Kitnock's Hill - Once to every man and nation

Tune: Kitnock’s Hill. Music by Peter Tranchell; words by James Russell Lowell (1819-1892), from the poem The Present Crisis (“When a deed is done for freedom”).

The original 1963 version (MS.Tranchell.1.99) is for SATB choir and organ - typeset score PDF

A later version (undated, but known to be later as it states “Original version 1963”) was set for unison voices (with some divisi) (MS.Tranchell.4.100) and organ (MS.Tranchell.2.383), with a slightly modified tune, dropping the variation in verse endings found in the original version - typeset score PDF coming soon.

Text

Once to every man and nation comes
     the moment to decide,
In the strife of Truth with False-
     hood, 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.