King of Glory, King of Peace (Charles H. Giffen)
- Editor: Charles H. Giffen (submitted 2021-04-03). Score information: Letter, 4 pages, 105 kB Copyright: CC BY NC SA
- Edition notes: SATB with descant. The sound file plays the tune through once with a wind quartet (oboe, English horn, French horn, trombone) before the entire hymn is "performed" with descants, etc.
- Editor: Charles H. Giffen (submitted 2021-04-03). Score information: Letter, 4 pages, 110 kB Copyright: CC BY NC SA
- Edition notes: Choir score, with descant and voicing indications.
- Editor: Charles H. Giffen (submitted 2021-04-03). Score information: Letter, 1 page, 48 kB Copyright: CC BY NC SA
- Edition notes: Single page, hymnal style score (no descant).
Title: King of Glory, King of Peace
Composer: Charles H. Giffen
Hymn tune: Graf
Lyricist: George Herbert (1593-1633)
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB with Descant
Genre: Sacred, Hymn Meter: 74. 74. D or 76. 76. D (trochaic)
Description: All seven stanzas of George Herbert's text are set to the composer's tune Graf, adapted from 76. 76. D to 74. 74. D meter. The descant on stanzas 3-4 is just the alto part up an octave (altos sing the melody). A separate descant is provided for stanzas 5-7. Note that in other settings, notably to the tune Gwalchmai, stanza 6 is frequently omitted. In the presen work, it is possible to omit stanza 6, simply by jumping directly to stanza 7 after stanza 5.
Original text and translations
Praise (2) by George Herbert (1593–1633),
published posthumously in The Temple, 1633.
King of Glory, King of Peace,
I will love Thee:
And that love may never cease,
I will move Thee.
Thou hast granted my request,
Thou hast heard me:
Thou didst note my working breast,
Thou hast spared me.
Wherefore with my utmost art
I will sing Thee,
And the cream of all my heart
I will bring Thee.
Though my sins against me cried,
Thou didst clear me;
And alone, when they replied,
Thou didst hear me.
Sev'n whole days, not one in seven,
I will praise Thee.
In my heart, though not in Heaven,
I can raise Thee.
Thou grew'st soft and moist with tears,
And when Justice call'd for fears,
Small it is, in this poor sort
To enrol Thee:
E’en eternity’s too short
To extol Thee.