They that go down to the sea in ships

I like churches. We always visit them when we are in a new place, usually after the tourist information centre and the station. Some churches smell better than others, though, and the attraction of history, heritage and art [I noticed a modern and meaningful stained glass window for the first time in Southwell Minster only days ago] can be somewhat mitigated by ones that are overhung by stale air [not the case in Southwell, I hasten to add].

I also like church music – not necessarily religious music but pieces that I associate with being played in church. High on my list of favourites are Widor’s Toccata and Handel’s Messiah. That made me think about some of the hymns that I liked that we sang as youngsters, both in church and at school, and the carols, like In the Bleak Mid-Winter, that still move me at Christmas, which is the one day in the year that I regularly go to a church service.

In Liverpool, most recently, we wandered into the former Mersey Docks and Harbour Board building, dating back to 1907. It is one of the well-known Three Graces on the waterfront and today it is known as the Port of Liverpool building. Modern offices surround the central lobby, which is still very grand with its marbled floor and towering dome. The frieze around the wrought iron balustrade that overlooks the reception area reads, “They that go down to the sea in ships that do business in great waters, these see the work of the lord and his wonders in the deep.”

That strikes me as being very evocative and succinct. With so many connections to Liverpool seafarers in our family, it just adds to a feeling of recognition and gratitude to those relatives past who put their lives at risk and, in some cases, did not make it home again. I had a vague recollection that I had seen these words before, but only by checking it out did I realise that this is an extract from Psalm 107 [verses 23 and 24]. There is some fine verse in the Bible, I thought, perhaps a little belatedly.

Appreciation of quality in religiously inspired writing and song has not made me a religious person, I have to admit, but at least I benefit to some extent, by sharing the wonder in the ways that it is expressed from time to time - in the buildings themselves, their design and construction, their contents, and in the activities which take place within them.

In the same way, I always listened with my parents to that most jingoistic of events, the Last Night of the Proms. It did not turn any of us into fervent flag-waving nationalists. We just thought the music was good. I hope that I learnt from my parents not just tolerance and an ability to appreciate a wide range of stimuli but also not to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Quality is quality and it is all around us.