Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Holy Master, have mercy upon me and save me a sinner.
or
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God and of Mary,
have mercy upon me and save me a sinner.
or
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God who art merciful,
save, and have mercy upon, me a sinner.
Many will recognize these as variations on the Jesus Prayer, which I've always seen written like this:
In practice this prayer is repeated many times. When done properly it is done with attention and feeling. SO, the rhythm of it, I suppose, ought not to be an issue. Nevertheless, my purposes in putting it into meter are threefold.
The first reason is simply the fun of trying to do on a very small scale what I've found so masterfully done by H. W. Longfellow.
Second (more on this at the end of this discussion) is the practical need I feel to have words that help my mind settle into the prayer, or rather to settle out of all the other stuff it's caught up in.
Third—and this takes more explanation—is a motive induced by my experience with a translation of the Psalms that our diocese began using more than a decade ago. After all this time I still fumble over phrasing and cadence despite efforts to adjust. Prior to this translation we used the King James. Although its old style English also requires adjustment, the words do flow—one CAN become accustomed to it. With this other translation, however, I constantly find very clumsy grammar, which makes for fumbling text during services (I am one of the readers). For example, from Psalm 104:7 KJV (103 Septuagint numbering).
When trying to read aloud at an even pace, my mind must run on automatic, at least to some degree. And after a decade with this translation, I still find it an unnatural English. The upshot, for me, is that while reading during a service, I’m unable to listen and think about the Psalm because I'm focused entirely on pronouncing one word after another. If I allow myself to listen to the Psalm, trying to enter its meaning, I'm soon caught off guard by some odd syntax that throws me into confusion—enough to lose track of the flow of text, which also triggers some fear lest I distract the other parishioners. This has sent me looking at several translations of the Psalms to see if any are both readable and poetic. This, I have discovered, is a very tall order: seldom do both occur for long. All translations do the best they can—mostly aiming for readability with little concern for poetry. All contain their own peculiarities.
Anyway, this is in the background of my interest in rendering prayers in meter, and brings me back to reason number two for the attempt.
I’ve posted the Angelic Salutation (“Hail Mary” for Catholics, and “Rejoice O Virgin” for Orthodox) and (here) the Jesus Prayer. Because I use these prayers in my day, it is important to me to keep them as close as possible to what I originally learned. The prayers are already helpful to me during my day, even without meter, but I find that at times of high distraction, anxiety, or stress, it is difficult to do more than merely mouth the Jesus Prayer—totally without feeling or attention. I end up continuing on as though no prayer had been uttered. So, I’m looking for the prayer to pull my mind into it, similar to the way lyrics, rhythm and melody can immerse my mind with a song, to the point of distracting me from the things I’m working on. Many have experienced something like this when “Jingle Bells” is heard, or “Yellow Submarine” and the like. How much better if a prayer could do that! And, finding myself in the prayer, could I then give myself a moment actually to concentrate on it? Much as good actions can convert a bad mood into a better mood, the saying of short prayers is meant to recall the heart away from selfish things to God. Music helps to move my mind—as gravity moves a boulder.
And, indeed, I have found—at least while these are new to me—these versified prayers have helped my mind to orbit a better center. But even more, the effort to modify them without changing them has required me to contemplate the text more on its own terms, to enter into it, attempting to grasp its native intuition—the essence that must remain the same. God forbid I should turn these prayers into reflections of myself! The goal has been to make the words flow, but to keep them as the property of the Church, by retaining the Church's content intact.
That's the aim, but, “Wisdom is known by her children.”
or
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God and of Mary,
have mercy upon me and save me a sinner.
or
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God who art merciful,
save, and have mercy upon, me a sinner.
Many will recognize these as variations on the Jesus Prayer, which I've always seen written like this:
"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me and save me a sinner."It does have it's own rhythm, and is quite usable this way. But the language flow trips a bit at "… mercy on me and save..." with four unstressed syllables squished between two stressed ones.
In practice this prayer is repeated many times. When done properly it is done with attention and feeling. SO, the rhythm of it, I suppose, ought not to be an issue. Nevertheless, my purposes in putting it into meter are threefold.
The first reason is simply the fun of trying to do on a very small scale what I've found so masterfully done by H. W. Longfellow.
Second (more on this at the end of this discussion) is the practical need I feel to have words that help my mind settle into the prayer, or rather to settle out of all the other stuff it's caught up in.
Third—and this takes more explanation—is a motive induced by my experience with a translation of the Psalms that our diocese began using more than a decade ago. After all this time I still fumble over phrasing and cadence despite efforts to adjust. Prior to this translation we used the King James. Although its old style English also requires adjustment, the words do flow—one CAN become accustomed to it. With this other translation, however, I constantly find very clumsy grammar, which makes for fumbling text during services (I am one of the readers). For example, from Psalm 104:7 KJV (103 Septuagint numbering).
"At thy rebuke they fled; at the voice of thy thunder they hasted away."And in the other translation:
"At Thy rebuke they will flee, at the voice of Thy thunder shall they be afraid."In the KJV the text flows—first clause iambic, the second dactylic. These clauses also use parallel grammatical construction: same verb tense and mood. It’s just what a speaker of English expects. In the other translation, the verb construction is at odds. "They will flee" declares action; "shall they be afraid" is constructed as an indirect question, splitting the verb, and reversing the subject-verb sequence. Totally unexpected! In addition, the second clause is a predicate adjective, not an active verb—an added dissimilarity. The least the translators could have done was punctuate accordingly to signal this change. But two simple changes, almost invisible, would solve the whole mess:
“At Thy rebuke shall they flee; at the voice of Thy thunder shall they be afraid.”And it flows about as well as the KJV!
When trying to read aloud at an even pace, my mind must run on automatic, at least to some degree. And after a decade with this translation, I still find it an unnatural English. The upshot, for me, is that while reading during a service, I’m unable to listen and think about the Psalm because I'm focused entirely on pronouncing one word after another. If I allow myself to listen to the Psalm, trying to enter its meaning, I'm soon caught off guard by some odd syntax that throws me into confusion—enough to lose track of the flow of text, which also triggers some fear lest I distract the other parishioners. This has sent me looking at several translations of the Psalms to see if any are both readable and poetic. This, I have discovered, is a very tall order: seldom do both occur for long. All translations do the best they can—mostly aiming for readability with little concern for poetry. All contain their own peculiarities.
Anyway, this is in the background of my interest in rendering prayers in meter, and brings me back to reason number two for the attempt.
I’ve posted the Angelic Salutation (“Hail Mary” for Catholics, and “Rejoice O Virgin” for Orthodox) and (here) the Jesus Prayer. Because I use these prayers in my day, it is important to me to keep them as close as possible to what I originally learned. The prayers are already helpful to me during my day, even without meter, but I find that at times of high distraction, anxiety, or stress, it is difficult to do more than merely mouth the Jesus Prayer—totally without feeling or attention. I end up continuing on as though no prayer had been uttered. So, I’m looking for the prayer to pull my mind into it, similar to the way lyrics, rhythm and melody can immerse my mind with a song, to the point of distracting me from the things I’m working on. Many have experienced something like this when “Jingle Bells” is heard, or “Yellow Submarine” and the like. How much better if a prayer could do that! And, finding myself in the prayer, could I then give myself a moment actually to concentrate on it? Much as good actions can convert a bad mood into a better mood, the saying of short prayers is meant to recall the heart away from selfish things to God. Music helps to move my mind—as gravity moves a boulder.
And, indeed, I have found—at least while these are new to me—these versified prayers have helped my mind to orbit a better center. But even more, the effort to modify them without changing them has required me to contemplate the text more on its own terms, to enter into it, attempting to grasp its native intuition—the essence that must remain the same. God forbid I should turn these prayers into reflections of myself! The goal has been to make the words flow, but to keep them as the property of the Church, by retaining the Church's content intact.
That's the aim, but, “Wisdom is known by her children.”
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