Text No. 1–5
Salomo Franck (1659–1725)

Text No. 1, 6 (Choral)
Christoph Knoll (1563–1621)

First performance
Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity,
27 September 1716

The introductory movement is based on a cryptic theological reference that links the fervent longing for one’s own death to the sweet honey that Samson harvested from the mouth of a slain lion (Judges 14). Capturing this mood, Bach opens the movement with a delicate trio setting for two transverse flutes and basso continuo whose head motive transforms even the notoriously lamenting sighs of these instruments into a tender cantilena. The alto soloist then enters, supplemented by a chorale melody played on the organ in bright, sesquialtera registration; in the later version the chorale insertion is instead scored for soprano, who sings the first verse “Heartfelt is now my yearning”.
The tenor recitative then answers with a veritable tirade against the world. Capitalising on the wordplays typical of librettist Salomo Franck, such as “Lust ist Last” (delights are burdens), the movement exposes various forms of deceptive beauty and false security, in which even the much-discussed comet that appeared around 1700 and was widely seen as a godly omen garners a mention. The recitative ends with an arioso passage alluding to the dictum “I desire to depart and be with Christ” from St Paul’s epistle to the Philippians, a passage that Buxtehude, Bach’s teacher, also set to music.
The tenor aria is underscored by a string ensemble, whose discreet rhythmic impulse shifts all emphasis onto the key word of “Verlangen” (desire); throughout the course of the movement, the vocal line seems to emerge from this material. The setting is graced by a particularly well-set viola part, and requires soulful music-making across complex phrasing and dramatic rests. Despite the lustre of the tenor lines, the lowness of the register restrains any brilliance – even in the vibrant middle section, the music remains a modest and insightful prayer.
The alto recitative is set as an accompagnato that employs the distinctive timbral combination of strings and transverse flutes. Throughout the setting, a veritable scene evolves that traverses from images of fear, to the knell of death and fanfares of resurrection. The rendering of the “sleep of death” is particularly effective here, with the sustained chords by the transverse flutes allowing the loving hands of the saviour to extend into the music.
This is followed by an enchanting ensemble movement in which Bach melds a rhythmic, speech-like string motive and a fluid transverse flute line with such finesse that the contrasting effect is enhanced rather than blurred. With its swirling wind parts and basset-style string writing the music is similar to the closing movements of the Brandenburg Concerti that Bach was soon to commence work on. The transparent choral setting, with its reflective style of voice pairings, creates the effect of an aria for four voices and, in various passages, anticipates Bach’s Passion compositions. By virtue of short phrases that progress to clear cadences, the movement possess a tangible charm that Bach does not attain again until composing his courtly occasional cantatas of the 1730s.
While the timbral quality of the transverse flute effectively expresses both life’s transience and a pastoral vision, the closing chorale brings any wavering to a brutal close with its pronouncement on the end of human existence that necessarily precedes any access to paradise. Here, the extremely subdued vocal setting is supplemented by a transverse flute obbligato, whose floating whirls can only be interpreted as the winds of eternity. In contrast to the untroubled equanimity of the preceding choral aria, this movement presents an unadorned view of the open grave: in this infinitely sad setting, we hear note for note that despite all rhetoric on the afterlife, the loss of parents, friends and children was as acutely painful in 1725 as it is today.