New Utrecht
Reformed
Church

You are invited to enter this sanctuary in a spirit of silence. There will be no announcements during this Tenebrae Service so we ask you to follow your program closely, to know when to sing or when to join in responsive prayer. You are invited to stand only for the congregational hymns. There will be no collection taken this evening but a plate will be placed at the back of the church.

Opening Meditation (prayed responsively)
from the book, Gates of Repentance

Perhaps some of the blame falls on me,
BECAUSE I KEPT SILENT, UTTERED NO CRY.
Fear froze my heart and confused my mind.
AND I DID NOT RESIST THE LIE.
My clear voice was choked and dumb.
AND I ALLOWED THEM, WITHOUT PROTEST,
to outrage and violate
WHO WAS DEAREST TO ME, HOLIEST.
COWARDICE CAME DOWN AND WALKED THE EARTH.

We hid our true feelings from one another,
WE DID NOT HEAR THE CRY OF A FRIEND.
And our own cry we often had to smother.
DARK SUSPICION, LIKE THE PLAGUE, MURDERED FAITH,
and left our hearts cold.
COURAGE WAS BRANDED TREASON.
Betrayal was called heroic, bold.
LIGHT HUNG ITS HEAD IN SHAME.
Waiting that at least one person should cry out:
‘NO!’ BUT NO ONE CRIED.
Only one thing was left — the patience to wait,
TO WAIT THAT JUSTICE MIGHT PREVAIL ONE DAY.
Perhaps that was part of my blame,
THAT I KEPT SILENT, DID NOT SPEAK,
As though I has nothing to say.


When I Survey the Wondrous Cross
Isaac Watts, 1707; alt. Galatians 6: 14; Philippians 3: 7-8

1. When I survey the wondrous cross,
on which the Christ of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
and pour contempt on all my pride.

2. Forbid it, then, that I should boast,
save in the death of Christ, my God;
All the vain things that charm me most
I sacrifice them to Christ’s blood.

3. From sacred head, from hands, and feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown?

4. Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.


THE FIRST MEDITATION: Matthew 23: 32-34

Two others who were criminals were led along with him to be crucifies. When they came to the place of Skulls, as it was called, they crucified him there and the criminals as well, one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, “Father, forgive them: they do not know what they are doing.” They divided his garments, rolling dice for them.


G.I. Who Pulled the Trigger Shares Anguish of 2 Deaths


Ah, Holy Jesus
Johann Heermann, 1585-1647
Trans. By Robert S. Bridges, 1844-1930
HERZLIEBSTER JESU 11 11 11.5.
Johann Crüger, 1598-1662

1. Ah, holy Jesus, how hast thou offended,
That man to judge thee hath in hate pretended?
By foes derided, by thine own rejected,
O most afflicted!

2. Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon thee?
Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone thee!
’Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee;
I crucified thee.

3. Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered;
The slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered;
For man’s atonement, while he nothing heedeth,
God intercedeth.

4. For me, kind Jesus, was thy incarnation,
Thy mortal sorrow, and thy life’s oblation;
Thy death of anguish and thy bitter passion,
For my salvation.

5. Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay thee,
I do adore thee, and will ever pray thee,
Think on thy pity and thy love unswerving,
Not my deserving. Amen.


THE SECOND MEDITATION: Matthew 27: 45, 46

From noon onward, there was darkness over the whold land until midafternoon. Then toward midafternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, eli, lema sabachthani?” : “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Behold the Wood
Dan Schutte
(Kybd 134 - Guit 102)

Refrain
Behold, behold the wood of the cross,
on which is hung our salvation.
O come, let us adore.

1. Unless a grain of wheat shall fall upon a ground and die,
it shall remain but a single grain and not give life.
(Refrain)

2. And when my hour of glory comes as all was meant to be,
you shall see me lifted up upon a tree.
(Refrain)


THE THIRD MEDITATION: John 19: 25-27

Near the cross of Jesus that stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. Seeing his mother there with the disciple whom he loved, Jesus said “Woman, behold your son.” In turn he said to the disciple, “There is your mother.” From that hour onward, the disciple took her into his care.


1,000 in Texas Attend Memorial for 9 Killed in Iraq

At the Cross Her Station Keeping
Stabat Mater
(K 90 - G 72)

1. At the cross her station keeping,
Stood the mournful mother weeping,
Close to Jesus to the last.

2. Through her heart, his sorrow sharing,
All his bitter anguish bearing,
Now at length the sword has passed!

3. O how sad and sore distressed,
Was that mother highly blessed
Of the sole begotten Son.

4. Christ above in torment hangs
She beneath beholds the pangs
Of her dying, glorious Son.


THE FOURTH MEDITATION: Luke 23: 35-43

One of the criminals hanging in crucifixion blasphemed him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Then save yourself and us.” But the other one rebuked him: “Have you no fear of God, seeing you are under the same sentence? We deserve it, after all. We are only paying the price for what we’ve done, but this man has done nothing wrong.” He then said, “Jesus, remember me when you enter your reign.” And Jesus replied, “I assure you: this day you will be with me in paradise.”

THE FIFTH MEDITATION: John 19: 28, 29

After that, Jesus, realizing that everything was now finished, said to fulfill the scripture, “I am thirsty.” There was a jar there, full of common wine. They stuck a sponge soaked in this wine on some hyssop and raised it to his lips.

I decided that I would not move...I knew that I would never have the strength to fight with a dozen savage men! Not far away I noticed an old man dragging himself on all fours...His eyes gleamed; a smile, like a grimace, lit up his dead face. A shadow had just loomed up near him. The shadow threw itself upon him. Felled to the ground, stunned with blows, the old man cried:

Alas! And Did My Savior Bleed
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
MARTYRDOM CM
Hugh Wilson, 1766-1824

1. Alas! And did my Savior bleed,
And did my Sovereign die?
Would he devote that sacred head
For sinners such as I?

2. Was it for crimes that I have done,
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! Grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

3. Well might the sun in darkness hide,
And shut his glories in,
When God the mighty maker died
For man the creature’s sin.

4. Thus might I hide my blushing face
While his dear cross appears;
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
And melt mine eyes to tears.

5. But drops of grief can ne’er repay
The debt of love I owe;
Here, Lord, I give myself away;
’Tis all that I can do. Amen.


THE SIXTH MEDITATION: John 19: 30

When Jesus took the wine, he said, “Now it is finished.”

Dag Hammerskjold, Markings

    Peace – as when long bitterness has been dissolved by tears: the ground bare. Glitter of wide waters in the soft light –
    Around me the soft walls of the thaw haze. The cloud ceiling is low, an orange shimmer in the setting winter sun.
    In the mirror-world of the water, pale olive against pewter, the bare branches of an alder tree flap slowly, as in a gentle breeze, to the imperceptible movement of the waves.
 
And then:
    In the soft darkness the lonely flame surrounded by a womb of warm light. The hyacinth, a white cloud above the deep well of gloom in the mirror, barely glimpsed, glittering through the whispering forest of books.
 
Not for us now, perhaps never for us:
    In the silence the ring of the telephone forever subtracts the conversation we have run away from but never shall escape.
    Beneath the hush a whisper from long ago, promising peace of mind and a burden shared.
    No peace which is not peace for all, no rest until all has been fulfilled.

O Sacred Head, Now Wounded
Medieval Latin, attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153)
German paraphrase by Paul Gerhardt, 1656
Translated by James W. Alexander, 1830; alt.
Isaiah 53; John 19: 1-3

1. O sacred Head, now wounded with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, your only crown,
How pale you are with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How does your visage languish which once was bright as morn!

2. What you, dear Savior, suffered was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but yours the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior, for I deserve your place;
Look on me with your favor, O grant to me your grace.

3. What language shall I borrow to thank you, dearest friend;
For this your dying sorrow, your pity without end?
May I be yours forever; and though my days be few,
O Savior, let me never outlive my love for you!


THE SEVENTH MEDITATION: Luke 23: 44-46

It was now around midday, and darkness came over the whole land until midafternoon with an eclipse of the sun. The curtain in the sanctuary was torn in two. Jesus uttered a loud cry and said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” After he said this, he expired.

15.9.
 
    Over three hundred of us died each day in the Ghetto, even before they began to load us on to the waggons, drawn by emaciated horses, which were to take us to the slaughter.
    Their corpses lay about on the pavements and sidewalks, where we stumbled over them in passing. A number of those dying in the streets sat on the pavements, their backs leaning against the walls, their bodies huddled together. Their legs were bent under them; their pale hands outstretched, and their dull eyes speaking, but their lips dumb... After they had breathed their last, they lay there prostrate, sprawling with outstretched hands and feet along the pavements. Their dread of Sherinski, the apostate, Chief of the Jewish Police, Jew baiter, had left them for ever. Death did not rebuke them. Stretch yourselves out! You, who are withered from hunger and bloated through starvation, sprawl yourselves out to your hearts’ content. At first, the living who passed by turned aside respectfully and humbly. Whoever, as a result of the congestion on the sidewalks, accidentally treads on your hands will no longer hurt you. On the contrary, whoever treads upon the tips of your fingers, will jump away as if he had been bitten by a snake. He will yell out with pain... I, myself, screamed out in agony. It was thus that I trod on the palm of a corpse.

FINAL CONGREGATIONAL HYMN (please stand)
“Sing, My Tongue, the Song of Triumph”
(sung to the tune of “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence”)
sING, my tongue, the song of triumph,
Tell the story far and wide;
Tell of dread and final battle,
Sing of Savior crucified;
How upon the cross a victim
Vanquishing in death he died.

He endured the nails, the spitting,
Vinegar and spear and reed;
From that holy body broken
Blood and water forth proceed:
Earth and stars and sky and ocean
By that flood from stain are freed.

Faithful Cross, above all other,
One and only noble tree,
None in foliage, none in blossom,
None in fruit your peer may be;
Sweet the wood and sweet the iron
And your load, most sweet is he.

Bend your boughs, O Tree of Glory!
All your rigid branches, bend!
For a while the ancient temper
That your birth bestowed, suspend;
And the king of earth and heaven
Gently on your bosom tend.

You are asked to leave the sanctuary in silence.