A Hidden Treasure: The Red Book in Your Pew (Part 3: What's in a Name?)

Wednesday, August 19, 2026
written by Ilona Kubiaczyk-Adler

Open the “Glory to God” hymnal to any hymn and look at the bottom of the page.

Printed in small capitals on the right-hand side, you will find a single word or short phrase — ANTIOCH, SINE NOMINE, LOBE DEN HERREN, NEW BRITAIN. On your left, three lines of text: a name, a date, a collection, sometimes a country of origin — for both the text and music of the hymn, and the copyright owner where applicable. All this information is a doorway into some of the most interesting stories in our hymnal.

That word in small capitals on the right is the hymn tune's name. And it exists because of a simple, practical need: the words and the music of most hymns were created by completely different people, often in different countries, sometimes centuries apart. When editors began assembling hymnals, they needed a way to refer to each tune independently of the text. So tunes got nicknames. And like most nicknames, they came from wherever felt natural.

Some were named after places. ANTIOCH — the tune we sing for Joy to the World — takes its name from the ancient Syrian city, one of the earliest centers of the Christian church. LOBE DEN HERREN, the sturdy German tune for Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, simply takes its name from the first words of its original German text. CRUCIFER, REGENT SQUARE, WESTMINSTER ABBEY — each one carries a geography, a history, a particular patch of the church's story.

Some names tell a more personal story. NEW BRITAIN — the tune most of us know as Amazing Grace — came to the American colonies from the British Isles, its exact origins still debated by scholars. It circulated for decades in shape-note singing traditions across the rural South before it was ever paired with John Newton's words. By the time that pairing became permanent, the tune already had a life and a name of its own.

And then there is SINE NOMINE — the soaring, processional tune that carries For All the Saints. Ralph Vaughan Williams composed it in 1906, and when the time came to give it a name, he apparently could not settle on one. So he called it by the Latin phrase for "without name." SINE NOMINE has now been carrying that hymn for over a century, one of the most recognized tunes in all of English hymnody, still answering to the name "nameless."

On the opposite side from the tune name you will find the credits — the author of the words, the composer or source of the music, usually with dates. These small lines of text are easy to overlook, but they reward attention. They reveal that a hymn text from 16th-century Geneva and a folk melody from 19th-century America found each other across three hundred years and an ocean. They show you that the woman who wrote a beloved Christmas carol and the man who composed its tune never met. They remind you that what feels like a single, seamless act of worship is actually a conversation across centuries.

The hymnal is full of these quiet collaborations. The credits at the bottom of the page are where they are acknowledged.

Next time: we tackle the numbers and letters you see under the hymn tune — and discover why Amazing Grace, House of the Rising Sun, and My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean are, musically speaking, exactly the same song.