The Moldering Vine - Carrell, James P.

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"Words by Selah Gridley, apparently first published in 1795 in a newspaper, reprinted in a collection of his poems in 1828. This tune modified by William Hauser in The Hesperian Harp, 1848, and retitled ''Sons of Sorrow'', in three parts. The modified version appears in ''The Sacred Harp'', no. 332 from 1860 on; Alto part was written by S. M. Denson for the 1911 edition."

◈ Genre → Sacred

♯ Key F minor

⁄ Time Signature 4/4

♬ Voicing → SATB

◆ Difficulty

Beginner

↕ Range C3 – G5

¶ Language → English

Measures 19

Texture mixed texture

Parts 4

Instruments A cappella

Pages 1

CPDL # 42892

Editor Barry Johnston

Posted 2017-01-30

License Public Domain

♫Pitch Ranges

Tr.

F4 – G5

C4 – A-4

E-3 – A-4

C3 – C4

¶Lyrics / Text

<u>Social & Camp-Meeting Songs, 1822</u> 1. Hail, ye sighing sons of sorrow, Learn with me your certain doom Learn with me your fate tomorrow. Dead, perhaps laid in the tomb. See all nature fading, dying, Silent all things seem to mourn, Life from vegetation flying. Calls to mind the molding urn. 2. Lo! in yonder forest standing. Lofty cedars how they nod, Scenes of nature, how surprising; Read in nature, nature's God. While the annual frosts are cropping Leaves and tendrils from the trees, So our friends are yearly dropping We are like to one of these. 3. Hollow winds about me roaring. Noisy waters round me rise. While I sit my fate deploring. Tears fast streaming from my eyes. What to me is autumn's treasure. Since I know no earthly joy. Long have I lost all youthful pleasure. Time will health and youth destroy. 4. Former friends, how oft I've sought them, Just to cheer a troubled mind. Now they're gone like leaves of autumn, Driven before the dreary wind. When a few more days are wasted. And a few more scenes are o'er, When a few more griefs I've tasted, I shall rise to fall no more. 5. Fast my sun of life's declining Soon 'twill set in endless night. But my hopes pure and reviving, Rise to fairer worlds of light. Cease this trembling, mourning, sighing, Death shall burst this sullen gloom, Then my spirit, fluttering, flying, Shall be borne beyond the tomb. _________________________________ Baltimore, Maryland, Fourth Edition; First Edition 1818.