(from Revelation 19:6, 11:15, and 19:16, King James Version)
Hallelujah!
for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. (Rev. 19:6)
The kingdom of this world
is become the kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ;
and He shall reign for ever and ever. (Rev. 11:15)
King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. (Rev. 19:16)
Hallelujah!
The “Hallelujah” chorus is No. 44, concluding Part II, which focuses on the Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension of Christ.
Dramatically, it represents the triumphant vision of Christ’s eternal reign.
Composite structure mixing homophony (block chords) and fugal counterpoint.
Section 1 (“Hallelujah! for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth”): Strong, repeated chords, mostly homophonic.
Section 2 (“The kingdom of this world…”): Starts more quietly, builds in imitation, then crescendos to a majestic proclamation.
Section 3 (“King of Kings…”): Layered entrances in a quasi-fugue, gradually piling up the voices and orchestration until the final climactic “Hallelujah.”
Usually in D major, a key Handel often used for brilliance with trumpets and timpani.
Tempo is generally Allegro with stately pacing to preserve grandeur.
Trumpets & Timpani: Prominent throughout, symbolizing regal triumph.
Strings: Provide rhythmic drive and harmonic foundation.
Voices: Mix of block harmony (for strength and clarity) and imitative polyphony (for complexity and build-up).
The alternation of textures helps maintain interest and drama over the repeated text.
“Hallelujah”: Short, accented declarations with rests — almost like the exultant shouts of a crowd.
“For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth”: Repeated to give a sense of eternal truth.
“King of Kings” / “Lord of Lords”: Layered entries suggest an endless procession of voices praising Christ.
Final “Hallelujah”: Orchestral and vocal forces unite for a sustained, victorious ending.
Standing during the Hallelujah Chorus: A tradition said to have begun when King George II rose to his feet during the first London performance (1743) — though historical evidence is thin.
The piece’s reputation has made it one of the most recognized choral works in Western music.
Beethoven revered Handel above almost every other composer. In 1824, he said:
“Handel is the greatest composer that ever lived. I would uncover my head and kneel before his tomb.”
Anton Schindler, Beethoven’s assistant (and sometimes unreliable biographer), claimed Beethoven requested Messiah be played for him in his final days in March 1827.
It’s debated whether it was the “Hallelujah” Chorus or the chorus “See, the conqu’ring hero comes” from Judas Maccabaeus.
Regardless of exact details, Beethoven’s admiration for Handel was profound, and he reportedly spent his last days surrounded by Handel’s scores.
Universally recognizable opening figure and jubilant repetition of “Hallelujah.”
Brilliant combination of Baroque counterpoint and sheer celebratory force.
Association with Christmas and Easter traditions across centuries.
Cultural symbolism of triumph, hope, and divine glory.
In the "Hallelujah" Chorus, the fugue-like passages are one of the main reasons the music feels so much more elevated and powerful than if Handel had simply kept it homophonic.
Here’s how the fugue-like writing works and why it lifts the piece beyond just “loud and joyful” into something monumental:
The most notable fugal section comes on the text “and He shall reign for ever and ever” and later on “King of Kings / Lord of Lords.”
Handel treats these phrases in imitation: one voice enters with the theme, another joins with the same theme a few beats later, then another, until all voices are interweaving.
In a fugue, the staggered entrances naturally cause a crescendo of texture — starting with one voice, then two, then the full chorus.
This mirrors the text perfectly: Christ’s reign is being proclaimed more and more broadly, as though the news is spreading across heaven and earth.
The overlapping lines make it sound like the praise has no clear beginning or end — exactly fitting for “for ever and ever.”
The music feels like it could go on eternally, reflecting the meaning of the words.
Homophonic “Hallelujahs” are thrilling, but counterpoint suggests mastery, order, and divine complexity.
In Baroque culture, fugue writing was associated with high art and deep craftsmanship, so it subconsciously elevates the grandeur of the piece.
By the time all voices are engaged in the fugue, the listener is swept into a wall of sound where every line is both independent and united — a perfect sonic image of a heavenly host singing in harmony.
Handel doesn’t keep it purely academic; his fugue subject is short, strong, and easy to recognize, so the listener never gets lost.
He alternates fugue with block “Hallelujah” statements — the contrast between the precision of counterpoint and the sheer force of homophony makes each more effective.
The fugue is less about scholarly complexity and more about drama, proclamation, and unstoppable growth of joy.
If Handel had written only the big chordal “Hallelujah” moments, it would be stirring — but with the fugue, he makes the music feel like the entire universe is joining the song, one voice at a time, until it’s cosmic in scale.