"Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber"

A few weeks ago over the phone my dad said something about me that has rung often in my ears ever since. He said "Margaret, you just like for things to be calm." And it was one of those moments when something is so true that it just makes you want to laugh. Ever since I was a child, and I still like to think of myself as one, I've shied away from conflict and tried to dissolve any strife.

All of these thoughts have been in the forefront of my mind lately as I've been contemplating this anthem: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DYXaU2nxv8

There's nothing quite like the melodic line of this song-- lilting but soaring at the same time. Arnesen is a master at composing, but what has especially struck me is Isaac Watts' text, much of which Arnesen omits for the sake of succinctness. This poem tells the story of a mother singing her child to sleep. We watch her go from comforting her child: "Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber,/ Holy angels guard thy bed!/ Heavenly blessings without number/ Gently falling on thy head," to the throes of frustration at the injustice done to her Lord in the scarce conditions of his birth: "Yet to read the shameful story/ How [we] abused [our] King,/ How [we] served the Lord of Glory,/ Makes me angry while I sing." (Whether Watts was aware of it or not, I find the original designation problematic; I believe all of us, even this sweet mother, are implicated in the injustices done to Christ while He was with us.)

It's clear how fraught this mother is by the "affront" the manger was to the "heavenly stranger" in Bethlehem so many years ago. This surprised me. It's incredibly rare for a lullaby to be interrupted with such frustrations, and part of me thinks righteous anger has no place in a lullaby. We have to wonder, why would Watts choose to interrupt the lovely stream of comforts from this mother's lips with rhetorical, pointed, and almost accusing questions? She's meant to be singing her child asleep. We could dismiss Watt's words here as a didactic interjection, a forced authorial intrusion, but I think there must be more going on underneath the surface.

There has always been something in me that recoils against anger, that senses a wrongness in anger. But when the anger stems from an injustice done to the King of Kings, is the anger righteous? Is anger ever truly righteous? I'm learning that perhaps anger has a place in this poem, and indeed even in the poems of our lives. It is not meant to be dismissed, but I do think it is meant to dissolve. Anger and frustration is not meant to have the last word. And it doesn't in Watt's poem. The mother draws her attention from what "makes [her] angry" back to the child in her arms and she entreats her child to "see" the "kinder shepherds" and the "lovely babe" in Bethlehem. It seems to me that the child in her arms and the child in the manger serve the same purpose for this mother. They both direct her to what is most important-- not her own response at injustice, but to the One who solves all injustice in a way her anger never could. And perhaps what stands above all of this to me is how the song lilts into story-telling. It is when we tell each other stories that our own sentiments can fall away, and the proper way of seeing things can rise to the surface, seeping into our visions and transforming our impressions. We get to look on as Christ works upon this mother's heart as she tells His beautiful story. She ends her song with a benediction for her child, forming wishes which are the "greatest joys" a mother can desire, more powerful than any protective anger could ever be:

"May'st thou live to know and fear Him,

Trust and love Him all thy days;

Then go dwell for ever near Him,

See His face and sing His praise."