Kitnock's Hill - Once to every man and nation

Tune: Kitnock’s Hill. Music by Peter Tranchell; words by James Russell Lowell (1819-1891), from the poem The Present Crisis (“When a deed is done for freedom”). Tranchell used a different (though overlapping) set of verses in the 4th movement of his 1952/3 cantata This Sorry Scheme of Things.

Scores

The original 1963 version was set for men's voices and organ (voices mostly unison, with some divisi - see image below) (MS.Tranchell.4.100) (MS.Tranchell.2.383), - typeset score (PDF).

In 1987 Tranchell created a new arrangement (MS.Tranchell.1.99) for SATB choir and organ, with some changes to the melody and harmonies as well as the voices - typeset score (PDF).

Text

Once to every man and nation
     comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood,
     for the good or evil side;
Some great cause, God’s new Messiah,
     offering each the bloom or blight,
Parts the goats upon the left hand,
     and the sheep upon the right,
And the choice goes on for ever
     ’twixt the darkness and the light.

We see dimly in the Present
     what is small and what is great—
Slow of faith, how weak an arm may
     turn the iron helm of fate;
But the soul is still oracular;
     for amid the market’s din,
List the ominous stern whisper
     from the Delphic cave within,—
“They enslave their children’s children
     who make compromise with sin.”

Careless seems the great Avenger;
     history’s pages but record
One death-grapple in the darkness
     ’twixt old systems and the Word;
Truth for ever on the scaffold,
     Wrong for ever on the throne,—
Yet that scaffold sways the future,
     and, behind the dim unknown,
Standeth God within the shadow,
     keeping watch above His own.

Then to side with Truth is noble
     when we share her wretched crust,
Ere her cause bring fame and profit,
     and ’tis prosperous to be just;
Then it is the brave man chooses,
     while the coward stands aside,
Doubting in his abject spirit,
     till his Lord is crucified,
And the multitude make virtue
     of the faith they had denied.

New occasions teach new duties;
     Time makes ancient good uncouth;
They must upward still, and onward,
     who would keep abreast of Truth;
Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires!
     we ourselves must Pilgrims be,
Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly
     through the desperate winter sea,
Nor attempt the Future’s portal
     with the Past’s blood-rusted key.