'Hymns are the poetry of the people’, said Sir John Betjeman in the 1970s. This Poet Laureate is now memorialised in Westminster Abbey, along with many other poets, writers and performers in a space known as Poets’ Corner. In this series, join us as we explore a few of these poets whose words were turned into hymns and anthems, which are sung in Christian churches around the world.

Hello, I’m The Reverend Mark Birch, I’m the Precentor, one of the Minor Canons, and today I’m going to explore poet William Blake and the hymn, ‘Jerusalem’.

William Blake was a visionary painter and poet of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. ‘Jerusalem’ was written originally as part of a larger poem, published in 1808, called ‘Milton, a Poem in Two Books.’ It didn’t become a hymn until over a century later, when Hubert Parry (the composer of the famous coronation anthem ‘I was glad’) was asked to set it to music in 1916, as a song to bolster national morale during the Great War. Its stirring melody and vision of a renewed political order meant it was quickly taken-up by Suffragists (those campaigning for women to be given the vote) and the recently-formed Labour Party.

In four short verses, Blake speculates on the rather unlikely idea of Jesus (the ‘holy Lamb of God’) once visiting England, and what that idea might mean, centuries later, to Blake’s country of ‘clouded hills’ and ‘dark Satanic mills’ (a possible reference to the social and environmental ills of the Industrial Revolution).

He wrote in the wake of revolution in France, and the American Declaration of Independence, and the poem is a call-to-arms for a shaking-off of old shackles, and for the establishing of a holy society (a holy city, indeed) in a renewed, ‘green and pleasant Land.’

The final verse draws on the Old Testament book of Nehemiah, where, in response to threats from local tribes during the re-building of the walls of Jerusalem in the 5th century BC, ‘each of the builders had his sword strapped at his side while he built’. Nehemiah insisted that even whilst they slept they should be constantly ready to defend; remaining fully-clothed, and ‘each kept his weapon in his right hand’. Blake turns this a metaphor for his ‘mental fight’ against the political, religious, and economic forces that threaten, constrain, and deaden the human soul.

The Lamb of God walking on England’s pastures green seems historically unlikely, but it resonates with the sense of a land with a divine purpose and destiny (an echo of the ‘manifest destiny’ that drove American settlers across that continent). Blake is in the end hopeful that, through our determination and vigilance, we can bring this land to a holy fulfilment.

Blake was no fan of Monarchy, nor of Established Religion (the Church of England in particular), and yet ‘Jerusalem’ has become an anthem of Englishness for conservatives and radicals alike. It is regularly sung with gusto at weddings, in the chapels of public schools, and, traditionally, at meetings of The Women’s Institute. It is sometimes to be heard at large sporting events, and formed part of the opening ceremony for the London Olympics in 2012.

In the Abbey it is only ever heard at weddings, including that of Their Royal Highnesses The Prince and Princess of Wales in 2011.

Let’s take a listen to this short clip.

And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

The simplistic answer to Blake’s question would be ‘no’, but that would be to miss the force of the idea. Jerusalem, as an idea, represents the perfect holy society of humankind with one another and with God. This goes some way to explaining why the physical city remains such a dangerously contested place – Jerusalem means more than any place on earth can truly bear.

And yet, Blake tantalizes us with the thought that such a perfect society might have been, and might yet be, even ‘here’, in the midst of all the current clouds and darkness.

The Incarnation (God becoming fully human in Jesus) suggests that God deals in the particular; in particular places and particular times. We do not have to reach back in time for Jesus; His resurrection and ascension make him ‘here and now’, every bit as much as ‘there and then.’

These lines remind me that what we do here and now really matters; that ‘building Jerusalem’, or ‘overcoming evil with good’ in St Paul’s words, is Christ’s work both here and now, and always and everywhere. The question is, will we join in?

Thank you for joining me today. To listen to the full hymn, and other recorded performances, please search for “The Choir of Westminster Abbey” on your chosen music streaming platform. Alternatively, you can purchase CDs from Westminster Abbey’s shop. We’d love to welcome you at one of our services at Westminster Abbey.