“Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence” has long been a favorite hymn of mine. This is partly because my mother loved it, so from an early age I was exposed to the simple, solemn grandeur of both the words and the melancholic tune. As I grew older and had a better comprehension of the lyrics, they continued to evoke a response that went straight to my heart and soul—perhaps because I’ve always had a weakness for the mysterious, exotic tones of anything written in a minor key.
This unusual hymn gained popularity as a Christmas carol after composer Ralph Vaughn Williams set the text to the French carol “Picardy” in 1906. But the lyrics are far older than that: it’s from the ancient Liturgy of St. James, dating from the 300’s, so it is actually part of the Catholic Mass. This means both the force and the simplicity of the words are not an accident. It is a powerful bit of theology, intended to focus the worshipper’s attention on the altar in anticipation of the sacrifice, the part of the ritual where Catholics and Orthodox Christians believe their offering of bread and wine truly becomes the Body and Blood of Christ.
But what does a Christmas carol have to do with the dogma of Transubstantiation? On the other hand, how could any sincere consideration of the Word becoming flesh at least not skirt near the heart of that admittedly difficult and misunderstood teaching? To see these connections, take a closer look at the exquisite words of this song, as they offer a multi-layered glimpse into different aspects of the mystery of the Incarnation.
The first stanza directs our attention to the altar, but the mind’s eye is also led to meditate on the moment Mary agreed to the angel’s message, that universe-shaking instant when the Word descended from Its glorious throne in Heaven to became flesh within the Virgin’s womb, nine months before Christmas:
Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly-minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descendeth,
Our full homage to demand.
The next part makes a more direct connection between Christ’s earthly, human birth from Mary, and His enfleshment in the hands of the priest at the altar, while also reminding us of the meaning of the word Bethlehem (House of Bread):
King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heav’nly food
In the third part, even as we join our prayers with those of the heavenly host, we can also envision the night skies over Bethlehem ablaze with angelic choirs:
Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the pow’rs of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away
Finally, earthly time itself seems to stop, as for a moment we glimpse the praise and glory of the ongoing, eternal Beatific Vision:
At His feet the six-winged seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
“Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Lord Most High!”
These stanzas express three of the most important concepts in Christianity: the mystery of Eternity entering into time at the Incarnation, our joy at His revelation at Christmas, and His becoming flesh again on the altar.
“Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence” is a remarkable hymn for both its simplicity, versatility and beauty, and whether or not it’s sung during your Christmas service this season, it is well worthwhile to listen to and ponder at any time of year.
The following video offers its own highly unique interpretation of the hymn: