Luther’s Formula Missae, written after his break with Rome, did not suggest a wholesale reform of the Catholic mass. Rather, Luther cautiously suggested ways of adapting the Mass for use in local congregations and also proposed ways to make it more relevant to the common people.
Introduction
Martin Luther (1483–1546) came reluctantly to liturgical change. In the midst of growing enthusiasm for reformation, he was afraid that any liturgical dictum from his hand would be quickly snatched up, widely printed, and applied as a new law. He did not want anyone saying, “This proposal Luther writes is the only true way to do Christian worship.” Rather, he believed that liturgical change depended upon actual pastoral circumstances and that it always had to be preceded by education and accompanied by love. Furthermore, if only the gospel of Christ was clearly preached, the character of the ceremonies hardly mattered. His own taste, like that of the common people he meant to serve, seems to have run generally toward the conservation of visually dramatic ceremony and the encouragement of good, participatory music.
Finally, asked repeatedly by his friends and irritated by the widespread use of liturgies created by his enemies, he had to act. In 1523, he published his Formula Missae, the “Order of Mass and Communion for the Church at Wittenberg.” He would return to the task in 1526 with his “German Mass.” In the same years, he also published two different proposals for doing baptism and two essays about what is important in worship. But the first of these works, the Formula, is the one which has had the greatest and longest-lived influence among Lutherans and the one which stands at the root of North American Lutheran liturgy. It is the text which, in edited form, is printed here.
There are three important things to note about this text. In the first place, it is not a liturgy. Luther, in fact, never produced an actual liturgy. This text is neither a service book nor a manual of liturgical prayers. Rather, it is an essay discussing how to use evangelically the traditional liturgy and liturgical books of the church. It is that discussion which is important to Luther, not the imposition of a particular set of prayers. He is concerned with the order of things and their meaning in that order. Indeed, the best of the Lutheran tradition continues to be a discussion about the meaning and evangelical use of catholic material, not the production of required texts.
In the second place, the essay is about “how we do it in Wittenberg.” Luther knows that other congregations and cities may take his pattern as their own, but he wants to avoid the unthinking application of a new law. Liturgy, while it receives universal material and traditions, is always local, always done here, in our particular way. And Luther wants any liturgical change to be preceded by teaching and preaching. Change must be for the sake of the clarity of the gospel, not because of the authority of the preacher.
In the third place, the liturgy which Luther here envisions is celebrated in Latin. Luther calls for a sermon in the language of the people, but here he is still proposing a liturgy in the old language of the church, sung by the priest and a choir, with the people sometimes entering in, if they knew the chant. Later, he would interweave vernacular hymnody with this Latin rite, and then he would see the old liturgical texts brought over into singable German. But, for now, he uses a Latin mass, sung in a church with an educated choir. He could, of course, count on such a choir being present in Wittenberg, a university town with scholars at every level.
The reader, then, ought to imagine a medieval parish or collegiate church in Wittenberg. The old statues and stained glass are all still in place. There is a choir of schoolboys and university students near the altar, at the east end of the building. There is a great crucifix over the altar. Candles are burning. The people are seated on benches or standing against the walls. There is a high pulpit against one wall, in the midst of the people. And the clergy are mostly vested in the old mass vestments, although the preacher may very well be wearing a black university gown.
Grace and peace in Christ to the venerable Doctor Nicholas Hausmann, bishop of the church in Zwickau, saint in Christ, from Martin Luther.
Until now I have only used books and sermons to wean the hearts of people from their godless regard for ceremonial; for I believed it would be a Christian and helpful thing if I could prompt a peaceful removal of the abomination which Satan set up in the holy place through the man of sin [Matt 24:15; 2 Thess. 2:3–4]. Therefore, I have used neither authority nor pressure. Nor did I make any innovations. For I have been hesitant and fearful, partly because of the weak in faith, who cannot suddenly exchange an old and accustomed order of worship for a new and unusual one, and more so because of the fickle and fastidious spirits who rush in like unclean swine without faith or reason, and who delight only in novelty and tire of it as quickly, when it has worn off. Such people are a nuisance even in other affairs, but in spiritual matters, they are absolutely unbearable. Nonetheless, at the risk of bursting with anger, I must bear with them, unless I want to let the gospel itself be denied to the people.
But since there is hope now that the hearts of many have been enlightened and strengthened by the grace of God, and since the cause of the kingdom of Christ demands that at long last offenses should be removed from it, we must dare something in the name of Christ. For it is right that we should provide at least for a few, lest by our desire to detach ourselves from the frivolous faddism of some people we provide for nobody, or by our fear of ultimately offending others, we endorse their universally held abominations.
Therefore, most excellent Nicholas, since you have requested it so often, we will deal with an evangelical form of saying mass (as it is called) and of administering communion. And we will so deal with it that we shall no longer rule hearts by teaching alone, but we will put our hand to it and put the revision into practice in the public administration of communion, not wishing, however, to prejudice others against adopting and following a different order. Indeed, we heartily beg in the name of Christ that if in time something better should be revealed to them, they would tell us to be silent, so that by a common effort we may aid the common cause.
We therefore first assert: It is not now nor ever has been our intention to abolish the liturgical service of God completely, but rather to purify the one that is now in use from the wretched accretions which corrupt it and to point out an evangelical use.
Commentary: Luther’s work is addressed to one of his friends, the pastor of a congregation in a neighboring town. He calls this pastor “bishop” because he believes the pastor and presider in any Christian congregation is the present occupant of the New Testament office of bishop and is more important than the regional princes and hierarchs which the medieval church called “bishop.” He continues to use this title for the local pastor throughout this document.
Luther expresses his hesitations about doing liturgical work at all. He wants no innovations, no faddism. He wants no offense to the weak. He wants no universal rule which he determines. Nonetheless, against these fears, he decides to “dare something in the name of Christ.”
Any reader of Luther quickly discovers the passion, vigor, and earthiness of his language. He is hard on his opponents and colorful in his condemnations. He is equally passionate in his care for the people and his descriptions of the Gospel. This is not a measured and moderate theological treatise, such as one would have later from the hand of John Calvin.
Luther plans not only to write about the liturgy but to see it actually done in Wittenberg. He is not sure it should be done this way elsewhere, and he pleads for better work to be made known.
This last paragraph states the central Lutheran liturgical principle: not the invention of a new liturgy, even a supposedly “biblical” one, but the purification and evangelical use of the old liturgy.
Text Continues: First, we approve and retain the introits for the Lord’s days and the festivals of Christ, such as Easter, Pentecost, and the Nativity, although we prefer the Psalms from which they were taken as of old. But for the time being we permit the accepted use. And if any desire to approve the introits (inasmuch as they have been taken from Psalms or other passages of Scripture) for apostles’ days, for feasts of the Virgin and of other saints, we do not condemn them. But we in Wittenberg intend to observe only the Lord’s days and the festivals of the Lord. We think that all the feasts of the saints should be abrogated, or if anything in them deserves it, it should be brought into the Sunday sermon. We regard the feasts of Purification and Annunciation as feasts of Christ, even as Epiphany and Circumcision. Instead of the feasts of St. Stephen and of St. John the Evangelist, we are pleased to use the office of the Nativity. The feasts of the Holy Cross shall be anathema. Let others act according to their own conscience or in consideration of the weakness of some—whatever the Spirit may suggest.
Second, we accept the Kyrie eleison in the form in which it has been used until now, with the various melodies for different seasons, together with the Angelic Hymn, Gloria in Excelsis, which follows it. However, the bishop may decide to omit the latter as often as he wishes.
Third, the prayer or collect which follows, if it is evangelical (and those for Sunday usually are), should be retained in its accepted form; but there should be only one. After this the Epistle is read. Certainly the time has not yet come to attempt revision here, as nothing unevangelical is read, except that those parts from the Epistles of Paul in which faith is taught are read only rarely, while the exhortations to morality are most frequently read. The Epistles seem to have been chosen by a singularly unlearned and superstitious advocate of works. But for the service, those sections in which faith in Christ is taught should have been given preference. The latter were certainly considered more often in the Gospels by whoever it was who chose these lessons. In the meantime, the sermon in the vernacular will have to supply what is lacking. If in the future the vernacular be used in the mass (which Christ may grant), one must see to it that Epistles and Gospels chosen from the best and most weighty parts of these writings be read in the mass.
Fourth, the gradual of two verses shall be sung, either together with the Alleluia, or one of the two, as the bishop may decide. But the Quadregesima graduals, and others like them that exceed two verses, may be sung at home by whoever wants them. In church we do not want to quench the spirit of the faithful with tedium. Nor is it proper to distinguish Lent, Holy Week, or Good Friday from other days, lest we seem to mock and ridicule Christ with half of a mass and the one part of the sacrament. For the Alleluia is the perpetual voice of the church, just as the memorial of His passion and victory is perpetual.
Commentary: The liturgy begins. The choir is singing the Introit, that old fragment of a psalm which is a shortened version of the entrance psalm originally used in the Roman Mass. Luther would like to recover the whole psalm, but for now, the traditional introits stay in place. While the choir is singing, a procession enters, perhaps from the sacristy door on the side, perhaps from the great western door. Candles and a cross lead the way and the vested clergy follow, moving through the building and up to the altar.
In Wittenberg, this day is probably a Sunday, though it may be one of the days of the year which are regarded as “feasts of Christ”: i.e., Christmas, New Year’s Day (Circumcision), Epiphany, the Purification (February 2), Annunciation (March 25), Ascensino, or Transfiguration (August 6). While at this point Luther is proposing the elimination of the Saints’ days, the example of the saints as believers should be brought into the Sunday sermon nearest their old observances.
When the procession concludes, with the presiding priest, the “bishop,” standing before the altar, facing east, the choir takes up the chant of the nine-fold Kyrie (“Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy”), using one of the old chant tones. Many of the people may join in this singing.
Then the presider intones, “Gloria in Excelsis Deo,” “Glory be to God on high,” and the choir continues singing this old Roman rite entrance hymn.
Finally, the entrance is completed with the presider, still facing the altar in the east, intoning the collect which the old mass formularies appointed for this particular Sunday. This is the prayer of the day, the prayer which sums up and concludes the entrance into worship.
Many of the people will have been standing throughout this entrance. Now they will be seated, though some will continue to mill around and others will be standing against the walls. The presider, still standing to one side at the altar but now facing the people, reads a passage from one of the Epistles in Latin. In a few years, here, this passage will be read in German and may be read from the pulpit. In spite of Luther’s critique, Lutherans for the most part continued to read the old appointed readings, even when they shifted to reading in German. No matter what the reading, however, the teaching of “faith in Christ” was to be the business of the sermon.
The lesson finished, the choir takes up the chant again. They sing the traditional verses between the readings, the Gradual or the Gradual and Alleluia. Forbidden by Luther, they do not sing the longer versions of these, nor do they usually sing the Latin hymn, the so-called sequence which may sometimes follow here on great feasts. In spite of Luther, they generally continue to suppress Alleluia during Lent.
Text Continues: Fifth, we allow no sequences or proses unless the bishop wishes to use the short one for the Nativity of Christ: “Grates nunc omnes.” There are hardly any which smack of the Spirit, save those of the Holy Spirit: “Sancti Spiritus” and “Veni sancte spiritus,” which may be sung after breakfast, at Vespers, or at mass (if the bishop pleases).
Sixth, the Gospel lesson follows, for which we neither prohibit nor prescribe candles or incense. Let these things be free.
Seventh, the custom of singing the Nicene Creed does not displease us; yet this matter should also be left in the hands of the bishop. Likewise, we do not think that it matters whether the sermon in the vernacular comes after the Creed or before the introit of the mass; although it might be argued that since the Gospel is the voice crying in the wilderness and calling unbelievers to faith, it seems particularly fitting to preach before mass. For properly speaking, the mass consists in using the Gospel and communing at the table of the Lord. Inasmuch as it belongs to believers, it should be observed apart (from unbelievers). Yet since we are free, this argument does not bind us, especially since everything in the mass up to the Creed is ours, free and not prescribed by God; therefore it does not necessarily have anything to do with the mass.
Eighth, that utter abomination follows which forces all that precedes in the mass into its service and is, therefore, called the offertory. From here on almost everything smacks and savors of sacrifice. And the words of life and salvation [the Words of Institution] are imbedded in the midst of it all, just as the ark of the Lord once stood in the idol’s temple next to Dagon. And there was no Israelite who could approach or bring back to the ark until it “smote his enemies in the hinder parts, putting them to a perpetual reproach,” and forced them to return it—which is a parable of the present time. Let us, therefore, repudiate everything that smacks of sacrifice, together with the entire canon and retain only that which is pure and holy, and so order our mass.
After the Creed or after the sermon, let bread and wine be made ready for blessing in the customary manner. I have not yet decided whether or not water should be mixed with the wine. I rather incline, however, to favor pure wine without water; for the passage, “Thy wine is mixed with water,” in Isaiah 1 [:22] gives the mixture a bad connotation.
Pure wine beautifully portrays the purity of gospel teaching. Further, the blood of Christ, whom we here commemorate, has been poured out unmixed with ours. Nor can the fancies of those be upheld who say that this is a sign of our union with Christ; for that is not what we commemorate. In fact, we are not united with Christ until he sheds his blood; or else we would be celebrating the shedding of our own blood together with the blood of Christ shed for us. Nonetheless, I have no intention of cramping anyone’s freedom or of introducing a law that might again lead to superstition. Christ will not care very much about these matters, nor are they worth arguing about. Enough foolish controversies have been fought on these and many other matters by the Roman and Greek churches. And though some direct attention to the water and blood which flowed from the side of Jesus, they prove nothing. For that water signified something entirely different from what they wish that mixed water to signify. Nor was it mixed with blood. The symbolism does not fit, and the reference is inapplicable. As a human invention, this mixing [of water and wine] cannot, therefore, be considered binding.
Commentary: While the choir is singing, a procession forms again, the cross and candles being carried into the midst of the people, preceded by a cleric carrying incense and followed by another carrying a Gospel Book and by the presider. All the people stand to receive this procession. In the midst of the church, the procession gathers into a group around the book, and the presider then chants the appointed passage from one of the four Gospels. Though the candles and incense are sometimes omitted, they are not here. Indeed, in the dark church, candles are often needed to read the text of the book. And this text is always chanted. Even later, when the Gospel would come to be read in German rather than Latin, the “Gospel tone” was used for the reading. This sung text is able to make itself heard, reverberating into all the corners of the old stone church.
As the procession then makes its way back to the eastern end of the church, the choir takes up chanting the Nicene Creed, and the presider (or, sometimes, another priest, vested in the habit of a monastic teacher at the university) turns aside to climb into the pulpit which is near the people. When the creed is finished, the preacher begins the sermon. On some occasions, this vernacular preaching may be the first thing to occur, before the singing of the Introit. Such a placement continues the medieval practice of the friars, but Luther now gives this free-floating sermon an evangelical interpretation. And he sums up the whole of this first part of the mass, this chanting, and reading of Scripture and preaching, in the phrase “using the gospel.” But today in Wittenberg—and ordinarily—this use of the gospel takes place in the classic order: After the readings, which the preacher first repeats in the vernacular, the sermon makes the gospel of Jesus Christ available to be used by faith.
What follows now is the greatest Lutheran break with the medieval mass. The several prayers which the priest would recite at the preparation of the Table (“the little canon” of the offertory) and at the consecration of the elements (the “Roman canon” or the “great canon” of the mass) are simply excised. For Luther, all these texts stank of sacrifice, as if the Supper were something we were giving to God, not God to us. The preparation of the Table occurs, rather, in silence, and the prayer over bread and cup is reduced to elegant simplicity. What the people see, however, is essentially unchanged. They never took part in these prayers, in any case: The prayers were recited by the priest alone, sotto voce or even silently, facing the altar, and the people never had the book in which they were written. So, while the priest comes down out of the pulpit and begins to approach the altar, clerics near the altar are unveiling the chalice, spreading the corporal (the great linen cloth on which the vessels will stand), and bringing bread and wine from the side table (the “credence”). Today, only wine is used, as Luther counseled. No water usually is added to the chalice, though that is still sometimes done, albeit without the medieval prayers which used to accompany it.
Text Continues:
The bread and wine having been prepared, one may proceed as follows:
The Lord be with you.
Response: And with thy spirit.
Lift up your hearts.
Response: Let us lift them to the Lord.
Let us give thanks unto the Lord our God.
Response: It is meet and right.
It is truly meet and right, just and salutary for us to give thanks to Thee always and everywhere, Holy Lord, Father Almighty, Eternal God, through Christ our Lord who the day before he suffered, took bread, and when he had given thanks, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, Take, eat; this is my body, which is given for you. After the same manner also the cup when he had supped, saying, This cup is the New Testament in my blood, which is shed for you and for many, for the remission of sins; this do, as often as ye do it, in remembrance of me. I wish these words of Christ, with a brief pause after the preface, to be recited in the same tone in which the Lord’s Prayer is chanted elsewhere in the canon so that those who are present may be able to hear them, although the evangelically minded should be free about all these things and may recite these words either silently or audibly.
The blessing ended, let the choir sing the Sanctus. And while the Benedictus is being sung, let the bread and cup be elevated according to the customary rite for the benefit of the weak in faith who might be offended if such an obvious change in this rite of the mass were suddenly made. This concession can be made especially where, through sermons in the vernacular, they have been taught what the elevations means.
After this, the Lord’s Prayer shall be read. Thus, let us pray: “Taught by thy saving precepts … ” The prayer which follows, “Deliver us, we beseech thee … ” is to be omitted together with all the signs they were accustomed to make over the host and with the host over the chalice. Nor shall the host be broken or mixed into the chalice. But immediately after the Lord’s Prayer shall be said, “The peace of the Lord,” etc., which is, so to speak, a public absolution of the sins of the communicants, the true voice of the gospel announcing remission of sins, and therefore the one and most worthy preparation for the Lord’s Table, if faith holds to these words as coming from the mouth of Christ himself. On this account, I would like to have it pronounced facing the people, as the bishops are accustomed to do, which is the only custom of the ancient bishops that is left among our bishops.
Commentary: The presider now stands at the prepared altar. Turning toward the people, he begins the prayer at the Table—or “the blessing”—by the ancient exchange with people, sung according to the ancient tone. Many of the people know the Latin response and reply together with the choir. Then, turning toward the east, toward the bread and cup, the presider lifts his hands in the old posture of prayer and begins the thanksgiving.
The thanksgiving quickly comes to the recitation of the account of the Supper, and at the mention of bread and cup, the presider slightly lifts the paten (the plate for the wafer-form bread) and chalice in turn. Unlike medieval practice, this entire prayer, though simple and brief, is sung aloud in the old chant tone of the Lord’s Prayer so the people can hear it.
After the presider concludes Christ’s words over the cup, the choir begins to sing the Sanctus and Benedictus: Holy, holy, holy Lord God of Sabbaoth, heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.
While they are so singing, the priest lifts the bread and cup well over his head, so the people can see them, so they can behold these concrete signs of the mercy of God in Christ. Many of the people fall to their knees before this sight, just as they have done all their lives. Luther’s theology of the real presence of Christ “in, under, and with” the elements enables the churches following him to retain the elevation, as long as the people understand its significance.
The paten and chalice are then replaced on the altar and the presider sings, “Taught by your saving precept, we make bold to say,” whereupon he begins to chant the Lord’s Prayer in the traditional tone.
With these words and ceremony, the promise of Christ is claimed, a thanksgiving prayer is said, and the Table is blessed.
None of the medieval prayers which followed at this point, mostly prayers for forgiveness and for a good reception of communion, are recited. Rather, the priest turns to the people and greets them with the fragment of the ancient kiss of peace which still survives: He says, “The peace of the Lord be with you always.” A few voices answer with the traditional response: “And also with you.” They have been taught that this mutual greeting is the very voice of the gospel, announcing the forgiveness of sins, and that trusting this voice is enough of a preparation for a worthy communion.
Text Continues: Then, while the Agnus Dei is sung, let him [the bishop] communicate, first himself and then the people. But if he should wish to pray the prayer, “O Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, who according to the will of the Father,” etc., before communing, he does not pray wrongly, provided he changes the singular “mine” and “me” to the plural “ours” and “us.” The same thing holds for the prayer, “The body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve me (or thy) soul unto life eternal,” and “The blood of our Lord preserve thy soul unto life eternal.”
If he desires to have the communion sung, let it be sung. But instead of the complenda or final collect, because it sounds almost like a sacrifice, let the following prayer be read in the same tone: “What we have taken with our lips, O Lord … ” The following one may also be read: “May thy body which we have received … (changing to the plural number) … who livest and reignest world without end.” “The Lord be with you,” etc. In place of the Ite missa, let the Benedicamus domino be said, adding Alleluia according to its own melodies where and when it is desired. Or the Benedicamus may be borrowed from Vespers.
The customary benediction may be given, or else the one from Numbers 6 [:24–27], which the Lord himself appointed: “The Lord bless us and keep us. The Lord make his face shine upon us and be gracious unto us. The Lord lift up his countenance upon us, and give us peace.”
The bishop should also be free to decide on the order in which he will receive and administer both species. He may choose to bless both bread and wine before he takes the bread. Or else he may, between the blessing of the bread and of the wine, give the bread both to himself and to as many as desire it, then bless the wine and administer it to all. This is the order Christ seems to have observed, as the words of the Gospel show, where he told them to eat the bread before he had blessed the cup [Mark 14:22–23]. Then is said expressly, “Likewise also the cup after he supped” [Luke 22:20; 1 Cor. 11:25]. Thus you see that the cup was not blessed until after the bread had been eaten. But this order is [now] quite new and allows no room for those prayers which heretofore were said after the blessing, unless they would also be changed.
Commentary: Then the choir begins to sing the Agnus Dei (“Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us, grant us peace”), while the presider communes himself and the people begin to come forward to kneel at the altar rail and receive Communion themselves. They are given both the bread and the cup, the former by the presider and the latter by another cleric. Today, these words are used at the distribution: The body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve your soul into life eternal; and the blood of our Lord preserve your soul unto life eternal.
Luther’s reflections on a different order (prayer over the bread then distribution of the bread followed by prayer over the cup and distribution of the cup) remain only a literary conjecture for now, although later this rather awkward idea will be tried occasionally.
When the choir has finished the Agnus Dei and when they themselves have communed, they take up the chant of a passage of Scripture, called “the communion,” properly appointed for the day in the old missals. The presider, meanwhile, consumes what remains of the bread and wine and cleanses the vessels. When the choir has finished, he chants these prayers, facing the altar:
What we have taken with our lips, O Lord, may we receive with pure minds, and from a temporal gift may it become for us an everlasting remedy. May the body and blood which we have received cleave to our inmost parts. And grant that no stain of sin may remain in us whom this pure and holy sacrament has refreshed, O God, who lives and reigns, world without end. Amen.
The mass then comes quickly to a conclusion with the rites of Dismissal. Facing the people, the priest exchanges the greeting with them again. He then chants, “Let us bless the Lord,” the choir and some of the people responding, “Thanks be to God.” Then he extends his hands and intones the benediction. He and the other clerics leave and the people begin to move toward the door.
Text Continues: Thus we think about the mass. But in all these matters we will want to beware, lest we make binding what should be free, or make sinners of those who may do some things differently or omit others. All that matters is that the Words of Institution should be kept intact and that everything should be done by faith. For these rites are supposed to be for Christians, i.e., children of the “free woman” [Gal. 4:31], who observe them voluntarily and from the heart, but are free to change them how and whenever they may wish. Therefore, it is not in these matters that anyone should either seek or establish as law some indispensable form.… Further, even if different people make use of different rites, let no one judge or despise the other, but every man be fully persuaded in his own mind [Rom. 14:5]. Let us feel and think the same, even though we may act differently. And let us approve each other’s rites lest schisms and sects should result from this diversity in rites.… For external rites, even though we cannot do without them—just as we cannot do without food or drink—do not commend us to God, even as food does not commend us to him [1 Cor. 8:8]. Faith and love commend us to God. Wherefore here let the word of Paul hold sway, “For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost” [Rom. 14:17]. So the kingdom of God is not any rite, but faith within you, etc.
Commentary: Again Luther states the central principal: It is we who need ritual, like we need food and drink, not God who requires it. Therefore, the liturgy should rightly be traditional, but it must also be evangelical, a use of the gospel and a reception of Christ’s gift. The details of the ceremony must never be made into a new law.
(Text excerpted from “An Order of Mass and Communion for the Church at Wittenberg, 1523,” in Luther’s Works, vol. 53: Liturgy and Hymns, ed. by Ulrich S. Leupold [Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1965], 19–31.)