The Seasons (Timothy Swan)

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  • (Posted 2016-12-24)   CPDL #42397:       
Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2016-12-24).   Score information: Letter, 3 pages, 150 kB   Copyright: Public Domain
Edition notes: Oval note edition. MusicXML source file is in compressed .mxl format.
  • (Posted 2016-12-24)   CPDL #42396:   
Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2016-12-24).   Score information: 7 x 10 inches (landscape), 4 pages, 165 kB   Copyright: Public Domain
Edition notes: Note shapes added (4-shape).

General Information

Title: The Seasons
First Line: Eternal source of every joy
Composer: Timothy Swan
Lyricist: Philip Doddridge

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB
Genre: SacredAnthem

Language: English
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1801 in Swan's New England Harmony, pp. 64-68

Description: Words by Philip Doddridge, 1755, The year crowned with the divine goodness. For new-year's day, based on Psalm 65:11, in seven stanzas; amended by Timothy Swan in 1801 for this work. Swan used six of Doddridge's seven stanzas in his composition.

External websites:

Original text and translations

Original text and translations may be found at Eternal source of every joy.

English.png English text

Philip Doddridge, 1755

Eternal source of every joy!
Well may thy praise our lips employ,
While in thy temple we appear,
Whose goodness crowns the circling year.

Wide as the wheels of nature roll
Thy hand supports the steady pole:
The sun is taught by thee to rise,
And darkness when to veil the skies.

The flowery spring at thy command
Embalms the air, and paints the land;
The summer rays with vigor shine
To raise the corn, and cheer the vine.

Thy hand in autumn richly pours
Through all our coasts redundant stores;
And winters, softened by thy care,
No more a face of horror wear.

Seasons, and months, and weeks, and days
Demand successive songs of praise;
Still be the cheerful homage paid
With opening light, and evening shade.

Here in thy house shall incense rise,
As circling Sabbaths bless our eyes;
Still will we make thy mercies known,
Around thy board, and round our own.

O may our more harmonious tongues
In worlds unknown pursue the songs;
And in those brighter courts adore,
Where days and years revolve no more.

 

Timothy Swan, 1801

Eternal source of every joy!
Thy praise shall every voice employ,
While we within thy courts appear,
And sing the bounties of the year.

As worlds of glory round thee roll
Thy hand supports the steadfast pole:
Directs the sun what hour to rise,
And darkness when to veil the skies.

The flowery spring at thy command
Embalms the air, and paints the land;
The blazing beams of summer shine
To raise the corn, and cheer the vine.

Thy hand in autumn richly pours
The copious fruit along the shores;
While wintry storms direct our eyes
With fear and wonder to the skies.

Seasons, and months, and weeks, and days
Demand returning songs of praise;
The opening light and evening shade
Shall see the cheerful homage paid.






And O may our harmonious tongues
In worlds unknown pursue the songs;
And in those brighter courts adore,
Where days and years revolve no more.