Twice, yesterday, we heard from friends about grievous personal losses. In one case, they’re reeling from the sudden death of a brilliant, adult, but still relatively young daughter. In the other, our friends mourn the passing of a three-year-old granddaughter who had suffered from health issues throughout her short life.
There are perhaps no experiences in this life that are more painful, and our hearts and prayers go out to them. And yet there’s really nothing that we can do to help. Our mortal words fail, utterly. Only God and his promises remain.
I’ve been thinking, since yesterday, of a beloved piece of choral music, “David’s Lamentation,” by William Billings (1746-1800), who is generally regarded as America’s first choral composer. King David’s son, Absalom, was (very unlike the cases of our friends) utterly unworthy — he died while in armed rebellion against the throne and his father — but, understandably, David loved him nonetheless. Billings’s almost-verbatim and very brief setting of 2 Samuel 18:33 beautifully captures a father’s grief:
David the king was grieved and moved;
He went to his chamber, his chamber, and wept,
And as he went, he wept and said,
“Oh my son! Oh my son!
Would to God I had died!
Would to God I had died for thee!
Oh Absalom, my son, my son!”
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