Remembering Jack Lyons
The 'darkest valley' is the phrase justified and preferred in modern versions.
In Leonard Bernstein's notoriously challenging Chichester Psalms, commissioned in 1965 and using early themes from West Side Story, all the words are sung in Hebrew.
So those in York Minster in June 2006, who were concentrating hard at the 90th birthday concert for my friend, Jack Lyons, did not need to concern themselves for death, shadow or darkness.
Today Jack is dead - and the newspapers this morning tell the stories of his business skill, his personal charm, his generosity to musicians all over the world and to the court cases which overhung his later years.
Jack was a great philanthropist for the arts, a rare man of a rare kind, never more needed than today.
The Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall at York will be one of many enduring legacies.
And eventually, though the fight was long, the unfairnesses of the Guinness case became understood by more than just his friends.
To listen to music with Jack was always to see it on his face, the Chichester Psalms in his beloved York most clearly so.
To listen to music with Jack was always to listen to music with his beloved Roslyn too, the singer who had long brought so much music and more into their shared lives
Bernstein never wrote a happier sacred song - and Jack's face was full of happiness that 90th birthday night in the Minster, surrounded by music students, listening to music students whose work, especially this most difficult work, he had helped to come alive.
That is how I remember him now.