The Welcomer. The Sacristan. The Almoner. The "job titles" of a mediaeval monastery. Are we then, I ask myself, in our Church community, the modern equivalent of those monks who offered counsel, comradeship and hospitality along with Christianity?

At first glance, then, it would seem that that is our role. However, we do not only "meet and greet" and then pass our guests on to another member of the Church for their other needs to be met. In fact, it often seems that there is little time for welcoming amid the welter of "business" which our role requires.

To ensure that every member of the congregation is able to take part in the service, we must provide them with a service booklet and hymn sheet (or even a hymn book?!). To fail to do this would result in total confusion with almost everyone gazing around in a frantic bid to discover what was happening and in what order, and to try and make sense of a service with which, indeed, most of us are already familiar but which would dissolve into total chaos unless we are clutching these familiar props in our hands!

The service booklets and hymn sheets have to be assembled in sets ready to be handed out, and the preparation of these necessitates the arrival of the duty "Welcomers" at least 30 minutes before the start of the service. The actual assembling of the sets becomes a sort of relay race requiring considerable dexterity and co-ordination skills; the premature arrival of guests to be "welcomed" can disrupt the process to such an extent that the Welcomers feel they have settled into the role of shop assistants caught out discussion last evening’s episode of Coronation Street.

A task to be accomplished in parallel with that of assembling the service literature is counting the number of booklets given out, with a view to estimating as accurately as possible the number of people who may wish to take Communion, so that this information can be conveyed to the servers. This seems to involve considerable arithmetical contortions along the lines of counting adults, subtracting children, adding an extra percentage then taking away the number you first thought of. For someone like myself who never did pass ‘O’-level maths and has trouble setting the family dinner table with the correct quantity of cutlery, the job of Welcomer is now pushed into the realms of middle management, as is indeed the case with much else in the complexities of today’s world.

Once the service starts, however, we can relax a little and begin to enjoy it. That is, of course, if we can prevent marginal latecomers, scampering in only just on time, from being trampled underfoot by the inexorable progress of the Procession. The first part of the service is more enjoyable and offers time for reflection and prayer while listening to the readings, the psalm and the sermon, but we still need to be alert for latecomers, crying babies, restless children, and help them make their way to their chosen destination, whether a seat in the congregation or facilities in the Vestry. We also have to ensure that by this part of the service we have appointed a third person to join us in carrying the elements to the altar rail. This small Procession also requires some thought; do we do a slow march or a quickstep, in triangular or linear formation, and which of us will pass on the vital information about numbers?

This performance having been accomplished, and the required furniture removal completed to prevent the departing Procession of Clergy from falling in an undignified heap through tripping over the table holding the offerings, there is but one duty remaining for our Welcomers. After the reflective respite of intercessory prayers, we take up our position on either side of the centre aisle as stewards of the Communion progression. This requires not a little insight and planning: we do not wish to create a build-up of people causing a log-jam which is unnerving for the clergy and chalice-bearers, nor to cause lengthy gaps in the proceedings. We must somehow gauge the distance from pew to altar rail for those with long strides, short strides, crutches, walking sticks and zimmer frames, toddlers and babes-in-arms and ambling teenager, so that each can progress smoothly and at a suitable individual pace.

After Communion, our work is almost complete and we can truly revert to our role as Welcomer, collecting booklets and greeting friends and visitors at the end of the service. The chore of counting and stacking these can then be left to others and we are free to mingle with the rest of the congregation.

Pat Keniston

This year we are combining an ALMA, USPG and ONE WORLD event at our HARVEST FESTIVAL on Sunday October 16^th; so please make it a red-letter day and come along to both the Eucharist and to the Harvest Lunch (a Big Curry Feast, plus cooler alternatives), which follows it. We have a USPG speaker from the mission field in Africa (Diocese of Niassa) for our speaker and a former Archbishop of Central Africa for our preacher. The Most Reverend Donald Arden has recently returned from revisiting Central Africa and will be able to enlighten us on current issues there of mutual concern, including the progress of campaigns against malaria. AIDS and poverty; so do come along and listen to him and then join him and the rest of us for lunch at 12.30. Adults' tickets for the lunch will cost £5. Children can lunch free,

Our church at St Mary's is planning an exchange programme with our twinned parish of the Epiphany, Tete, in Mozambique, and with the church in Niassa, so that we can be more aware and better informed about the work and life of the Church in Mozambique. The delegation is still in process of selection; it is unlikely to include "the usual suspects"; it is hoped that youth will be represented alongside age and experience. The return visit of Tete to Stoke Newington is planned for 2008 so that they can help us celebrate ecumenically our one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the consecration of New St Mary's.

Meanwhile pray for our fellow-Christians in Mozambique and that our fraternal links with them may prosper.

Frances Jane Crosby (Fanny) was born in a one-story cottage in South East, New York on March 24, 1820. She was raised by her mother and Grandmother, as John, her father died before she was a year old.

When Fanny was six weeks old, she caught a slight cold in her eyes. The family doctor was away so another country doctor was called in to treat her. He prescribed hot mustard poultices to be applied to her eyes, which destroyed her sight completely. It was later learned that the man was not a qualified physician, but it was too late to prosecute him as he had left town and was never traced.

Her mother set about preparing her daughter for a happy life, in spite of this great handicap.  

When she was five years old she was taken to see the best eye specialist in the country, Dr. Valentine Mott. Neighbors and friends had raised the money in order to send her. The news was not good alas and Dr Mott told her "Poor child, I am afraid you will never see again." Fanny did not think she was poor and claimed that it was not the loss of sight that bothered her, but the thought that she would never be able to get an education like other boys and girls.

When she was just eight years old, to everyone's surprise, she wrote her first recorded poem:

When Fanny was around nine years of age, the family moved to Ridgefield, Connecticut, where she was to stay until age 15. Her mother was kind but busy making a living for both of them, so it was her Grandmother who became the major influence in her life. She spent many hours describing the things of nature and heaven to her, and also introduced Fanny to the Bible and this book was to become more familiar to her than any other.

It is said that, as a child, she could repeat from memory the Pentateuch, the book of Ruth, many of the Psalms, the books of Proverbs, Song of Solomon, and much of the New Testament! This supplied the themes and inspiration for almost all of her later work.

Near her 15th birthday she was sent to a new school, The Institution for the Blind in New York City. She was to spend the next 23 years of her life there, as a student for twelve years, and then as a teacher for eleven years more.

From early childhood she had felt the urge to write poetry, and at the institution her abilities began to assert themselves with renewed force. Her teachers did not encourage her efforts but strangers did. William Cullen Bryant visited the school one day and gave her much encouragement, after chancing to read some of her verses. She said afterwards, "He never knew how much he did by those few words." This was all the encouragement that she needed.

Before her death, she witnessed over 8,000 of her poems set to music and millions of copies of her songs printed. As many as 200 different pen names were given her works by hymn book publishers so the public wouldn't know she wrote so large a number of them. She produced as many as seven hymn-poems in one day. On several occasions hearing an unfamiliar hymn sung, she would inquire about the author, and find it to be one of her own!

In the autumn of 1843, when she was 23, she was the guest of Congress; a group from the school had been sent there, endeavouring to secure an appropriation for its work. She paid tribute to Congress in original verse and then began paying tribute to the Lord. She spoke with conviction, as though she had seen the Saviour face to face. The notable assembly addressed included such men as: John Quincy Adams, Thomas E. Benton, Hamilton Fish, Henry A. Wise, Alexander Stevens, Jefferson Davis, and Robert Toombs. As a result of this witness, she began to make friends with the great political and religious leaders of her time and no one could forget her once they met her.

During her lifetime, she knew all the presidents except George Washington. President Van Buren dined with her and remained one of her warmest friends. When President Tyler came to the Institution for the Blind, Fanny welcomed him with an original poem. She enjoyed a close friendship with President Cleveland for more than half a century; at one time he had been the secretary of the Institution for the Blind while she taught.  

Many visitors came to the school making memorable occasions for all. Once, Jenny Lind came, she sang and Fanny Crosby recited her poem called, "The Swedish Nightingale."        

Her first book was published, when she was 24 was titled The Blind Girl and Other Poems.

She composed several popular songs and assisted in writing what was probably the first cantata published in America. At age 27, she became an instructor at the school, a position that she held until 1858.  

With all of her apparent devotion to Christ already shared in so many ways, it is hard to believe that she was not converted until 1851, age 31. This event occurred at a revival service held at the old John Street Methodist Church in New York, which she joined. Recalling the incident years later, she said: "After a prayer was offered, they began to sing the grand old consecration hymn, `Alas! And Did My Saviour Bleed?' and when they reached the third line of the fifth stanza, `Here, Lord, I give myself away,' my very soul was flooded with celestial light."        

When she was 20 she had fallen in love with another blind student by the name of Alexander van Alstyne. He was especially fond of music and was captivated by her poems. She, likewise, was fascinated by his sweet strains of music. He also became a teacher and for over 15 years their friendship bloomed. Finally, on March 5, 1858, they were married. She was 37.   

The marriage was a happy one and was to last for 44 years, until his death in 1902. The couple had one child, which died in infancy. Perhaps this incident helped inspire Fanny to write, Safe in the Arms of Jesus, which has gone on to comfort thousands of grief-stricken parents suffering in similar situations.        

Upon her marriage, she intended to use the name Mrs. van Alstyne, but her husband insisted that she continue to use her maiden name, which was already quite famous.

Later, the couple united with the Thirtieth Street Methodist Church in New York. Fanny Crosby remained a lifelong Methodist.        

Through Peter Stryker, the minister of a Dutch Reformed church in New York City, she met the well-known composer William Bradbury. He gave her a most cordial welcome: "Fanny, I thank God that we have at last met, for I think you can write hymns, and I have sought for a long time to have a talk with you." He suggested that she attempt a hymn for him that week. This was the opportunity that she was waiting for. In three days she returned and submitted her first sacred song, the first of many...

Pass Me Not was her first hymn to win worldwide attention. Acting upon the suggestion of her friend, William H. Doane, Fanny composed this in 1868 after a prison service. As she spoke to the prisoners, one cried out, "O Lord, don't pass me by!" She was so moved that she went home and wrote her famous plea. Ira Sankey said, "No hymn was more popular at the meetings in London in 1875 than this one."

Safe in the Arms of Jesus was considered by some to be her greatest hymn. One day, in 1868, Doane dropped by and said, "Miss Fanny, I have but a few minutes before my train leaves for Cincinnati but first, will you do me a favour before I board that train? I want a new hymn, which I can introduce for the first time at a convention that will capture the hearts and imaginations of the young people and children. There is to be a great statewide Sunday School convention in Cincinnati next month and, in addition to the large delegations of adults, many young people and children are expected to be present. We really need this new hymn." Having the tune already composed, he said, "Listen closely," and turning to the piano, he sat down and played his new tune in a rousing and stirring manner. Fanny said, "Your music says, `Safe in the Arms of Jesus.'" Going to her desk, she took out a piece of paper, found her pen, sat down, and began to write. As he played, she continued to write. She folded the paper, placed it in an envelope and handed it to her friend. Because his train was leaving in thirty-five minutes, she exclaimed, "Read it on the train and hurry, you don't want to be late!" On the train, he read the words that Sankey later made famous.

After Bishop James Hannington was brutally murdered in Uganda, his diary was recovered. In it, he tells of being dragged away to be murdered while singing Safe in the Arms of Jesus.   

Blessed Assurance is her most famous hymn, according to a hymn poll by The Christian Herald. It was placed twelfth in the poll of favourite hymns, The Old Rugged Cross was number one.

To God Be the Glory was not really discovered until 1954, when it was introduced to George Beverly Shea in London. Shea and the Billy Graham Crusade Choir first sang it in 1955, in Toronto. Since then, it has become a beloved hymn of the faith. Sankey did include it in his first hymnbook published in England in 1873, but it was not found in later subsequent editions published in America.        

The hymn-poems came with many composers adding the music. One time Philip Phillips brought her forty subjects for hymns. He returned several days later and, surprisingly, discovered that she had completed them all. She dictated all of them to him entirely from memory.

For a long period of time she was under contract to write three hymns a week for a New York publishing firm, Bigelow and Main. They purchased 5,900 poems from her and in her declining years of health provided a regular allowance for her. Her published books of poems were in addition to her first book of 1844 mentioned previously: Monterey and Other Poems (1849); A Wreath of Columbia's Flowers (1859); Bells At Evening and Other Poems (1898); and Memories of Eighty Years (1907).        

Sankey did more than any other single individual to popularize and immortalize Fanny Crosby's songs. The great crowds who thronged the Moody-Sankey revivals sang her songs until they became part of the heritage of that generation.        

At age 90 she declared, "My love for the Holy Bible and its sacred truth is stronger and more precious to me at ninety than at nineteen." Asked about her long years, she said her secret was that she guarded her taste, her temper and her tongue.        

Fanny remained active until her death. At age 92, she enjoyed her first visit to Harvard. Her latter days were spent in Bridgeport, Connecticut, with a Mrs. Booth, who cared for her. Shortly before her death, she penned her last lines "You will reach the river brink, some sweet day, bye and bye." On her last night, she dictated a letter of comfort to a friend, whose daughter had recently died. At three o'clock the next morning, Mrs. Booth found Fanny unconscious. She died just short of her 95th birthday.        

Her funeral filled the church with friends. The choir sang her favourite song, Faith of Our Fathers, then her own, Safe in the Arms of Jesus and Saved by Grace. Her minister, George M. Brown, of the Methodist church, said it well: " There must have been a royal welcome when this queen of sacred song burst the bonds of death and passed into the glories of heaven."        

At her funeral were read words from Eliza Edmunds Hewitt, the last verse of a poem freshly written. It said: "Goodbye, dearest Fanny, goodbye for a while; You walk in the shadows no more; Around you, the sunbeams of glory will smile; The Lamb is the light of that Shore!"       

You will find a casual quote on her grave in Bridgeport, Connecticut: "She hath done what she could"! Buried close by is P.T. Barnum, the circus tycoon - who laid up treasures on earth. Fanny's treasures were laid up in heaven.

This is an astonishingly original book. Its basic premise is this: four pilgrims enter the Judean desert to fast and pray for forty days.

In the distance behind them, shunning their company, is a Galilean named Jesus. We are told that he found religion as a passionate adolescent and has set off for the wilderness to the displeasure of his parents.

Here Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness are given life and texture. He crouches in a cave waiting for enlightenment, to get closer to God. Distancing himself from his fellow pilgrims – an infertile woman, a dying old man, a scholar seeking clarity and a nomad, reasons for pilgrimage unknown for he will not or cannot speak – Jesus sheds his clothes and resolves to let neither food nor water pass his lips for forty days.

It is clear he wants to leave society behind but finds that even in the wilderness there is a society of sorts. While the other pilgrims cleave together to share provisions and stave off loneliness, Jesus resists any temptation.

Unluckily for him, though, this rag tag community thinks that he can perform miracles.

They think he may be able to offer them redemption. This is because he may have saved the life of a man whom everybody would have been happy to see die.

This man, Musa, is the nemesis of this novel. A scheming, malicious, deeply unpleasant merchant abandoned to illness by his fellow travellers, his character grows increasingly capable of darkness. If they are to survive, the pilgrims - and Musa’s wife, must resist him as much as they must battle against the terrible heat, cold and thirst of the desert.

Writing about Jesus in such a context is of course a brave move and there will be many among you who would disagree with Crace’s portrayal of him as an impetuous creature barely past boyhood.

Depictions of how anyone could live in those times are beautifully depicted, with fascinating detail of the customs of the day. There is also a moving portrayal of female friendship, and the redemption that humanity can bring.

Can such a novel give us an insight into what our Lord may have gone through? Indirect speech portrays the struggles of his body and his mind; from initial joy at shouting prayers into the wind to the gradual crumbling of mind, body and even spirit – no one is immune here. But a resurrection may be sighted too. I suggest you give it a read and decide.

Many cathedrals, however, have now added nave sections to boost congregational singing. For example, on your next visit to St. Paul’s Cathedral, observe the two original organ cases (magnificently carved by Grinling Gibbons) sited in the chancel and facing each other above the choir stalls. Unseen, though, are the added sections of the organ in the north quarter-gallery of the dome and also – added more recently in 1977 - at the west end. When played together, these can increase the total strength of the instrument by up to six times the power of the original organ, and are often brought into use when the cathedral is full.

In sum, the most effective place for an organ is either on a screen placed in front of the congregation, or - even better - standing in a west gallery.

Notebooks still exist which reveal details of services in the early years of the New Church’s history. In a handsomely bound book covering the period 1858-1873 there is a hand-written record of Sunday services and their preachers. It also includes details of services – "On Sundays, three Full Services at 11, 3.30, and 6.30; on Christmas Day – Full Service at 11, Prayers at 3; on Good Friday, three Full Services at 11, 3.30 and 6.30; on Ascension Day – Full Service at 11." (etc.). Every one of the so-called Full Services carried a sermon, each preacher’s name being duly recorded.

Holy Communion was administered " on every Sunday in the year and on Christmas Day, Good Friday and Ascension Day".

Certainly at the outset, services of Holy Communion were never regarded as Full Services. Matins and Evensong were the principal services on a Sunday and always the best attended. (Civic services would have brought in the Mayor and the Council). The ‘importance’ given to Matins on a Sunday morning perhaps goes some way to explaining the fierce reaction to the service alterations mentioned in our previous article. But there was practically no opposition to the introduction of music at the Communion Services. Although at first this may seem surprising, it was probably because it was thought by many that Holy Communion was something that happened before nine on a Sunday morning, and (on certain Sundays) after the Full Service of Matins was over, at midday.

Choral Communion Services, with a full choir, were begun soon after the consecration of the church.

The choir performed several settings of the Responses to the Commandments, but the Creed was always sung to a monotone, presumably to allow the congregation to join in. The Sanctus was sung to a simple setting, likewise the Gloria (in its Prayer Book place – at the end of the service). One of two hymns completed the musical contribution to the service. Longer and more complex musical settings were yet to come. When they did, the congregation became silent participants in the services, and the Choral Eucharist at St. Mary’s New Church became a cathedral-like service.

(In all of this, the Old Church across the road played no part. Services were held at identical times, and its congregation remained completely separate).

St. Mary’s Choir of boys and men breathed a sigh of relief when their new choir vestry was added at the southeastern end of the New Church in 1887. It had custom-built fitted cupboards to house the cassocks and surplices, and, though some have since been commandeered for other purposes, these are still in place today (the hooks for the boys’ cassocks remain!). A large music cupboard was also provided, with 160 numbered spaces specially designed to house music sheets. Today, this houses a large collection of anthems (many remain from the Victorian period), as well as more modern settings and carol books etc. Time and damp, however, have taken their toll of the large wooden doors, which are now seriously warped.

The choir vestry also gained a new Broadwood grand piano near the end of the nineteenth century, which ended its life parked in the church almost one hundred years later, its protective cover long gone, its original sound practically unrecognisable and its action worn out.

You will also need a very large saucepan

Cook the peas
Place the peas in a pan and pour in enough water to cover, then add 1 onion, 1 bayleaf and the thyme.  Bring it to a gentle simmer, put the lid on and cook for about an hour, or until the peas are tender.

Drain off the water and reserve.  Discard the thyme and bay leaf.

Cook the bacon
Place the bacon in a large pan along with 1 onion, 1 carrot, 2 bay leaves and the peppercorns.  Cover with water and bring to a gentle simmer.  Put the lid on and cook very gently for 1 1/2 hours.  When the bacon is tender transfer to a dish.  Keep the stock.

Cook the vegetables
Heat the butter in a medium sized saucepan and gently cook the remaining vegetables until softened. 

Transfer the softened vegetables to the bacon stock and add the split peas.  Simmer gently for a further 40 minutes.  Put the mixture through a food processor or sieve for a creamy texture. * (If you prefer, you could retain some of the chopped vegetables to add to the creamed soup with the bacon at the end). If the soup is too thick add some stock reserved from the peas.

I can personally recommend this recipe. Beryl brought a great pot of this soup to the Greenbelt festival for our shared evening meal on the first night. The evening had become rather chilly after a long, tiring, and rather sticky day. I can’t begin to tell you how welcome it was. And it was totally delicious. Do try it. JP

But I thought you were leading the procession.