mourn ye all!
Amen.

The Heav'nly Spheres make music for us;
The Holy Twelve dance with us;
All things join in the dance!
Ye who dance not, know not what we are knowing.

Fain would I flee: And fain would I remain.
Fain would I be ordered: And fain would I set in order.
Fain would I be infolded: Fain would I infold.
I have no home: In all I am dwelling.
I have no resting place: I have the earth.
I have no temple: And I have Heav'n.
To you who gaze, a lamp am I: To you that know, a mirror.
To you who knock, a door am I:
To you who fare, the way. Amen.

Give ye heed unto my dancing:
In me who speak, behold yourselves;
And beholding what I do, keep silence on my mysteries.
Divine ye in dancing what I shall do;
For yours is the Passion of man what I go to endure.
Ye could not know at all what things ye endure,
Had not the Father sent me to you as a Word.
Beholding what I suffer, ye know me as the Sufferer.
And when ye had beheld it, ye were not unmoved;
But rather were ye whirled along, ye were kindled to be wise.
Had ye known how to suffer, ye would know how to suffer no more.

Learn how to suffer, and ye shall overcome.
Behold in me a couch: rest on me!
When I am gone, ye shall know who I am;
For I am in no wise that which now I seem.
For ye are come to me, then shall ye know:
What we know not, will I myself teach you.
Fain would I move to the music of holy souls!
Know in me the word of wisdom!
And with me cry again:
Glory to thee, Father!
Glory to thee, Word!
Glory to thee, Holy Spirit!
Amen.

Translated from the Greek Apocryphal Acts of St. John by the composer