TO THE HANDS:
A CELEBRATION OF THE LEADERSHIP OF EARL RIVERS

Behold, upon the mountains 
the feet of one bringing good news 
and proclaiming peace.

Hail, salvation of the world, 
Hail, hail, dear Jesus! 
On Your cross would I hang 
Truly, You know why 
Give me Your strength.

The nails in Your feet, the hard blows 
and so grievous marks 
I embrace with love, 
Fearful at the sight of You 
Mindful of Your wounds.

Sweet Jesus, merciful God 
I cry to You, in my guilt 
Show me Your grace, 
Turn me not unworthy away 
From Your sacred feet.

Behold, upon the mountains 
the feet of one bringing good news 
and proclaiming peace.

Hail, salvation of the world, 
Hail, hail, dear Jesus! 
On Your cross would I hang 
Truly, You know why 
Give me Your strength

You will be brought to nurse 
and dandled on the knees 
[of Jerusalem, portrayed as a mother].

Hail Jesus, King of Saints 
Hope of sinners' prayers, 
like an offender on the wood of the cross, 
a man hanging, true God, 
Bending on failing knees!

What answer shall I give You, 
Vile as I am in deed, hard in my heart? 
How shall I repay Your love, 
Who chose to die for me 
Lest I die the second death?

That I may seek You with pure heart, 
Be my first care, 
It is no labour nor shall I be loaded down: 
But I shall be cleansed, 
When I embrace You.

You will be brought to nurse 
and dandled on the knees 
[of Jerusalem, portrayed as a mother].

what are those wounds 
what are those wounds in the midst of your hands 
in the midst 
what are those wounds 
what are those wounds in the midst of our hands

What are those wounds 
in the midst of Your hands?

Hail, Jesus, good shepherd, 
wearied in agony, 
tormented on the cross 
nailed to the cross 
Your sacred hands stretched out.

Holy hands, I embrace you, 
and, lamenting, I delight in you, 
I give thanks for the terrible wounds, 
the hard nails, the holy drops, 
shedding tears with kisses.

Washed in Your blood 
I wholly entrust myself to You; 
may these holy hands of Yours 
defend me, Jesus Christ, 
in the final dangers.

What are those wounds 
in the midst of Your hands?

[text by Caroline, responding to the 1883 sonnet “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus, which was mounted on the pedestal of the Stature of Liberty in 1903]

Her beacon-hand beckons: 
give 
give to me 
those yearning to breathe free 
tempest-tossed they cannot see 
what lies beyond the olive tree 
whose branch was lost amid the pleas 
for mercy, mercy 
give 
give to me 
your tired fighters fleeing flying 
from the 
from 
those yearning to breathe free 
those yearning to breathe 
i will be your refuge 
i will be your refuge 
i will be 
we will 
we will be your 
we will be your refuge

Arise, my love, 
my beautiful one, and come, 
my dove in the clefts of the rock, 
in the hollow of the cliff.

Hail, side of the Saviour, 
in which the honey of sweetness is hidden, 
in which the power of love is exposed, 
from which gushes the spring of blood 
that cleans the dirty hearts.

Lo I approach You, 
Pardon, Jesus, if I sin, 
With reverent countenance 
freely I come to You 
to behold Your wounds.

In the hour of death, may my soul 
Enter, Jesus, Your side 
Hence dying may it go into You, 
Lest the cruel lion seize it, 
But let it dwell with You.

Arise, my love, 
my beautiful one, and come, 
my dove in the clefts of the rock, 
in the hollow of the cliff.

[text by Caroline – the final line, in caverna, is from Buxtehude’s Ad latus – the line from the Song of Songs, in formanibus petrae, in caverna maceriae, or “in the clefts of the rock, in the hollow of the cliff”]

ever ever ever 
in the window sills or 
the beveled edges 
of the aging wooden frames that hold 
old photographs 
hands folded 
folded 
gently in her lap

ever ever 
in the crevices 
the never-ending efforts of 
the grandmother’s tendons tending 
to her bread and empty chairs 
left for Elijahs 
where are they now

in caverna 
in caverna

You have wounded my heart, 
my sister, my bride, 
You have wounded my heart.

Heart of the highest king, I greet You, 
I salute You with a joyous heart, 
it delights me to embrace You 
and my heart aspires to this: 
that You move me to speak to You.

Through the marrow of my heart, 
of a sinner and culprit, 
may Your love be conveyed 
by whom Your heart was seized, 
languishing through the wound of love.

I call with the living voice of the heart, 
sweet heart, for I love You, 
to incline to my heart, 
so that it may commit itself to you 
in the breast devoted to You.

You have wounded my heart, 
my sister, my bride, 
You have wounded my heart.

The choir speaks global figures of internal displacement, sourced from the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre. The numbers spoken are the numbers of internally displaced persons by country, in ascending order. These are people, some of whom may have legal refugee status, who have been displaced within their own country due to armed conflict, situations of generalized violence or violations of human rights.

Let Your face shine upon Your servant, 
save me in Your mercy.

Hail, bloodied head, 
all crowned with thorns, 
beaten, wounded, 
struck with a cane, 
the face soiled with spit

When I must die, 
do not then be away from me, 
in the anxious hour of death 
come, Jesus, without delay, 
protect me and set me free!

When You command me to depart, 
dear Jesus, then appear, 
O lover to be embraced, 
then show Yourself 
on the cross that brings salvation.

Amen

[text by Caroline – the final line is a reprise from the Zechariah text.]

I would hold you 
I would hold you 
ever ever will I hold you 
ever ever will I enfold you

in medio 
in medio 
in medio 
in medio  
in medio manuum tuarum