Cathedral of the Madeleine

J and I attended a performance of Benjamin Britten's Ceremony of Carols hosted by the Cathedral of the Madeleine's Choristers of The Madeleine Choir School.  The Cathedral had vaulted ceilings in which the music reverberated and bounced from wall to wall.  The small choir of 20-25 children filled the entire room.  It was in the style of Latin Gregorian chants, with drawn and pure vowels.

In addition to the music, Britten's text was absolutely beautiful.  I've reproduced No.'s VII, IX, and XII below.  Take the time to read them, they're beautiful.  They epitomize Christmas, and they're just beautiful!

The Ceremony of Carols

Benjamin Britten

No. VII.  The Little Babe

This little babe so few days old, is come to rifle Satan's fold; All hell doth at his presence quake, though he himself for cold do shake; For in this weak unarmed wise the gates of hell he will surprise.  With tears he fights and wins the field, his naked breast stands for a shield; his battering shot are babish cries, his arrows looks of weeping eyes.  His martial ensigns Cold and Need, and feeble Flesh his warrior's steed.  His camp is pitched in a stall, his bulwark but a broken wall; the crib his trench, haystalks his stakes; of shepherds he his muster makes; and thus, as sure his foe to wound, the angels' trumps alarum sound.  My soul, with Christ join thou in fight; stick to the tents that he hath pight.  Within his crib is surest ward; this little Babe will be thy guard.  If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy, then flit not from this heavenly Boy.

No. IX.  In Freezing Winter Night

Behold, a silly tender babe, in freezing winter night, in homely manager trembling lies.  Alas, a piteous sight!  The inns are full; no man will yield this little pilgrim bed.  But forced he is with silly beasts in crib to shroud his head.  This stable is a Prince's court, this crib his chair of State; the Beasts are parcel of his pomp, the wooden dish his plate.  The persons in that poor attire His royal liveries wear; The Prince himself is come from heav'n; this pomp is prized there.  With joy approach, O Christian wight, do homage to thy King.  And highly praise his humble pomp, which he from Heav'n doth bring.

No XII. Recession

Christ the Lord is born today; today the Savior has appeared.  Earth echoes songs of angel choirs, archangels' joyful praise.  Today on earth his friends exult; Glory to God in the highest, alleluia.

J with the caption, 'E Pluribus Unum.'