Romantic oratorios were once the staple of amateur choral societies at a time when singers queued to take part.
Today's breast-beating about survival of choirs means that presenting Mendelssohn's Elijah, a juggernaut of the repertoire, becomes a triumph of logistics as much as anything else.
But Mendelssohn's was the example that caused a rash of fourth-rate imitators, none of which could reproduce Elijah's cataract of glowing music.
That it burst forth in Chepstow's presentation of the work was a testimony to the Society's preparation and its recognition that in pathos rather than in profundity was where Mendelssohn was most at home.
Few oratorios of its length keep audiences and performers so constantly on their mettle, and this performance began with a real statement of intent in Edward Price's opening call to attention as Elijah, the prophet at his most doom-laden.
Mr Price continued to humanise his character, as did the other three soloists theirs (an oratorio comes with a cast-list), with commanding drama from soprano Lynsey Docherty, alto Sian Menna and tenor Christopher Bowen.
In fact, this must have been one of the most integrated solo teams the Society had assembled, a fact that made the choir's efforts pass beyond the nominally competent into the region of joyful four-part singing that brought a smile to the face even when it was invoking the dark gods of misrule.
The choir's teenage contingent was heavenly, the orchestra was profitably ample and conductor Graham Bull's direction tight and measured.
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