Text
Poet unknown

First performance
Ninteenth Sunday after Trinity,
3 October 1723, Leipzig

In the introductory chorus to cantata BWV 48, Bach lends the wretched words of Paul, “A poor man am I; who will set me free from the body of this dying?” a musical interpretation that reveals much about the composer’s associative reading of the Bible. The movement opens with a bittersweet ritornello by the strings, which, underpinned by a sparse double bass line, is more a subdued confession of sorrow than a heated expression of despair. Indeed, it is precisely the lack of terrifying rhetoric that heightens the impact of the movement: although the text speaks of personal apprehension, it is not the acute sin of the individual that is at issue but the fundamental depravity of humankind under the law of God, a message that is expressed in its full rigour by the setting’s archaic motet style and the masterful double canon for the vocalists and obbligato instruments. Respite from this repressive music is offered solely by the chorale melody – intoned in canon by the winds – “Lord Jesus Christ, I cry to thee”, whose wordless presence, coupled with the helplessly questioning conclusion of the movement, throws into relief the seemingly insurmountable distance between mortals and their Saviour.
This is followed by an impassioned alto recitative replete with despair: the depravity of human nature and its poisoning by the burden of sin renders the whole world a “house of death and sickness”. In this passage, Bach presents a series of painful interpretations in which harmonic severity, falling dissonances and effective pauses converge to pronounce a truly devastating verdict. It is difficult to imagine that the composer, ever open to new ideas, did not draw upon his exposure to the death scenes so popular in early baroque opera.
The following chorale represents a return to a familiar form of solace and congregational unity; its inclusion allows for a moment of distanced reflection, an effect also achieved by the hymn verses inserted in the Passion compositions. Nevertheless, its bold, otherworldly setting – especially the line “Continue on, Refine me there” – ensures that the chorale remains embedded in the emotional drama of the cantata. Indeed, Bach lent the chorale such an exquisite harmonic language that it goes beyond all collective tradition to express an individual acceptance of penance and suffering in this world.
With a distinctive oboe obbligato, the alto aria echoes the sad and gentle character of the introductory chorus, while the Old-Testament metaphor of Sodom couples personal sin and weakness, thus underscoring this familiar trope of baroque Bible interpretation. The individual effort required to transform the soul of the believer into the holy Zion is, however, made abundantly clear in the childlike simplicity of Bach’s musical gesture. As the ensuing tenor recitative succinctly reveals, this transformation is achieved with the helping hand of the Saviour, who can not only raise the dead, but also revive and strengthen those who are dead of soul.
With such solace in sight, the tenor is buoyed in the following aria to a spirit of generous character and defiant determination that could hardly have been predicted at the beginning of the cantata. In this sacred minuet with its echoes of a pithy Schemelli hymn, gratitude and humility are suspended in miraculous balance over a subdued orchestral fundament.
The closing chorale “Lord Jesus Christ, my only help” resolutely upholds this aura of cautious yet pious hope. After overcoming their crisis of faith, the “weak in spirit” can now (unlike in the opening chorus) join in the singing, but the chorale is an audible reminder that such participation requires unceasing insight into the unfathomable workings of the Almighty.