Text No. 1, 3, 5, 7
Salomo Franck

Text No. 6, 10
Martin Jahn, 1661

Text No. 2, 4, 8, 9
Poet unknown

First performance
The Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary,
2 July 1723

The cantata “Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben” (Heart and mouth and deed and living), written for the Fourth Sunday in Advent in 1716, was the last sacred composition Bach composed during his tenure in Weimar. Because Leipzig’s stricter rules on fasting meant that no figural music was performed between the First Sunday in Advent and Christmas morning, Bach rededicated the cantata for the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary and performed it in its new, extended version for the first time on 2 July 1723. It was during this reworking that Bach added his famous chorale, best known under its English title “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”, which today is one of the master’s most frequently arranged works.

The opening chorus commences with fanfares of joyful anticipation. These are then interspersed throughout the series of imitative choral entries to concertante effect, and a brief, reflective interjection (“ohne Furcht und Heuchelei” – Without fear and falsity) is quickly integrated in the energetic setting. A second, harmonically charged presentation of the text then segues into an exemplary fugal exposition that leads the movement towards its brilliant conclusion. Although nominally in dacapo form, the movement is more a free rondo setting featuring a youthful combination of trumpet concerto, vocal fugue and choral aria.

Accompanied by shimmering strings, the tenor recitative expands on the notion of “bearing witness” from the introductory chorus; these words refer to Mary’s song of praise in the Magnificat, which the soloist presents as a liberating example in contrast to the impenitent silence of those of little faith. Indeed, compared with Mary’s submission, such reluctance to express faith is sinful inaction that will lead to an “awesome judgement” – an interpretation that addresses the expectation of the last days in the original conception of Advent. Fittingly, the orchestral accompaniment swells with dramatic tension, while the weighty pedal point in the continuo conclusion intensifies the threatening mood.

The following alto aria nonetheless proffers a gentle and inviting reminder: “Be ashamed, O spirit, not; This thy Saviour to acknowledge.” While the mild key of A minor provides a fitting tonality, the oboe d’amore lends a sonorous voice to the soloist’s words of encouragement. Expressed with such forbearance, even the threat of being denied by Christ on Judgement Day seems nought but a friendly payment reminder with a generous grace period…

The next movement, however, marks a considerable shift in tone – paraphrasing the “Deposuit potentes” verse from the Magnificat, the bass recitative provides a reminder that the mighty, too, will be thrust from their thrones by the Highest, while the meek and humble will be raised by his strong arm. In an arioso passage, this is taken as an opportunity to turn wholeheartedly to the approaching Saviour – a vision that is underscored by the quaver figures of the continuo part.

But Bach has yet to exhaust his box of musical tricks – over an ostinato-like quaver line in the continuo, the concertante violin in the soprano aria presents a dreamlike cantilena of industrious triplets that ideally paves the way for the vocalist in the same way that the text envisions the meeting between Saviour and faithful soul. In this touching miniature, grand appearance and simple humility meld to create a beatific, enraptured image of Mary that, in its Handelesque presence and lightness, captivates every listener.

Part one of the cantata then closes with the serene, flowing line of the G major chorale; the text is taken from a hymn of 1661 by Martin Jahn that is otherwise not well known. As in a “Dance of the Blessed Spirits” long before Gluck’s ballet interlude, the weight of the world disappears and we gain a glimpse of how life might be if humans could approach each other in a spirit of friendship, without artifice and fear. Here, the instrumental voices and choir meld into one body of music in a motion that could not seem more natural.

After the sermon, part two of the cantata commences with a tenor aria that centres around the cry of “Hilf, Jesu hilf!” (Help, Jesus, help) – the very shortest of all prayers, and one which Bach, too, wrote at the top of his cantata scores (Jesu Juva) before he began to compose. Here, the pithy head motive of the continuo, divided between an instrumental line and triplet figures on the two keyboard instruments, develops into effortless, elegant coloraturas.

The alto recitative then extols the wondrous power and mysterious ways of the Almighty that inspired the unborn John the Baptist to a testimony of faith. Textually, this verse on the visitation of Mary to Elizabeth highlights the new occasion of the cantata; musically, the murmurs of the two oboes da caccia, suggestive of Christmas, make it possible for us to experience the Magnificat as a heartfelt prophesy that remains inspiring to this day.

The trumpet returns in the bass aria, providing a counterbalance to the victorious drive of the sabre-rattling orchestra and the continuo squadrons. The heroic bass part of this defiant, annunciatory aria is well-suited to this imagery; the way this brief setting condenses towards the end is of great declamatory mastery. A reply is then given by the equally relieved and heartfelt affirmation of the repeated chorale – indeed, seldom have listeners so longed for a reprise than in this cantata, whose rich preceding movements serve to bring out the full effect of this glorious setting.