Let no tongue on earth be silent.

The below post was originally a talk given on Michaelmas, at St Michael and All Angels, Mount Dinham, on Saturday 27 September 2025. Some of the text has been adapted to reflect the different audience reading this post.

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Spain, the late 4th century. In the cooling evening sun a Spanish poet sits down to write. 

England, the mid 19th century. A translator paces, trying to find the right metre for this particular 4th century hymn. He stops, hit with inspiration and, gripping his pen with ink-stained hands, writes:
Let no tongue on Earth be silent,
Every voice in concert ring.
Evermore and evermore.

In late September we celebrate the feast of Michaelmas. Michaelmas speaks of the end of summer, the start of autumn, a turning from the old to the new, to fresh harvests, and beyond to the approaching winter. It is the Magnificat to its twin, in Candlemas’s Nunc Dimittis. Where that festival marks the turn from Epiphany to Lent, so Michaelmas serves to turn from the power of creationtide towards the coming kingdom, the glory of Advent, and the joy of Christmas. The seasons turn, and we continue on, year after year, evermore and evermore. 

John Mason Neale knew what he was doing when he translated Of the father’s heart begotten. Prudentius’ great Christmas hymn speaks of the unchanging, unchangeable nature of Christ. He is Alpha and Omega, he the source, the ending he. Eternity, eternal, forever. Evermore and evermore. 

We are of the father’s heart begotten and we forget this at our peril.

Michaelmas turns to autumn, to Advent, to Christmas. 

It is at Christmastide where this world we inhabit - this world of cassocks and hassocks and surplices and song - insists itself on the secular world. The BBC interrupts its normal weekly rhythm and routine to replace it with a brief foray into a new, ancient rhythm. A lens in Kings beams incomprehensible beauty, fragments of fellowship to a fractured world.

It is Christmas when the world at large sees this small, infinite universe and peers in, spectators onto something spectacular which happens without spectacle day in and day out, and but for this one TV treat, for the vast majority of the world it goes unseen, unheard, unrealised.

It is something which for centuries has happened evermore and evermore. 

Except I suspect neither John Mason Neale nor Prudentius ever imagined that the ‘unwearied praises’ might not be ‘evermore and evermore’.

With Evensong - Notes from the Choir, I have written a celebration of something ancient and present; intangible, and yet real. Something which feels under threat and, without voices speaking out - singing out - may fizzle and, if not die, retreat and be a shadow of its former self. The book is an explanation of it to those who come at it sight unseen. Those who might only hear this world - hear of this world - at Christmas. It is a world so self-confessedly niche that I have made that word a part of my branding identity. But it is not niche because we seek to exclude others, but because so few know of this world. 

So few understand it. And without understanding, there is silence. Let no tongue on earth be silent.

That understanding is key. Sheffield Cathedral sacked its choir, and then reformed it. From the ashes rose a stubborn choral phoenix, patchwork itinerant singers, bringing choral music to churches across the area. Not everywhere is so fortunate to forge something positive from ignorance. Peterborough Cathedral is at risk. Winchester has been rife with issues. I need barely mention Bangor Cathedral, though I must because the petition to save the cathedral choir is still active and you can sign it today*. Even St Michael’s Mount Dinham, this church itself was saved from becoming another statistic, by those who cherish churches and are moved by music.  

Evermore and evermore starts to feel more like a hopeless wish than an ancient hymn promising to bring music to the heart. Let no tongue on earth be silent. 

The midwinter is not entirely bleak. There are chinks of light shining through. 

Recent statistics showed that attendance at midweek cathedral services in 2024 rose 10% from the previous year. It’s still not at pre-pandemic levels, but the direction is right. Midweek cathedral services. On the social media page I run, I recently made light of a serious point - the better to bring it to light, as is often my intent - noting that, clearly ‘midweek cathedral service’ was ‘evensong’ by any other name. Admittedly, cathedrals do hold morning prayer and eucharists, but I haven’t seen a sudden influx of attendees at those services. The post precipitated an important subsequent exchange in the Church Times, with Tim Noon making this point more widely, and Ken Eames, who wrote the report, replying. An important conversation bringing to the fore the tireless work musicians do just to bring evensong to the masses day after day. Evermore and evermore. 

If people are attending evensong in increasing numbers, it behooves us to support and sustain the singing, not just in the great cathedrals, but in the parishes and the provinces, rooted in real work and grounded in goodness. 

The light which music brings is guttering and fading at a time when the world needs it most. It is not a feeble flame, but it is at risk of being starved and shut out. We need to fling open the doors, let the light out into the world, feed it, fan it, let it burn for all to see. And hear. 

We are all here - reading this blogpost - because of a deep love for choral music, for evensong. For this expression of something incomprehensible that we find through canticle and cantor, through psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. 

Two of my least favourite marketing phrases are “hidden gem” and “best kept secret”. My friends, if the thing you’re trying to promote is something you consider to be hidden or secret, then your promotional skills are poor. Evensong is often described as the Church of England’s best kept secret. I despise that. We must not hide the light of evensong under a bushel.

I invite everyone to bring a friend new to evensong to a service between now and Christmas. Reveal the gem; break the secret. 

Find the service with the right music for them. Maybe a lower voice plainsong setting isn’t the right starter - maybe it is. Bring a friend who might never have considered coming. Or find a friend you think might just need it. Do it again. See how many you can get to come back time and again, evermore and evermore.

One thing is clear. We must not be silent. Neither silent in our music, nor in our fierce defence of that music and what it means to those composing it, to those breathing it into life, to those hearing it, and to him for whom it was written, and for whom it is sung. 

O ye heights of heaven adore him;
Angel hosts, his praises sing;
Powers, dominions, bow before him,
and extol our God and King!
Let no tongue on earth be silent,
Every voice in concert sing,
Evermore and evermore!

*The petition was still open at the time of sharing this, 28/09/25