Text No. 1, 3, 5, 8, 10
Salomo Franck, 1717

Text No. 11
Christian Keymann, 1658

Text No. 2, 4, 6, 7, 9
Poet unknown

First performance
Twenty-sixth Sunday after Trinity,
21 November 1723, Leipzig

The opening chorus sets a scene of dramatic tension that is characterised by fanfare motives and contrasting energy: while the gesture of “Wachet!” (watch ye!) is somewhat brusque in style, the extended ­“Betet!” (pray ye!) figure takes shape as a long, beseeching moment of tonal suspension against the looming orchestral passages. Here, the sweeping gestures and purposeful harmonic development lend the movement an expansive character that anticipates the cantata choruses of Bach’s sons. In the more relaxed middle section, however, the disparate passages and unexpected developments evoke a sense of uncertainty: the end of the world will come, yet we know not the day or hour, and must be prepared.

The bass accompagnato is set as a great procession in which a baroque representation of justice is present in the brilliancy of the trumpet calls. That the collapse of earthly order represents not only an end, but also a promise for “God’s own elected children”, is implied in the arioso passages. The alto aria then responds with a mellifluous cello cantilena, which is assigned to the organ in an alternative (possibly later) version. In this movement, the urgency to repent in face of the “final hour” (interpreted here as deliverance from the inner “Sodom and Egypt” of sin and bondage) is not declared as a thundering prophecy, but rather as a poignant, brotherly warning. Yet the struggle of the “weak flesh” to remain true to this “heavenly longing” is felt all too clearly in the tenor recitative, whose unsparing soul-searching culminates in an imperfect cadence on the words “sorrowful alas!” The following soprano aria then unfolds as music of great fortitude and strength, with resolute unison strings layered over an energetic continuous bass: despite all derision and scorn, “Christ’s word… stands unshaken” – a statement Bach underscores with high long-notes. Indeed, the certainty of experiencing the vision of the saviour inspires even the continuo to a brief, ascending passage of elation (“for it will and has to happen!”). Accordingly, the tender tenor recitative offers a glimpse of the “heavenly Eden”, ere the chorale “Now be glad, O thou my spirit” (added for the Leipzig version) closes the first part of the cantata in flowing, triple metre.
The aria “Lift high your heads aloft” opens the second part of the work with a long overture and sonorous string setting that radiates a warm sense of fullness and trust. Seldom has a two-part cantata fulfilled its function as the framework for a sermon so effectively: the comforting promise of redemption, so potently elucidated by the predicant, is musically interpreted here in a powerful tenor solo that, although mellifluous, also reveals a confident hero. Indeed, no triumphant commander holds forth, but rather a sanguine coach who ensures his charges are prepared for each and any difficulty.

Nevertheless, “doubting, fear and terror” make a final return, and the “child of sin” in the ensuing bass accompagnato can barely resist the temptation crowding in from all sides. Consolation, however, is at hand through the integration of the chorale melody “Es ist gewißlich an der Zeit, daß Gott der Herr erscheinet”, sounded wordlessly by the trumpet – a bold innovation that works not only to transform the movement’s form: indeed, with the chorale’s Cantus Firmus and its message of Christ’s return throning over the racing orchestra and floundering vocal part, the chaos of the Last Judgement as part of the divine plan is thrown into sharp relief, lending Bach’s setting of this scene a theological dimension.

The much slower aria “O most blest refreshment day” is music of inspired surrender that calls to mind parts of Handel’s oeuvre and Bach’s bass cantatas. Even the recurring signal motives of the presto middle section are no longer cause for distress, but instead proclaim ecstatic joy – all fear has been overcome; the Judgement can be emphatically affirmed. A misleading caesura – which sees the “End” as simply a passage to true life – then leads back to the adagio, whose suspended movement is a masterly musical reflection on the word “stillness”. After this grandiose triptych of fear of death, transition and arrival, one could hardly expect the work to scale further heights. Yet Bach masters even this challenge with apparent artistic ease: by suffusing the closing chorale verse with an all but surreal light through three obbligato violins, he evokes a tender forcefulness that longs to mercifully redeem the most unrepentant souls. The selected hymn text “Not for world, for heaven not” makes all too clear that the final purpose is not a measurable price, nor even the attainment of heaven, but only the arrival in God’s hands. Indeed, although this outcome could not have been foreseen at the cantata’s opening, it provides a theologically correct as well as philosophically profound solace, for which we may well envy Bach’s Weimar and Leipzig congregations…