This is, literally, my musical diary–notes fresh from my pen and recorded in a few hours. You can find my finished works elsewhere; here, it's all about capturing the moment!
There are lots of songs about the Holy Spirit, but most focus on invocation or sanctification. What I really liked about Brian Foley’s text “Holy Spirit, Come, Confirm Us,” is that he talks about other roles of the Holy Spirit: confirming truth, consoling us and renewing us, and binding us to the life of the Trinity. Heady stuff.
Foley’s text is most often paired with a tune by John Stainer; it gets the job done, but is not particularly inspiring. Unbeknownst to either Foley or Stainer, I’ve written a new tune. Shhh! Don’t tell them. I want it to be a surprise.
Click on the MP3 above or check out the lead sheet. Enjoy!
Calvin College regularly sings a Korean blessing song that is just beautiful. The only problem is that the English translation doesn’t sound much like English! I was talking to one of the Korean worship leaders at Calvin about this and ended up offering to write a new translation of the song. Because that’s what I do.
The things I like about my new translation are that the English syllables map out exactly to the Korean and the English is more natural than the previous translation. I had to change the order of some words and phrases–something is always lost in translation–but I’ve retained all the fundamental ideas and images of the original.
The original song in Korean
May the love of God spring up in your soul, be a healing stream in the wilderness flowing.
And may the love of God quench the thirsty soul, feed the hungry heart; May the love of God flow through you.
Above is a quick demo. If you’re interested in seeing a PDF of the music, let me know!
My last collaboration with Christopher Webber was successful enough that I’ve been asked to compose two more tunes for his hymn texts. This time around it’s a simple text–much simpler than his normal fare. Since his texts–and the tunes that accompany them–are usually much heavier and more cerebral, I wanted to something bright, light, and lively.
Given the “walking in the light” theme of the text, I thought a walking tempo spiritual would be in order. In some ways, it reminds me of South African songs like “Siyahamba.” What’s important is that it fits the text like a glove–it really lets it sing.
So sit back and enjoy the dulcet tones of Greg, Greg, Greg, and Greg singing “Let Us Walk in the Light.”
And the final sketch that lost to “Swampzilla”?: It’s called “Crepuscular Ray,” and is something of a minimalist piece for young players. The music sounded to me like shafts of light coming through the clouds at sunset. It turns out there’s a word for that: crepuscular ray. I couldn’t resist choosing a title that featured a word most people would need to look up.
Interestingly, director Erin De Young was already familiar with the term. Her young boys had been reading a book on animals one night and it explained that rabbits and deer are called “crepuscular” animals because they come out to feed at twilight. As fate would have it, the next day they visited a nature center where the guide asked what kind of an animal a rabbit is. She was probably looking for “mammal” or something simple, but Erin’s 5-year-old piped up without hesitation: “It’s a crepuscular animal!”
Even though this sketch lost to “Swampzilla,” I still think it has lots of potential for a high school orchestra. Feel free to contact me about a commission.
I mentioned previously that the Rockford orchestras read through three sketches before choosing “Swampzilla.” You’re probably wondering which sketches lost to “Swampzilla” in the initial round of voting, right? Wonder no more!
“Amber Waves” is a sprightly, festive piece that felt hopeful, American, and…Coplandesque. I love the title “Amber Waves” because it’s lifted from “American the Beautiful” (“amber waves of grain”) but could also mean a girl named Amber waving.
Don’t judge me on how the Finale demo sounds! If you want to take a look at the draft, click here. If you want to turn this into a completed piece for orchestra, let’s talk.
Update 12/11/21: Sheet music for this song can now be purchased at gregscheer.com.
Psalm 131 is the third shortest Psalm, consisting of only three verses. So when Jordan Clegg commissioned me to write a song based on the Psalm for Fellowship Reformed in Holland, MI, I thought, “This’ll be a piece of cake!”
While this was certainly easier than a sprawling history Psalm like 78, the challenge is to write a song as concisely focused as the original. In this case, I felt the spirit of Psalm 131 is captured in the image of a child resting with her mother. That utter dependence and contentment is a metaphor for our trust in God’s care.
The song is short, simple, and heartfelt. (This is unusual for me; I tend toward long, complex, and nerdy.) My favorite thing about the song is the way the child/mother image places the child–and by extension, us–next to her mother’s (God’s) heart. That is not only a place of intimacy and comfort, but a place where we can listen for God’s “heart”–God’s desire and will for us–turning the song from statement to prayer.
I will still my soul
like a sleeping child
in a mother’s arms.
I’m content to be,
to be where you are,
to be close to your heart.
Close to your heart, my Lord,
close to your heart.
Update: Judith has requested the music and I am happy to oblige. Here is the PDF leadsheet. If you need the piano accompaniment, just email me.
William Walsham How is best known as the author of “For All the Saints,” but he wrote almost a hundred other hymns, including the focus of today’s post: “O One with God the Father.” It is a powerful Epiphany text that begins with the theme of Colossians 1:15, “The Son is the image of the invisible God.” It continues by focusing on the light of Christ, praying that Christ’s light would dispel the darkness or our lives. Beautiful.
He wrote the hymn in 1871 and I wrote new music for it on June 18, 2018. I needed a song to go with the theme “We believe in Jesus Christ his only Son” from the Apostles’ Creed series we’re doing here at Fuller Ave CRC. There are surprisingly few hymns that address the oneness of the Father and Son. This wonderful text has been paired with unmemorable tunes for years, so I decided to give it a fresh coat of (musical) paint.
William Walsham How (1823-1897)
1. O One with God the Father
in majesty and might,
the brightness of his glory,
Eternal Light of Light;
O’er this our home of darkness
your rays are streaming bright;
the shadows flee before you,
the waiting world’s true Light.
2. Yet, Lord, we see but darkly:
O heavenly Light, arise!
Dispel these mists that shroud us,
that hide you from our eyes!
We long to track the footprints
that you yourself have trod:
we long to see the pathway
that leads to you our God.
3. O Jesus, shine around us
the radiance of your grace;
O Jesus, turn upon us
the brightness of your face.
We need no star to guide us,
as on our way we press,
if you, your light would grant us,
O Sun of Righteousness.
At this summer’s Hymn Society meeting in St. Louis, I was approached by a publisher about composing some tunes to go with a new collection of hymn texts by Christopher L. Webber. I can never resist an opportunity to compose new music, so I got right to work.
Of the numerous texts I could have chosen, I gravitated toward, “We Break This Bread.” I love the way Webber connects the breaking of bread at communion to our human brokenness. What I don’t love is that almost every line elides into the next–and at different places in each verse. No melody could accommodate the text perfectly (or allow people to sing each phrase in one breath!) but I feel like I struck a good balance that holds up well to the shifts in each verse.
Sometimes you just have to go with it, you know? A phrase popped into my head mid-afternoon: “That’s when lonely begins.” It was a title in search of a country song. Five hours later it’s written, recorded, and posted to my blog for your enjoyment. Maybe playing bass with the Malpass Brothers a few months ago rubbed off on me…
1. When I wait for your “hello”
when I’m coming through the door,
and the only thing I hear
is the echo of these walls.
When this loveseat made for two
becomes a bed for one—
That’s when lonely begins.
2. When I head out on the town
‘cause I’m tired of staying in.
When I’m looking through the crowd
but only see your friends.
When I know you’re not around
because you’re loving him—
That’s when lonely begins.
That’s when I know it’s over.
That’s when I’m sure that it’s the end.
I know the tears that fill my eyes
will be there tomorrow night;
That’s when it starts again.
3. When the radio is all
the friend I’ve got tonight.
When I’m lying in half the bed
‘cause it’s always been my side.
When I’m praying for some sleep,
but have no hope in sight—
That’s when lonely begins.
The final song in my Christmas triumvirate is not a church song at all.
As I was working on Christmas songs for worship during March’s songwriting retreat, I began thinking about how unsettling it must be for my boys to split their time between two homes during Christmas. While I’d like them to have a Hallmark holiday, life doesn’t provide many picture-perfect moments. Instead, the good and the bad are mixed together in this heart-wrenchingly glorious thing we call human existence.
I decided to try to express these conflicted holiday emotions in a Christmas pop song. It’s written from a kid’s point of view–being caught between two families on Christmas–but I think it touches on emotions we all feel: the exhausting hustle to make it to every Christmas party or visit every side of the family each year, and the ambivalence we feel when everything is so manically cheerful all around us.
Someday I’ll write a Christmas song that has no hint of sadness in it. Until then, I offer you, “Two Christmases.”
1. We’re having two Christmases this year.
We’re having two Christmases this year.
We’ll have two times the presents
and two times the food;
too much of a good thing
seems like it should be good…
We’re having two Christmases this year.
We’re having two Christmases this year.
There will be two Christmas dinners
and two Christmas trees,
but once in a while, I miss
the way things used to be.
We’re having two Christmases this year.
2. We’re having two Christmases this year.
We’re having two Christmases this year.
Now there’s two sets of parents
and two different homes;
and everyone keeps telling me,q
“The greatest gift is love!”
We’re having two Christmases this year.
We’re having two Christmases this year.
Dad’s back from his honeymoon
and Mom has a new beau,
And I’m starting to hate
the sight of mistletoe.
We’re having two Christmases this year.
3. We’re having two Christmases this year.
We’re having one too many Christmases this year.
After spending the whole day
With the kids of Dad’s new bride,
all I want for Christmas
is a silent night.
We’re having two Christmases this year.
We’re having way too many Christmases this year.
Everybody else seems to be
in the Christmas spirit.
Maybe I’ll feel happier
by New Year’s Eve.
Sometimes you just have to go with it, you know? A phrase popped into my head mid-afternoon: “That’s when lonely begins.” It was a title in search of a country song. Five hours later it’s written, recorded, and posted to my blog for your enjoyment. Maybe playing bass with the 