Text No. 1, 2, 5, 8
Martin Luther

Text No. 2, 3, 4, 6, 7
Salomo Franck, 1715

First performance
Unknown,
probably after 1729/31

The introductory chorus features no prelude, opening directly as a fugal motet with doubled instruments. By additionally integrating the cantus firmus in a two-part canon, Bach raises the archaic motet, a form well suited to the venerable occasion, to a setting of exceptional grandeur. To this end, the continuo group is divided into an accompanying part for violoncello and harpsichord, and a melodic bass part for organ and violone that underscores the thee oboes presenting the same melody two octaves higher. The chorale bass voice, generally played on the organ pedals or on a trombone, is played in our recording on a 16-foot contrabassoon, the instrument Bach used in version IV (1749) of his St John Passion.
In the ensuing duet, the urgent, unison string lines set over a rumbling continuo perfectly enhance the spur-rattling text and the victorious coloturas. It is music of a truly Lutheran pen, with a setting that signifies the act of baptism as a symbol of the New Covenant and Christ’s matyrdom as the source of solace. The combination of a ritornello aria with a chorale setting posed Bach with a considerable challenge, particularly in the cantabile middle section. While the ever-present energy of the strings enforces consistency, the reuse of the chorale as an additional, figured voice – both textually and instrumentally – lends the first two cantata movements the character of a partita through which Bach seemingly reconciles his duties as court organist and concertmaster.
The bass recitative takes up the notion of the blood sacrifice of Christ, but interprets the eschatological struggle as a perpetual fight against the world and Satan. The closing arioso section, which speaks of the unity of Christ’s soul and the human heart, is so replete with sharps that it appears Bach had well understood the Lutheran books so prominent in his theological library: despite the promise of mercy, it is audibly difficult for humans to make their lives subservient to the healing act of penitence. Thus, Luther’s theology of the Cross is revealed as a severe message, whose painful energy is released in a continuo coda of almost Schumann-like character.
The soprano aria “Come in my heart’s abode”, among the best of Bach’s Weimar-style arias, presents a tender hymn of love in which anxious hope is balanced by awareness of one’s own unworthiness. After a defiant middle section, the movement closes with a reprise of even greater heights and poignancy.
Set in D major, the battle music of chorus number five “And were the world with devils filled” marks an abrupt shift in tone. The unison setting of all vocal parts – highly rare in Bach’s oeuvre – evokes a sense of denominational unity, while the lively “military gigue”, cited here in the medium of art music, suggests the chorale singing of the faithful thousands gathered in the main churches of Leipzig. An appealing mix of congregational hymn and Brandenberg concerto, this setting makes apparent the potential unleashed by the Leipzig council in appointing the talented Kapellmeister and organist to the position of Thomascantor. The moving tenor recitative, a sharp reminder that faith is the true path to victory of the spirit, leads the listener back from the communal level to the individual soul. Then, in the sermon-like conclusion “Thy Saviour is thy shield”, the continuo and soloist unite in a blissful cantillation.
The following duet is introspective in character. The Leipzig version opens with solo parts for oboe da caccia (not used in Weimar) and violin, before the alto and tenor voices enter in tender harmonies. Although the opening text criticises the hollow recital of prayer as compared with the true faith of the heart, Bach does not exploit this theme in dramatically contrasting tones. Rather, the composer is “at cross purposes” with the libretto, giving both the weak and strong of faith equal opportunity to find loving solace in the blissful rapture of the music. These evocative tones then engender a triumphant middle section that quotes the quarrelsome music of the second movement; in the calm conclusion, however, the ultimate goal of crowning life with a Christian death is rendered clearly audible.
The closing chorale responds with words of unified strength. Nonetheless, the fatalistic lines “Our body let them take, Wealth, rank, child and wife, Let them all be lost, And still they cannot win;” remain painful to endure. Indeed, one cannot help but wonder if the aging Luther, in his intense bereavement for his beloved daughter Magdalena, had cause to regret such high-flown rhetoric.