Tune
The hymn was sung to the melody Sarum, by Victorian composer Joseph Barnby, until the publication of the English Hymnal in 1906. This hymnal used a new setting by Ralph Vaughan Williams which he called Sine Nomine (literally, "without name") in reference to its use on the Feast of All Saints, November 1, or the first Sunday in November, All Saints Sunday in the Lutheran Church. It has been described as "one of the finest hymn tunes of century."
While most English hymn tunes of its era are written for singing in SATB four-part harmony, Sine Nomine is primarily unison (verses 1,2,3,7 and 8) with organ accompaniment; just three verses (4, 5 and 6) are set in sung harmony. The tune appears in this forms in most English hymnbooks (for example English Hymnal (641), New English Hymnal (197), Common Praise (232)) and American hymnals (for example, The Hymnal 1982 and the Lutheran Service Book (677)).
Since the 1990s, Some Presbyterian churches and groups affiliated with Reformed University Fellowship in the United States use a tune composed by Christopher Miner.
Read more about this topic: For All The Saints
Famous quotes containing the word tune:
“... our lives are like soap operas. We can go for months and not tune in to them, then six months later we look in and the same stuff is going on.”
—Jane Wagner (b. 1935)
“When Western people train the mind, the focus is generally on the left hemisphere of the cortex, which is the portion of the brain that is concerned with words and numbers. We enhance the logical, bounded, linear functions of the mind. In the East, exercises of this sort are for the purpose of getting in tune with the unconscious—to get rid of boundaries, not to create them.”
—Edward T. Hall (b. 1914)
“See where my Love sits in the beds of spices,
Beset all round with camphor, myrrh, and roses,
And interlaced with curious devices
Which her apart from all the world incloses!
There doth she tune her lute for her delight,
And with sweet music makes the ground to move,
Whilst I, poor I, do sit in heavy plight,
Wailing alone my unrespected love;”
—Bartholomew Griffin (d. 1602)