Text No. 1–4
Salomo Franck (1659–1725)

Text No. 5
Paul Speratus (1484–1551)

First performance
Second Sunday after Epiphany,
19 January 1716, Weimar

Set to a text by Salomo Franck, cantata BWV 155 was composed during Bach’s Weimar years for performance on 19 January 1716 in the palace chapel “Weg zum Himmelsburg”. Thanks to a text booklet from 1724 found in a library in St Petersburg, we also know that Bach revived the work during his first year of service in Leipzig.

Rather than opening with a tutti movement, the cantata commences with what is nominally a recitative, although the setting by both Bach and Franck is particularly rich, with profound music-theological references and a sensitive string accompaniment. In this movement, the throbbing quavers of the continuo part suggest the pathos of a Passion composition, while the high vocal part, set over a striking progression of interrupted cadences, cuts deep to the heart. The way Bach transforms the fleeting memory of the sparkling “Freudenwein” (wine of joy) into a melancholy “sinken aller Zuversicht” (fall of all confidence) – and thus into a cup of tears – is of exceptional compositional mastery. When the movement concludes in a disturbingly remote A major, the listener is left, after a mere 18 bars, stunned by this turn of events.

Equally surprising as this emotional aboutface are the form and instrumentation of the following aria in A minor, “Du musst glauben, du musst hoffen” (Thou be faithful, thou be hopeful). Here the alto and tenor engage in a trusting, consonant duet, while above accompanying continuo quavers, the sonorous obbligato bassoon presides like mercy itself over this consoling meeting of two concerned friends. The middle section set to the text of “Jesus weiss die rechten Stunden” (Jesus knows the proper hour) offers hope of imminent relief: even the most trying of times shall pass and the heart of the Highest will open again – although an audible struggle still lies ahead before insight and divine serenity can be attained.

The bass recitative reaffirms this summons to have faith in the face of all outward difficulty and to place trust in the impending transformation of “bittren Zähren” (bitter weeping) into “Freudenwein und Honigseim” (joy the wine and honey sweet). For this vital message of solace, the heavenly prince seems to have sent his most noble messenger, who with warmth and understanding renders plausible the notion of suffering as a test of faith. A short but sonorous continuo postlude takes up this idea of yielding to God, offering a tacit “Yes” in response.

In the ensuing soprano aria, the soloist appears completely transformed. Over an energetic string accompaniment of dotted rhythms, the vocal part expresses not the urgent desperation of the opening movement but a passionate desire to run headlong into the “Liebesarme” (loving bosom) of the Highest and receive his mercy as a physical act of healing presence. For this, Bach composes a wonderful setting in F major, whose exalted rapture evokes this embrace in closely intertwined phrases. While the composer maintains an equal sense of hope and tension in this setting, the librettist Franck also remains true to his metaphor by suggesting that the faithful place their “Joch der Sorgen” (yoke of sorrows) on the “Achseln seiner Gnade” (shoulders of his mercy). In this pious, operalike aria, the lack of a da capo section then reinforces the notion of purposeful movement towards Jesus.

The closing chorale, indicated in the score only by a brief marking in the bass vocal part, is a setting of “Es ist das Heil uns kommen her”, an early Reformation hymn by Paulus Speratus that inspires trust in moments of doubt, when courage is lacking. When the organ interludes inspire from the singers a healing “Dennoch” (Yet) that also overcomes the “lauter Nein!” (say only no!) of the second-last line, the muted F major of the preceding aria takes on a mighty tone of victory nigh unthinkable at the beginning of the cantata.