Trinity Sunday provides us preachers with one of the toughest gigs of the year: the temptation is to spout some trite, childish analogy … perhaps you’d like to think of the Trinity like this: it’s like a plant, where the Father is the roots (unseen but life giving), the Son is the flower (to be seen and known), and the Spirit is the fragrance (you can’t see it, but you know it when you smell it).

Perhaps I should stop there, quit whilst I’m ahead. Maybe I’m in danger of committing that oldest of sins … trying too hard! If only we didn’t have three groups of young people in the hall, all with material to get through, whilst you have to sit here listening to me spouting on about something that I can’t really explain in any more depth than that analogy, which dates back to Tertullian.

So we’re left with two questions:

•   how does this thing called the Trinity affect our lives?

•   how can we honour what we call the Trinity?

Funnily enough, I hope I can provide you with a couple of thoughts on both those questions by looking at the two new hymns we’re going to sing today.

So first, then, how does the Trinity affect us? Let’s look at CG 41 “God the Father of creation”, our final hymn for today. We’ll hear the tune later on when the youngsters return but it’s one of those lovely Scottish melodies that you feel you know even though you’ve never heard it before!

What I like about the words of this hymn is the expectation that each aspect of the Trinity has something to teach us:

•   that the Father will teach us how to use the creative liberty to be loving

•   that the Son will teach us how to model our lives on serving and caring for others

•   that the Spirit will teach us how, with joy, to open ourselves to the prayer “Your will be done”

But there’s more to it than that. If we only take each aspect of the Trinity in turn and learn, here from the Father, there from the Son, and occasionally from the Spirit, then (in the words of Angela Tilby) we are little better than “serial Unitarians” following one God at once: now the Father, then the Son, and sometimes the Spirit.

But this hymn reminds us that each aspect of the Trinity is reliant on the others. And, more than that, the work of the Trinity is reliant on us. You and I are here on this earth to give life to the Saviour’s body. Each of us is different and unique, with a wondrous diversity of gifts and skills We do indeed stand as different people, yet beneath that, reminding us that we are not merely individuals on our own individualistic journey towards some individualistic Nirvana, beneath our individualism is a unity, a communion, a community that reflects the unity of the Father, the Son and the Spirit – perfect love in Trinity.

And then there’s that other question and that other hymn: how do we honour the Trinity? I hope that our second new hymn “How shall I sing that majesty?” (AMNS 472) may shed some light on that. There are copies of the music on separate sheets for those who like to watch spiders crawling across paper!

We’ve already had a go at singing the tune, and (whereas I focussed on the words of the first hymn to explain how we might learn about the Trinity) I want to spend a couple of moments digging a bit into the music of this tune, which (along with the words) help to unfold the majesty of God. But first it’s worth pointing out that, when I call this a new hymn, I only mean ‘new to us’. The author of the words, John Mason, was one of the first poet/hymn writers of the newly established Church of England at the end of the 17th century.

But let’s turn our attention to the tune “Coe Fen”, written by Ken Naylor who was Director of Music at a school in Cambridge until his death in 1991 and Coe Fen was the land bordering the school. At one level, we could say that this tune is little more than one of the great big English tunes: like Vaughan William’s tune for “For all the saints” and Herbert Howells tune for “All my hope on God is founded”. We could say that it is a great hymn to sing on Trinity Sunday because the tune and the words together help us to put into words (into song) our feeble understanding of God and of God’s majesty. We could say that the words and the music of this hymn offer us one way of addressing, rather than understanding, that mystery which I mentioned earlier.

But the music is so much deeper than that. It’s far more thought-out and intentional than just being a “good sing”. For those who are not musically minded, please bear with me, I hope some of this will make sense.

The music is in triple time: so, there are three beats to a bar. The key signature is Eflat major: so, there are three flats. Neither of those ‘threes’ are coincidental. The tune is broad and majestic, which echoes the themes of the words. It has strong harmonic progressions, with a bass line moving by steps or in 4ths, which work together to give the impression of a God who is mighty. But this is balanced by rich and at times chromatic harmonies, reminding us that our God is not just mighty, but has an immense warmth, a warmth to which we are drawn, drawn into the fire of his love.

This is developed by Naylor in, what has been called, a moment of genius. The third line of music (the sixth line of text in the hymn book) is held for an extra bar. The rhythm of the poetry of the hymn is regular, but Naylor pauses at the crucial moment in each verse. It’s as if he’s saying, “Now listen, because this next bit is really important, this is what John Mason wants you to hear” For the final two lines of text in each verse sum up the progression of thought in Mason’s words:

•   ten thousand times ten thousand sound thy praise, but who am I?

•   yet when thou dost accept their gold, Lord, treasure up my mite.

•   thy time is now and evermore, thy place is everywhere

This modern tune and these ancient words are a fantastic fit. Naylor’s tune is quite superb. It gets under the skin and becomes part of the mix of words and music. It’s as if they were meant for each other, despite the fact that there’s some 300 years between the two

You’ll have heard me mention before that good hymnody needs three things: good theology; glorious music; genuine poetry. And the combination of John Mason’s words and Ken Naylor’s music provides just that.

And if these few thoughts about our two new hymns haven’t helped you into a slightly deeper understanding of the mystery of the Trinity, you can always think about the chemical symbol for water, ice and steam!