This hymn is by Reginald Heber (1783-1826), an Oxford educated British parish priest, who ended up being the Bishop of Calcutta. He wrote 57 hymns, the most famous of which is Holy, Holy, Holy. He wrote hymns in an effort to improve congregational singing in his church. Heber wanted to provide hymns that were appropriate to the liturgy for the Sundays of the Christian year based on the lectionary in the Book of Common Prayer. He was conscious of literary style, using poetic imagery and avoiding excessively familiar language when addressing God. He said he wanted to avoid “ditties of embraces and passion, or language which it would be disgraceful in an earthly sovereign to endure.”
This hymn is a meditation on the arrival of the wise men at the manger. The first and last stanzas are addressed to the star that led the wise men to the Christ child. But there is also the notion that Christ himself is the light of the world. So, as we sing this hymn, we are asking for the star that led the wise men to lead us, and we are also asking Christ himself to lighten our darkness and lead us in his ways.
Our hymnal has altered one word in the opening line. Heber wrote Brightest and Best of the sons of the morning. Our hymnal altered that to read Brightest and Best of the stars of the morning. This calls to mind God’s answer to Job: Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? . . . when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy? (Job 38:1-7). Dawn on our darkness reminds us of the Collect for the First Sunday of Advent (Give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness and put upon us the armor of light), and one of the Evensong Collects (Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord.)
The second stanza beautifully addresses the paradox of Christ’s lowly birth: a baby lying in a manger with the beasts of the stall, adored by angels, [and the next part always takes my breath away] maker and monarch and Savior of all. The third stanza has us standing with, or in place of, the wise men, and suggests we might give the precious gifts that the wise men offered. Edom was known for exporting salt and balsam, which was used in perfumes and incense. The fourth stanza has us questioning what gift we could give him, and ultimately deciding on “the heart’s adoration,” remembering that dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. This also reminds me of a similar questioning and answering in In the Bleak Midwinter, by Christina Rossetti:
What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.
If I were a wise man, I would do my part. Yet what I can I give him: give him my heart.
So often, the liturgy and hymns of one season circle around to other seasons, and this is a good example. This same notion will come around again on Ash Wednesday, as we chant Psalm 51 (Had you desired it, I would have offered sacrifice, but you take no delight in burnt-offerings. The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit; a broken and contrite heart O God, you will not despise.)
Our hymnal includes two different tunes for this hymn. MORNING STAR (H1982 No. 117) is by James Proctor Harding (1850-1911), an Anglican Church organist in London. With a lush Victorian tune and rich harmony, it paints a picture in sound of the elegant arrival of the wise men we envision and often see in Christmas pageants. STAR IN THE EAST (H1982 No. 118), from the Early American shape note tune book, Southern Harmony (1835), has a completely different feel. It is a modal tune, with a very angular sound and feel. This tune helps us see the austerity of the setting of Christ’s birth. Both tunes illuminate the text well, just in different ways. We will sing both tunes during this month.
— Carolyn Parmenter, Music Director
