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Title: Paul Gerhardt's Spiritual Songs

Author: Paul Gerhardt

Translator: John Kelly

Release date: October 30, 2009 [eBook #30362]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, based on page images provided
by Google Books, with rough OCR by the Internet Archive)









Preface vii
Biographical Sketch xi
Index of First Lines xliii
Of the Holy Trinity 1
Advent 5
Birth of Christ—Christmas 14
Circumcision of Christ—New Year 43
The Sufferings of Christ—Good Friday 49
Resurrection of Christ—Easter 71
Whitsuntide 78
Repentance 83
Prayer and the Christian Life 97
Songs of the Cross and Consolation 143
Songs of Praise and Thanksgiving 238
Morning and Evening Songs 270
Miscellaneous 289
Of Death, the Last Day, and Eternal Life 312


This volume contains a large selection from Paul Gerhardt's “Spiritual Songs.” Every piece included is given in full, and is rendered into the metre of the original. A few of the following translations have appeared at various times during the last three years in different periodicals. They have been revised for this volume. Several of the hymns have been beautifully translated by others; and had the Translator been compiling a volume composed of selections from various authors, this might have formed a strong reason for not doing them again, but to have omitted them from a volume like the present would have been to give a selection from Gerhardt without some of his most celebrated productions; besides, in the other collections where they appear they are not all given in full, nor are they always rendered into the metre of the original, [viii] save in those published with the music attached. As far as the Translator is aware, the greater number of the following songs have never appeared in an English dress before.

Every one who has reflected on the subject, or attempted metrical translation, knows that literality is rarely attainable, that a certain measure of freedom must be used. The Translator has, however, striven to maintain fidelity to the sense of the original, and has occasionally somewhat sacrificed euphony to fidelity.

It is not to be expected that the people's poet of one nation and of a former age will become, through translation, the people's poet of another nation in a later generation. Individual translations may win for themselves a place side by side with the favourite songs of native growth. Instances of this will occur to every one familiar with our hymnology; but this can hardly happen in many cases. The translations on the principle of this volume may neither be uninteresting nor unedifying on that account, and it may be permitted to the Translator to trust that Paul Gerhardt in his present dress may be found stimulating and refreshing [ix] to many. Gerhardt was peculiarly a son of consolation. The Translator has found him so in the hour of trial, and he will feel repaid if he should become the cup-bearer of the rich wine of consolation contained in the hymns of the staunch old German Lutheran to any English Christian readers “who may be in any wise afflicted.”

The work of translation has been a labour of love. It has been the recreation of leisure hours from graver duties, and occasionally the occupation of days of unwilling, but unavoidable, total or partial freedom from professional engagements.

The edition used in this translation was Wackernagel's “Paulus Gerhardt's Geistliche Lieder getreu nach der bei seinen Lebzeiten erschienenen Ausgabe wiederabgedrückt. Neue Auflage, in Taschenformat.”—Stuttgart, Verlag von Samuel Gottlieb Liesching, 1855. This edition has been followed in the classification and titles both of the sections and hymns.

The principal sources whence the materials for the biographical sketch have been drawn are “Paul Gerhardt's Geistliche Andachten, &c., mit Anmerkungen, [x] einer Geschichtlichen Einleitung und Urkunden herausgegaben, von Otto Schultze.”—Berlin, 1842. “Paul Gerhardt, nach seinem Leben und Wirken, aus zum Theile ungedrückten Nachrichten dargestellt,” von E. G. Roth, Pastor Primarius zu Luebben in der Niederlausitz.—Leipzig, 1829.

Feustking, Langbecker, Herzog, and others were also read, or more or less consulted.



Paul Gerhardt was born in Graefenhainichen in Electoral Saxony, where his father, Christian Gerhardt, was Burgomaster. There is some doubt as to the precise year of his birth, owing to the destruction of the church books when the place was burnt by the Swedes on the 16th of April, 1637. According to some, the event took place in the year 1606; according to others, in 1607. The probability is in favour of the former date, for General Superintendent Goltlob Stolze, of Lübben,[1] says that he died, in the 70th year of his age, in the year 1676.

There is no information concerning his youth and education. He was still very young when the Thirty Years' War broke out, and his preparation for his profession and entrance on it took place in those troublous times, which may account for his late settlement in a ministerial sphere. In the year 1651, when in his forty-fifth year, we find him still only a [xii] candidate[2] of theology, and resident as a tutor in the family of Andreas Bertholdt, Chancery Advocate in Berlin, whose daughter he subsequently married. In that year a vacancy occurred in the ministry at Mittenwald, by the death of Probst Caspar Göde. The magistracy of that place applied to the clergy of Berlin to recommend a suitable man to them for the office. Paul Gerhardt was their unanimous choice. They recommended him as an honourable, estimable, and learned man, whose diligence and erudition were known, of good parts and incorrupt doctrine, of a peace-loving disposition and blameless Christian life, which qualities had procured for him the love of all classes, high and low, in Berlin. They furthermore added that he had frequently, at their friendly invitation, exercised the excellent gifts with which God had endowed him for the edification of the church, and had thereby deserved well of the people, and endeared himself to them. The clergy met together for consultation, and sent this recommendation to Mittenwald without the knowledge of Gerhardt; no higher testimony, therefore, could have been given to his character, learning, and abilities. [xiii] He was accordingly appointed and set apart to his office in St. Nicholas' Church, Berlin, on the 18th of November, 1651, and entered before the close of the year on his duties. The church book which he kept from Jan. 1, 1652, till Dec. 31, 1656, bears testimony to his fidelity and conscientiousness in the discharge of this part of the duties of his office.

On February 11th, 1655, he was married to Anna Maria, daughter of the Chancery Advocate Bertholdt, in whose family he had been tutor. Before he left Mittenwald, his first child, a daughter, was born and died. There is a slab to her memory still standing in the church. Several circumstances in his position at Mittenwald conspired to make Gerhardt desire a change, and welcome a translation to Berlin when an opportunity offered. The relation between his colleague, Deacon Allborn, and himself was not friendly: Allborn had been passed over by the magistrates in favour of Gerhardt. The want of cordiality which prevailed in consequence must have been very trying to a man of Gerhardt's disposition. The income of the office was also small, and his circumstances consequently straitened. His ties and associations in Berlin would also be strong inducements of themselves to the acceptance of an appointment there.


The welcome relief came when the magistrates appointed him to the third Diaconate of St. Nicholas' Church, vacant by the death of Probst Peter Vher, and the consequent promotion of the other ministers. The spirit in which he received and accepted the invitation is shown in his letter to the magistrates on accepting their offer. He humbly and gratefully recognized the hand of God in the matter; and, owning his own weakness, earnestly solicited the prayers of the faithful. His letter is dated June 4, 1657, and in the register of St. Nicholas there is an entry of a baptism made by him on the 22nd of July. Consequently he must have entered on his duties soon after. Gerhardt, doubtless, joyfully returned to Berlin, anticipating a happy ministry there; but it was there his greatest trials awaited him. These trials arose out of the measures taken by Frederick William,[3] at that time Elector of Brandenburg, to allay the animosity prevailing between the adherents of the Lutheran and Reformed Confessions respectively. The feud was of long standing, and the efforts made to heal it had been hitherto in vain.

With the laudable desire of pacifying party strife, [xv] the Elector appointed a conference to be held between the Lutheran and Reformed clergy of Berlin and Cöln-on-the-Spree, under the direction of the Lord President, Baron Otto von Schwerin, on the Reformed side, and Chancellor Lorenz Christian von Somnitz, of Pomerania, and others, on the Lutheran side. The Lutheran clergy of the three chief churches in Berlin and Cöln, and the Reformed court preachers, Bartholomew Stosch and Johann Kunschius, the rector of the Joachimsthal Gymnasium, and the philologue Joh. Vorstius, constituted the membership of the conference. Kunschius, being soon after summoned to accompany the Elector to Königsberg, took no part in the conferences, and his place was filled by Gerson Vechner, of the Joachimsthal Gymnasium.

The object of the Conference, according to the Electoral Rescript, was to consider the following points:—

I. Whether in the Reformed Confessions, particularly in those named in the last Electoral Edict (January 2nd, 1662), viz.:—The Confessio Sigismundi, the Colloquium Lipsiacum, the Declaratio Thoruniensis,—anything is taught or affirmed, in teaching, believing, or affirming which any one is, judicio divino, accursed.

II. Whether anything is denied or passed over in [xvi] silence, without acknowledging or practising which no one could be saved.

The Berlin clergy were reluctant to enter on the conference. They thought that as it concerned the Church of the Mark generally it should not be limited to Berlin and Cöln, and that it was a subject requiring mature consideration. At length, however, having protested in vain, they consented, but manifestly determined to concede nothing.

The conference met at various times during the years 1662-63. Gerhardt took no public part. The speaking devolved first on Probst Lilius, but soon afterwards, and for the remainder of the meetings, on Archdeacon Reinhardt. Gerhardt wrote a judgment unfavourable to the conferences, because he thought nothing but syncretism would come out of it—i.e., the confusion of the two confessions, into which the Rinteln theologians had permitted themselves to be seduced. By his votes he evinced his interest in all its proceedings.[4]

As might be surmised, from the state of party feeling, the conference was not only fruitless, but left [xvii] matters in a worse condition than they were when it first met. Furthermore, at the last sitting but one, on the 22nd of May, 1663, the Berlin clergy incurred the high displeasure of the Elector, by defending and approving the conduct of their speaker Reinhardt on an occasion when he had given great offence to his Highness. It is thought, that at this time Gerhardt wrote his heart-stirring and beautiful hymn,—Ist Gott für mich, so trete? (Is God for me, t'oppose me?) The Elector, in consequence of the result of the conferences, issued an edict on the 16th of September, 1664, in substance the same but more stringent than the previous one. All were required to pledge themselves to obedience to this edict, whereas subscription to the former one had been required only from candidates at ordination. The edict required the clergy of both confessions, on pain of dismissal from office and other penalties, to refrain from vituperating each other, from deducing absurd and impious doctrines from each other's dogmas, and imputing them to their opponents. The edict also commanded that the ordinance of baptism should be administered without exorcism, when the parents desired it. The edict produced the most profound consternation. It was regarded as endangering religious liberty and the freedom of conscience. The [xviii] Lutheran preachers felt themselves hampered by it in the discharge of their duties. Regarding, as they did, their symbolical books and ecclesiastical customs as sacred things, using their authorized formularies in the instruction of the people, and introducing the element of controversy largely into their ministrations, they felt themselves quite crippled in the discharge of their functions. It seemed to them that if they gave up their liberty in the pulpit, they would be necessitated to give up their customs also, and so violate their solemn obligations. They thought that compliance would imperil the Lutheran Church, the welfare of their congregations, and the peace of their own souls. Such was the view taken of the matter by many strict and conscientious men. We cannot help thinking that their view was mistaken and exaggerated, that these things were not endangered, that it was perfectly possible for them to have been loyal to their church, to have instructed their people faithfully in all the peculiar doctrines of their system, and yet have rendered obedience to the Electoral edict.

Many were actually conducting themselves both according to its letter and spirit, and yet were filled with those alarms which we must call groundless, at the very thought of binding themselves by a pledge to [xix] act as they were doing. While we hold them to have been mistaken, we cannot but respect their fidelity to their honest convictions, and their fortitude in accepting the sad consequences,—the severing of the ties that bound them to beloved flocks, the loss of office and emolument, and expatriation. The principles of toleration were not rightly understood, either by the Church or State at the time.

As we read the painful annals of the time, the thought often arises in the mind, how much better had it been if the evil which it was the laudable intention of the Elector to correct, had been permitted to work its own cure. There were doubtless many, who had given too much cause for complaint by the licence they allowed themselves in the pulpit in attacking their theological adversaries, but those who suffered most would probably be those, who, like Gerhardt, were not open to reproach, yet felt themselves constrained by conscience to refuse obedience to the Elector's command. Hundreds signed the edict. Some who had scruples yielded on account of their wives and children. There was a witticism current at the time which was put into the mouths of the pastors' wives:—

“Schreibt, Schreibt,

Lieber Herre, auf dass ihr bei der Pfarre bleibt.”


Which may be freely and roughly rendered,—

“Subscribe, subscribe, dear husband, do!

Lest you must from the parish go.”

Very many, however, were thrown into the greatest distress of mind, and could not obey and preserve a good conscience. The Berlin ministers sought the opinion of various theological faculties and churches on the crisis.

The Elector, ignorant of the trouble given to the consciences of many worthy men, viewed this conduct on their part as self-willed, and an unwarrantable opposition to what appeared to him a needful regulation. He ordered Lilius and Reinhardt to be removed from office, if they delayed to subscribe, and gave the others time for consideration. The two former, failing to obey, were deposed.

Gerhardt, with the three others who were threatened, turned to the magistracy, and solicited their good offices in intercession with the Elector. The magistrates represented to the Elector that the Berlin clergy had observed the edict, but that they objected to subscription; they begged the Elector not to enforce subscription on those already in office, as it would tend to compromise them with the people and foreign churches; they furthermore stated, that obedience rests not so much in [xxi] subscription and in the letter, as in the mind and in deed. They begged him to reinstate Lilius and Reinhardt in office.

The Berlin clergy presented a petition, substantially to the same effect, at the same time. They stated, in addition, that the Reformed clergy had not been compelled to sign. The only result of this petition was, that the Reformed were forthwith commanded to subscribe the edict.

The ministers, in another document, set forth their scruples at large, but thereby only incurred the further displeasure of the Elector. The deposition of Lilius and Reinhardt, however, caused such an uproar, that the Elector issued a declaration on May 4, 1665, setting forth the seasons of his procedure. Further efforts were made, and the result was, that time was allowed to Lilius to reconsider his refusal, and in the beginning of the following year he subscribed. On account of his compliance, he became the object of the most bitter and galling attacks, and did not long survive. The last days of the old man were embittered by the treatment he received at the hands of zealous, but uncharitable Lutherans, and death was doubtless a welcome event to him. In the case of Reinhardt, the result was only a more severe sentence. He was banished [xxii] from the town, forbidden to maintain any correspondence with it, and the magistrates were ordered to fill up the vacancy caused by his removal. He removed to Leipzig, where he was chosen to the pastorate of St. Nicholas' Church, and was subsequently made Professor of Theology, which office he held till his death, in 1669.

Paul Gerhardt was the next minister who was called on to subscribe the edict. The Elector was convinced that, next to Reinhardt, he was the most vehement opponent of peace between the Lutheran and Reformed. When Reinhardt was reproached in the Consistory with inciting his colleagues to resistance, Gerhardt said, with some warmth, that it was not so, that he had encouraged Reinhardt when he showed a disposition to yield; he was older in years, and had been longer in office, and he should be sorry to follow others. It was also said, that during an illness which befell him, he sent for his colleagues, and earnestly warned them not to subscribe the bond pledging them to observance of the edict. These things were, at least, carried to the Elector, and prejudiced him against Gerhardt. On the same day that Lilius was reinstated in office, Gerhardt was cited to appear before the Consistory (Feb. 6th, 1666), and called upon to sign. Eight days were allowed [xxiii] him for consideration, and in the first instance he accepted the delay, but before the rising of the same session, he declared that he had had ample time for consideration, and that he could not change his mind, whereupon he was deposed from office, in the name of the Elector.

Great as was the agitation produced in the public mind by the deposition of Lilius and Reinhardt, the sensation occasioned by Gerhardt's was much more profound. He was the most beloved, as well as most celebrated, of all the ministers. Measures were immediately taken by the community in his favour. The citizens and the guilds of the cloth-makers, bakers, butchers, tailors, and pewterers, united to petition the magistrates in favour of exemption for Gerhardt. They said that every one knew that he had never spoken against the faith and the co-religionists of the Elector, much less vituperated them, but that he had sought to lead every one to true Christianity, and had never attacked any one in word or deed.

The magistrates, on presenting this representation to the Elector, on the 13th of February, added:—“He has not thought of the Reformed, much less insulted them; he has maintained a blameless walk, giving offence to no one, so much so, that his Highness, without [xxiv] any suspicion, had admitted his songs into the hymn-book for the Mark, in 1658. Should a man so pious, so intellectual, so celebrated in many lands, leave the town, it was to be feared that grave thoughts would be excited in the minds of foreigners, and that God would visit them for it. If he refused subscription, it would not be imputed to disobedience, but to scruples of conscience, seeing that before the publication of the edict he had fulfilled its object by his modest behaviour.” The Prince, in reply, stated that he had sufficient grounds for enforcing the provisions of the edict, and that Gerhardt must comply with them, or bear the penalty.

A second petition was got up in his favour, in which, in addition to the above guilds, the carpenters, cutlers, armourers, and coppersmiths joined. As this petition also was unfavourably received, the States of the Mark took up the cause of the deposed. “The dismissal of Gerhardt,” they informed the Elector, on the 27th of July, 1666, “excited great fear in the country for religion, for this man is recognized by the adherents of both confessions as a pious, exemplary, and, without doubt, a peace-loving theologian, against whom no charge can be brought save his refusal to subscribe the edicts.”


The Elector yielded at length. After his return from Cleve, he summoned the magistrates to appear before him, on January 9th, 1667, at three o'clock in the afternoon; and through the Lord President, Otto von Schwerin, in presence of several privy councillors, made the desired, but hardly expected announcement, that as there was no complaint against Paul Gerhardt, save that he refused to subscribe the edicts, his Electoral Highness must believe that he has misunderstood the purport of them; he, therefore, restored him to his office, and absolved him from the necessity of subscription.

Immediately after the audience, the Elector sent a private secretary to Gerhardt, to convey the intelligence to him, and to say at the same time that his Highness cherished the confident expectation that he would act conformably to the edicts, without subscription, and continue to manifest his known moderation. Next day the magistrates, delighted with the grace of the Prince, hastened to inform Gerhardt of his unconditional restoration to office, and on the 12th of January, the joyous event was announced in the Sunday Mercury, a weekly paper very much read in Berlin at that time. But the private message from the Elector threw Gerhardt into fresh distress of mind. He felt hampered by the condition still attached to his restoration to [xxvi] office, and he applied to the magistrates to aid him in discovering the exact terms of his restoration. In his letter to the magistrates, he expressed his earnest desire to spend the remainder of his life among his flock, if he could do so with a good conscience, saying how wretched a thing it was to hold office with an uneasy conscience. He knew the anxieties incident to the faithful discharge of the pastoral office, and said, that he would be the most wretched man on earth if to them were added the reproaches of a guilty conscience. His desire was not in the very least to appear to depart from his previous mode of teaching, and from the customs of his church, which, as a Lutheran clergyman, he had sworn to maintain. Referring to the moderation which had been so commended in him, he said, “I have never understood it, and never can understand it otherwise, than that I shall be permitted to remain faithful to my Lutheran confessions of faith, and especially to the ‘Formula Concordiae,' and that I am not required to regard any of them, or permit others to regard any one of them, as a dishonourable, injurious, or blasphemous book.”

The magistrates sent him a copy of the decree reinstating him in office, hoping thereby to remove his scruples. He made a further representation to the [xxvii] magistrates on the 26th of January, 1667. In this he pointed out how the decree ascribed his refusal to a misunderstanding of the edicts, and that, though absolved from subscription, he was bound by them still; that he could only understand the edicts literally; that he could not re-enter his office with any other conscience than he had first entered it with; he could not inflict on himself the wound on re-entrance into office which he had, in the strength of the Holy Ghost, patiently and silently endured a year's suspension to avoid; that if his conscience permitted him to yield obedience he would subscribe the edicts, “for,” said he, “what I can do with a good conscience, I can easily consent and promise to do.” He begged them to intercede for him with the Prince, that he might be absolved from obedience to the edicts on resuming office. In everything else he promised all possible hearty and humble obedience. He begged that he might be permitted to adhere to his Lutheran Confessions and “Formula Concordiae;” that he might so instruct his flock, and pledge himself to no other moderation than was rooted in these confessions. Only on these terms, he said, could he consent to preach. Gerhardt also wrote to the Elector to the same effect.

The magistrates resolved once more to apply to the [xxviii] Elector. They briefly stated the case, and begged his Highness to relieve Gerhardt's scruples. The Elector, on the very same day, returned their statement to the magistrates, with these words written on the margin:—“If the preacher, Paul Gerhardt, will not resume the office so graciously vouchsafed to him again, by his Serene Electoral Highness, for which he will have to answer to the Most High God, let the magistrates of Berlin, at their earliest convenience, invite some other able and peace-loving persons to preach as candidates; but let them not call any one until they have first humbly made known his qualifications to his Serene Highness.—Cöhl-on-the-Spree, Feb. 4th, 1667.—(Signed) Friederich Wilhelm.”

Gerhardt resigned his office, and so ended his ministry in Berlin. So great was the love his former flock bore to him that they still continued to contribute to his support.

It is commonly believed, that after his deposition in Berlin, he was invited to Saxe-Merseberg by Duke Christian, and that, on refusing the offer, the Duke granted him a pension. Otto Schultze, one of his biographers, and seemingly the most careful and thorough of them, says that he was unable to find any certain testimony to either of these facts. It seems [xxix] strange that he should refuse to go to Saxe-Merseberg, when, a short time after, he unhesitatingly accepted an invitation from the magistrates of Lübben, which was in the territories of Duke Christian; and in his correspondence with the magistrates of Lübben there is no reference to such an invitation from the Duke. The fact of his refusal, in the first instance, and his ready acceptance in the second, might be accounted for, however, by the death of his wife, which took place in March, 1668, whereby one very strong tie that bound him to Berlin was severed.

A story is told about this period of his life, and was for a long time received as an undoubted fact, which is so romantic that we could almost wish it were true. It is said, that having no certain dwelling-place, he set out with his wife and family to return to his fatherland, Electoral Saxony; that one evening his wife was sitting in the hotel where they were staying for the night, bemoaning her hard lot. Gerhardt in vain endeavoured to console her, and quoted Psalm xxxvii. 5, to her. Touched by the words himself, he went and sat down on a garden seat and wrote the song,

Commit whatever grieves thee,” &c.,

and came and read it to his wife, who was immediately [xxx] comforted. Later in the evening the Duke of Saxe-Merseberg's messengers arrived, bearing a letter to Gerhardt, offering him a pension, till he was otherwise provided for. They were glad when they found out who Gerhardt was, and handed him the letter, which he in turn handed to his wife, saying, “Did I not tell you to commit your ways unto the Lord?” Unfortunately for this story, the hymn in question had been published in 1666, and the story is otherwise inconsistent with the known facts of his history.[5] The story is equally groundless, that this hymn was the means of procuring him an invitation from the Elector to return to Berlin.

The magistrates of Lübben, hearing of him, invited him to preach there, as a candidate for the vacant archdiaconate. He went thither and preached before them on October 14th, 1668. The next day he was informed as to the income, inspected the official residence, expressed his willingness to accept the appointment, and was assured that it would be offered to him. He then returned to Berlin. He did not take up his residence in Lübben until June in the following year, [xxxi] owing partly to domestic affliction, and partly to the vexatious delay in preparing his official house for his reception, arising from the dilatoriness and indifference of the magistrates in the matter. He had expressed hope, when he saw the house, which was unfit for any minister to live in, and not large enough for his family, that a more convenient one might be provided. He was assured that a deacon's house adjoining wonld be added to it. A friend visited Lübben some time after his appointment, and the work was not begun, nor even at a later period, when he himself went over. No sympathy was manifested towards him. He was asked if he wished to recede from his promise, and whether he wished a house pro dignitate; and was told that they did not know he had so large a household, and that what had been good enough before might be good enough still. All this must have been exceedingly annoying and humiliating to Gerhardt. Other points were raised with reference to the details of his ministerial duties; but leaving them for friendly settlement after his entrance on his office, he simply claimed that a house, not pro dignitate, but pro necessitate, should be prepared. A full statement of the case, addressed by him to the Government President, Alex. von Hoymb, at length produced the desired effect.


He took the oath of religion before the Consistory on the 6th of June, and entered on the duties of his office on the third Sunday in Trinity. Gerhardt, in these transactions, appears to great advantage, in the reasonableness of his demands, and the manner he dealt with the ungenerous imputations made upon his motives and character. He would have removed to Lübben sooner had there been a suitable house to be got; but there was none. He laid stress, in his correspondence, on the want of a study in the Archdeacon's house, and insisted on the necessity of having a place for meditation and prayer, if he was to discharge his duties aright.

There are no written records concerning his work in Lübben. Dim tradition says, that he was often melancholy, that in these moods he would betake himself to the church, and kneeling before the crucifix, seek strength in fervent prayer. Feustking (who was almost his contemporary), General Superintendent in Anhalt-Zerbst, says, in the preface to his edition of his songs,—“Along with his piety Gerhardt had the devil, the false world, and the enemies of religion continually on his neck, with which he had to contend on the right and on the left, day and night. He also prayed very diligently, as earnestly as one pleads with his father. At the close of his life he had pious Arndt's ‘Prayer [xxxiii] and Paradise Garden' continually before him, and so highly did he esteem it, that he wrote several hymns on its contents.”

Many of Gerhardt's songs appeared in the first instance in various hymn-hooks. The first complete edition was published by J. E. Ebeling, Director of Music in the chief church in Berlin, in ten folio parts, each containing twelve songs, in 1666-67. It seems that Gerhardt never derived any pecuniary advantage from their publication. Tradition says, that after a warm conflict with the enemy he wrote the hymn “Wach auf mein Herz und Singe,” in proof of which the second verse is quoted. But he wrote no song after leaving Berlin. Schultze mentions that there is no song bearing his name that had not been printed in 1667.

His will, and the rules of life, written before his death, for his son Paul Friedrich, are worthy of quotation, revealing as they do the piety, simplicity, purity, integrity, and also the narrowness of his character.[6] After expressing his gratitude to God for all the goodness and truth shown him from his mother's womb till that hour (he had then reached [xxxiv] his seventieth year), his hope of speedy deliverance from this life and entrance into a better, and praying God when his time came to take his soul into His Fatherly hands and grant his body quiet rest till the last day, when he should be reunited with those gone before as well as those left behind, and behold Jesus face to face, in whom he had believed though he had not seen Him, he goes on to say:—

“To my only son I leave few earthly possessions, but an honourable name, of which he will have no special reason to be ashamed.

“My son knows, that from tender infancy I gave him to the Lord my God as His own, that he should be a servant and preacher of His Holy Word. Let it be so, and let him not turn aside because he may have few good days therein, for God knows how to compensate for outward trial by inward gladness of heart and joy in the Holy Ghost. Study sacred theology in pure schools and incorrupt universities, and beware of Syncretists, for they seek the things of time, and are faithful neither to God nor man. In thine ordinary life, follow not bad company, but the will and commandment of thy God. In particular


“1. Do nothing evil in the hope that it will remain secret,

‘For nothing can so small be spun

That it comes not to the sun.'

“2. Never grow angry out of thine office and calling.

“If thou findest that anger hath inflamed thee, be perfectly silent, and do not utter a word until thou hast first repeated to thyself the Ten Commandments and the Christian Creed.

“3. Be ashamed of sinful, fleshly lusts; and when thou comest to years that thou canst marry, do so seeking direction from God, and the good counsel of pious, faithful, and judicious persons.

“4. Do people good whether they can requite you or not, for what men cannot requite the Creator of Heaven and earth has long ago requited, in that He created thee, hath given thee His dear Son, and in holy baptism hath received and adopted thee as His son and heir.

“5. Flee covetousness like hell. Be content with what thou hast acquired with honour and a good conscience, though it may not be too much. Should God grant thee more, pray Him to preserve thee from any hurtful misuse of temporal possessions.


Summa; pray diligently, study something honourable, live peacefully, serve honestly, and remain steadfastly in thy faith and confession. So wilt thou one day die and leave this world willingly, gladly, blessedly! Amen.”

He died on the 7th of June, 1676, as the Lübben church-book testifies, after he had been seven years in Lübben and twenty-five in the ministry.

It is said, that he died with the words of one of his own hymns on his lips. “Death can never kill us even,” from verse 8th of the Christian Song of Joy.

Why should sorrow ever grieve me?

He is buried in the chief church, probably near the altar, though the precise spot cannot be determined. A portrait in oil, hung up in the church, testifies to the estimation in which he was held by the congregation, for besides his, there are only the portraits of a few General Superintendents, and none of any of his predecessors in office.

Towards the side, at the foot of the picture are the words:—

“Theologus in cribro Satanae versatus.”[7]


And under that again, the following epigram written by J. Wernsdorf:—

“Sculpta quidem Pauli, viva est atque imago Gerhardti,

Cujus in ore, fides, spes, amor usque fuit.

Hic docuit nostris Assaph redivivus in oris

Et cecinit laudes, Christe benigne, tuas.

Spiritus aethereis veniet tibi sedibus hospes,

Haec ubi saepe canes Carmina Sacra Deo.”[8]

It is not known what became of his son, and nothing is known of his posterity.

The editor of the Selection of Gerhardt's Songs—Bremen, 1817—states in his preface: “There is at present living in Bremen a great-granddaughter of Gerhardt's, eighty-one years of age, a simple Christian soul. Her father was, as she says, an advocate in Oldenburg; of her ancestor the poet she has neither written nor oral information.”

There are three of Gerhardt's sermons extant in the library of the gymnasium of the Grey Cloister in [xxxviii] Berlin; and the titles and texts of three more are known. They are all funeral sermons. We would close this notice of the life of Gerhardt with a few extracts from Wackernagel's preface to his edition of Gerhardt's Spiritual Songs.

“Paul Gerhardt,” he says, “may be viewed in a one-sided manner, from two quite opposite points of view, in relation to the spiritual contents of his songs. His poems appear to mirror the transition character of his age, when the personal life of the feelings, the subjective tendency, began to assert itself beside the Christian consciousness of the congregation. He may therefore be regarded as the last and the most perfect of those poets who were grounded in the ecclesiastico-confessional faith, and with him the line of the strict ecclesiastical poets closes. He may also be regarded as beginning the line of those in whose songs, praise and adoration of the revealed God recede before the expression of the feelings that master the soul in contemplating its relation to God revealing Himself to it as its salvation. The true view is, that Gerhardt stood in the fore front of his age and united in himself in the most lively manner both tendencies. Though he did not write so expressly for the congregation, so immediately in the interest of the church, [xxxix] as Luther, but from personal necessity, in personal temptations, yet the pulsation of his inner life was the common ecclesiastical confession; and his experiences, however personal they might be, were only waves of the flood of baptism and life which every other member of the church breathed and shared. His sorrow, and God's love, the soul's questions, and God's answers in him and in his songs, become one—so one as can only be when the experience is not only true for the individual, but also for the people and the church.

“For this reason Paul Gerhardt's are people's songs. They remind us sometimes of Friedrich Spee; above all, the glorious song,

Go forth, my heart, and seek delight.'

But how much richer and more many-sided is the Evangelical than the Catholic poet, and at the same time better known and more familiar to the people! The Catholic congregations know nothing now of Friedrich Spee; but where is the Evangelical congregation that does not know Paul Gerhardt; in what churches are not his holy songs heard? What the pious Catherine Zell of Strasburg says of beautiful spiritual songs in her hymn-book is true of him:—‘The [xl] journeyman mechanic at his work, the servant-maid washing her dishes, the ploughman and vine-dresser in the fields, the mother by her weeping infant in the cradle, sing them.' High and low, poor and rich alike, find them equally consoling, equally edifying; in all stations, among young and old, there are examples to be found where some song of Gerhardt at particular periods in the history of the inner life was engraven for ever on the soul, and subsequently became the centre point of the dearest reminiscences. Winckleman's favourite song, even in Italy, after he had passed over to the Catholic Church, was,

I sing to thee with heart and mouth.'

And once when he ordered a song-book from Germany, he was vexed, yea, exasperated, when he found that it did not contain this song.

“Schiller's mother nurtured the young mind of her son with the songs of our poet, with whom the song

Now spread are evening shadows'

was a favourite,—the same song concerning which Johann Falk narrates that a beggar boy was preserved [xli] amid many temptations by singing to himself the stanza commencing

O Jesus! be my cover.'

“Books devoted to the exposition of spiritual songs, or to facts concerning pious persons, relate how many of Gerhardt's hymns have quickened many hearts in heavy affliction and anxiety, and have quietly composed their minds in the hour of death, and led them to peace....

“Above all, it was the mothers who fostered the domestic spiritual song, and handed down the old songs to the new generation. The noble picture of such a mother, even of his own, is sketched by T. F. Hippel, and the words in which she described the peculiarity of the poet to her son serve to portray herself as well as Gerhardt:—

“‘After Luther, I must confess, I know no better hymn-poet than Gerhardt. He, Rist, and Dach form a trefoil, but the chosen instrument, Luther, was the root. Gerhardt wrote during the ringing of the church bells, so to speak. A certain impressiveness, a certain sorrowfulness, a certain fervour, were peculiar to him; he was a guest on earth, and everywhere in his one hundred and twenty-three songs sunflowers are sown. [xlii] This flower ever turns to the sun, so does Gerhardt to a blessed eternity.'

“The love with which the contemporaries of Gerhardt, as far as the bell of an evangelical church was heard, turned to his song, has only one precedent—the veneration, the devotion, with which Luther's songs were regarded. The songs of no other poet, either before or since, have ever produced so mighty an effect or obtained so speedy and so wide a circulation.”

[1]Wetzlar's “Analecta Hymnica.”
[2]One qualified and authorized to preach, but not ordained, ordination taking place only when the candidate is placed over a congregation as a pastor.
[3]The Elector Sigismund had gone over to the Reformed Confession in 1613, and the position of the Lutherans and Reformed in the Mark in relation to the court had since been reversed.
[4]Wackernagel says, that it was his official duty to sketch the writings in attack and defence, that they display great tact and acuteness, and furnish a new proof that critical acumen may be combined with a poetical temperament.
[5]Since writing this sketch, the writer observes that currency has been given to this apocryphal story in a recent work, “Our Hymns: their Authors and their Origin. By the Rev. Josiah Miller.”
[6]In the reference to the Syncretists.
[7]A Theologian experienced in the sieve of Satan.

A graven, indeed, yet living image of Paul Gerhardt,

In whose mouth, faith, hope, love have ever been.

Here Asaph returned to life, taught in our coasts, and sang thy praises, O Gracious Saviour!

The Spirit will come to thee as a guest, from the heavenly seats wherever thou shalt sing these Sacred Songs to God.



A Lamb bears all its guilt away 49
A rest here have I never 316
After clouds we see the sun 261
Ah! faithful God, compass'nate heart 169
Ah! lovely innocence, how evil art thou deem'd 160
Awake, my heart! be singing 276
Be glad, my heart! now fear no more 329
Be joyful all, both far and near 75
Be thou contented! aye relying 202
Behold! behold! what wonder's here! 14
Bless'd is he the Lord who loveth 132
Bless'd is he who never taketh 130
By John was seen a wondrous sight 347
Come, and Christ the Lord be praising 24
Commit whatever grieves thee 225
Creator, Father, Prince of might! 109
Father of mercies! God most high 175
For Thee, Lord, pants my longing heart 88
Full of wonder, full of art 302
Full often as I meditate 143
Go forth, my heart, and seek delight 289
How can it be, my highest Light! 259
How heavy is the burden made 246
How long, Lord, in forgetfulness 235
I have deserv'd it, cease to oppose 165
I into God's own heart and mind 219
Immanuel! to Thee we sing 37
In grateful songs your voices raise 238
In prayer your voices raise ye 45
Is God for me? t'oppose me 208
Jesus! Thou, my dearest Brother 112
Let not such a thought e'er pain thee 83
Look up to thy God again 195
Lord God! Thou art for evermore 312
Lord, lend a gracious ear 92
Lord, Thou my heart dost search and try 138
Lord! to Thee alone I raise 135
Mine art Thou still, and mine shalt be 333
My face, why shouldst thou troubled be 322
My God! my works and all I do 102
My heart! the seven words hear now 63
Now at the manger here I stand 32
Now gone is all the rain 298
Now spread are evening's shadows 285
Now with joy my heart is bounding 18
O Father! send Thy Spirit down 78
O God! from Thee doth wisdom flow 97
O God, my Father! thanks to Thee 117
O God! who dost Heaven's sceptre wield 294
O Jesus Christ! my fairest Light 122
O Lord! I sing with mouth and heart 255
O my soul, why dost thou grieve 155
Oh! bleeding head, and wounded 59
Oh, Jesus Christ! how bright and fair 307
On thy bier how calm thou'rt sleeping 338
Praise God! for forth hath sounded 251
Praise ye Jehovah 279
Say with what salutations 10
Scarce tongue can speak, ne'er human ken 1
See, world! thy Life assailèd 54
Shall I not my God be praising 240
The daylight disappeareth 282
The golden morning, joy her adorning 270
The Lord, the earth who ruleth 266
The time is very near 341
Thou art but man, to thee 'tis known 148
Thou must not altogether be 230
Thy manger is my paradise 26
'Tis patience must support you 184
Twofold, Father! is my pray'r 107
Up! up! my heart with gladness 71
What pleaseth God, my faithful child 189
Why should sorrow ever grieve me 214
Why should they such pain e'er give Thee 43
Why without, then, art Thou staying 5



Of the Holy Trinity.

Scarce tongue can speak, ne'er human ken

The myst'ry could discover,

That God, from His high throne to men

Makes known the world all over:

That He alone is King above

All other gods whatever,

Great, mighty, faithful, full of love,

His saints doth aye deliver,

One substance but three persons!

God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

The name thrice holy given,

On earth by all the ransom'd host,

And by the hosts of heaven.


He's Abraham's and Isaac's God,

And Jacob's whom He knoweth,

The Lord of Hosts, who every good

Both night and day bestoweth,

Who only doeth wonders!

His Son, from all eternity

Begotten hath the Father,

Who came as man, when God's decree

Had fix'd, His sheep to gather.

The Holy Ghost eternally,

While all Their glory sharing,

Their honour, pow'r, and majesty,

A crown all equal wearing,

Proceeds from Son and Father!

Be glad, my heart! thy portion see,

Thy rich unequall'd treasure,

He is thy Friend, supply will He

Thy needs with bounteous measure.

Who made thee in His image fair

Thy load of guilt removeth,

Gives thee His chosen's faith to share,

Thy Joy in sorrow proveth,

Through His own word most holy.


Bestir thyself, with all thy heart

Thy God to know endeavour:

Sweet rest such knowledge will impart,

Thy soul with pure love ever

Will cause to glow, and nourish thee

For life and joy in heaven;

Things heard of only here, shall be

To open sight there given,

By God to His dear children.

Woe! woe! to the besotted crew

In wilful blindness living,

Rejecting God, the honour due

To Him, to creatures giving.

The time will come when close shall He

'Gainst them the door of heaven;

Who God drive from them here, shall be

By Him hereafter driven,

From His high throne most holy!

O Prince of might! Thy mercy show,

Thou God of earth and heaven,

To every sinner here below

May saving grace be given!


Bring back Thy sheep who go astray,

And blinded eyes enlighten,

And turn Thou every thing away

That wickedly might frighten

Thine own, whose faith is feeble.

Grant this, that we Thy people may

All reach the heav'nly portals,

And in Thy kingdom sing for aye,

'Mid all the bless'd immortals:

That Thou above art King alone

All other gods high over,

The Father, Son, and Spirit, One,

Thy people's Shield and Cover,

One substance but three persons!




Why without, then, art Thou staying,

Blessed of the Lord from far?

Enter now, no more delaying,

Let it please Thee—Thou, my Star!

Thou, my Jesus, Friend indeed,

Helper in the hour of need!

Saviour! ease the wounds that pain me,

Let Thy comforts rich sustain me.

Lord, my wounds are pain and sorrow,

That the hammer of the law

With its terrors, night and morrow,

Causeth, filling me with awe.

Oh! the dreadful thunder peals

When His anger God reveals,

All my blood to tingle making,

And my heart's foundation shaking!


Then with wiles the great deceiver

Would to me all grace deny,

Saying, in the hell for ever

That torments him, I must be.

But I suffer sorer pangs,

For with poison'd serpent fangs

Doth my conscience gnawing, tearing,

Stir remorse beyond all bearing.

Do I seek my woe to soften,

And to lessen pain desire,

With the world commingling often,

Sink I quite into the mire.

There is comfort that deceives,

Joy that by my mischance lives,

Helpers there who only grieve me,

Friends who only mock and leave me.

Nothing in the world endureth,

Or the soul's thirst can allay;

Fleeting is the rank that lureth.

Have I riches? What are they


Better than small dust of earth?

Have I pleasure? What's it worth?

What to-day my heart doth gladden,

That to-morrow doth not sadden?

Comfort, joy, in boundless measure,

Stor'd, Lord Jesus, are in Thee,

Pastures of unfading pleasure,

Where we roam and feast so free.

Light of joy! illumine me

Ere my heart quite broken be!

Jesus, let mine eyes behold Thee;

Lord, refresh me and uphold me!

Heart, rejoice, for He doth hear thee,

And He visits thee again;

Now thy Saviour draweth near thee,

Bid Him gladsome welcome then,

And prepare thee for thy guest,

Enter thou into His rest,

While with open heart receiving,

Tell Him all that is thee grieving.


Lo! the things that seem'd to hinder

How they all fall out for good.

Hark! how He in accents tender

Comforts thee in gracious mood.

Ceas'd the dragon has to roar,

Scheming, raging, now no more.

His advantages forsake him,

He must to th' abyss betake him.

Now thy life is calm and even,

All thy heart's desire is thine;

Christ Himself to thee hath given

All He hath—exhaustless mine!

His grace is thy fairest crown,

Thou His seat art and His throne;

With Himself as one He makes thee,

Freely to His bosom takes thee.

God His golden-curtain'd Heaven

Spreadeth to encompass thee!

Lest thou shouldst away be driven

By thy raging enemy.


Angel hosts keep watch and ward

At thy side and are thy guard;

Lest in journeys aught should hurt thee,

By the way their arms support thee.

All the ill thou hast done ever

It is now remitted quite;

God's love thee doth now deliver

From sin's tyrant pow'r and might.

Christ the Prince hath won the day,

Rise against thee what ill may,

He, to purest good converting,

Robbeth of the pow'r of hurting.

All for thine advantage proveth,

E'en what hurtful may appear.

Christ accepteth thee and loveth,

And His thoughts are all sincere.

Thou in turn but faithful be,

Then shall certainly by thee,

With the angel hosts in Heaven,

Thanks and praise for aye be given.



Say with what salutations

Shall I Thine advent greet?

Desire of all the nations,

My Joy and Succour meet!

O Jesus! Jesus! lead me

On by Thy blessèd light;

What's Thy delight thus guide me

To understand aright.

With palms doth Zion meet Thee,

Spreads branches in the way;

To raise my soul to greet Thee

Glad psalms I'll sing to-day.

My heart shall blossom ever,

O'erflow with praises new,

And from Thy name shall never

Withhold the honour due.

What hast Thou e'er neglected

For my good here below?

When heart and soul dejected,

Were sunk in deepest woe,


When from Thy presence hidden,

Where peace and pleasure are,

Thou camest, and hast bidden

Me joy again, my Star!

In bitter bondage lying,

Thou com'st and sett'st me free;

'Neath scorn and shame when sighing,

Thou com'st and raisest me.

Thy grace high honour gives me,

Abundance doth bestow,

That wastes not, nor deceives me

As earthly riches do.

No other impulse led Thee

To leave Thy throne above,

Upon Thine errand sped Thee,

But world-embracing love!

A love that deeply feeleth

The wants and woes of men,

No tongue its fulness telleth,

It passeth human ken.


In thy heart be this written,

Thou much afflicted band!

Who evermore art smitten

With griefs on every hand.

Fear not! let nothing grieve thee,

For help is at thy door,

He'll consolation give thee,

Oil in thy wounds will pour.

No care nor effort either

Is needed day and night,

How thou may'st draw Him hither

In thine own strength and might.

He comes, He comes with gladness!

O'erflows with love to thee,

To chase away the sadness

He knows oppresseth thee.

Sin's debt, the mighty burden

Let not thy heart affright;

The Lord will freely pardon,

His grace will cover quite.


He comes! He comes! Salvation

Proclaiming everywhere,

Secures His chosen nation

Their heritage so fair!

Thy foes why should they move thee?

Their wiles and rage are vain,

Thy Saviour, who doth love thee,

Will scatter them again.

He comes! a Conq'ror glorious,

He'll scatter every band

Of foes—His course victorious

Too few they're to withstand.

He comes to judge each nation;

Who curs'd Him, curse shall He;

With grace and consolation,

Who lov'd, receiv'd shall be.

Oh! come, Thou Sun, and lead us

To everlasting light,

Up to Thy mansions guide us

Of glory and delight.

Birth of Christ.—Christmas.



Behold! behold! what wonder's here!

The gloomy night turns bright and clear,

A brilliant light dispels the shade,

The stars before it pale and fade.

A wondrous light it is, I trow,

And not the ancient sun shines now,

For, contrary to nature, night

Is turned by it to day so bright.

What means He to announce to us,

Who nature's course can alter thus?

A mighty work design'd must be

When such a mighty sign we see.

To us vouchsafèd can it be

The Sun of Righteousness to see,

The Star from Jacob's stem so bright,

The woman's Seed, the Gentiles' Light?


'Tis even so—for from the sky

Heav'n's hosts with joyful tidings hie,

That He is born in Bethl'hem's stall,

Who Saviour is and Lord of all!

Oh blessedness! the goodly throng

Of sainted fathers waited long

To see this day, with hope deferr'd,

As we may learn from God's own word.

Awake, ye sons of men, awake!

Up! up! and now your journey take

With me, let us together go

To where the blessèd angels show.

Behold! there in yon gloomy stall

He lies who ruleth over all;

Where once their food the cattle sought,

The Virgin's child for rest is brought.

Oh, child of Adam! ponder well,

And stumble not at what I tell,

He who appears in this low state

For us is, and aye shall be great.


In mortal flesh we Him behold,

Who all things made and doth uphold,

The Word who was with God is He,

Himself is God whom now we see.

It is God's sole-begotten Son

Through whom we now approach His throne,

The First and Last, the Prince of Peace,

The Conqueror through whom wars cease.

The times predicted are fulfill'd,

God's fiery wrath must now be still'd;

His Son, made man, doth bear our load

Of guilt, our peace buys with His blood.

It is a time of joy to-day,

With mourning and with woe away!

Woe, woe to him who us revil'd!

God's seen in flesh—we're reconcil'd.

The Lord who bears our sin is here,

Who'll bruise the serpent's head is near,

The Death of death—the Woe of hell—

The Lord of Life with us doth dwell.


All foes are put our feet beneath,

For sin and Satan, hell and death,

Are brought to shame and put to flight

Upon this great, this wondrous night.

Oh! happy world, thrice happy they!

Who on this lowly infant stay

Their souls, and with believing eyes

In Him their Saviour recognize.

Now praise the Lord whoe'er can praise,

Who from their low estate to raise

His enemies, from His high throne

Sent down His lov'd, His only Son.

Up! join the angel host and cry,

Now glory be to God most High;

Let peace prevail the world around,

Good-will to men and joy abound.



Now with joy my heart is bounding,

With delight

Angels bright

Praises forth are sounding.

Hark! hark! how the choirs of Heaven,

Through the sky

Raise the cry,

Christ to you is given!

He who's mighty to deliver,

Goes that He

Earth may free

From all woes for ever.

God is man, man to deliver,

His dear Son

Now is one

With our blood for ever.

God in us must now take pleasure,

For He gives

Whom He loves

Far beyond all measure.


To redeem us He hath given

His own Son

From the throne

Of His might in Heaven.

Who Himself and Kingdom ever,

Giveth free,

Oh! could He

Drive us from Him?—never!

Will not God's own Son now bless us?

He who loves

And removes

All things that distress us!

Had our human nature ever

By the Lord

Been abhorr'd,

He had been man never.

Had our Lord delighted ever

In our grief,

He relief

Would have brought us never.


All transgression He assumeth,

That we've done

'Neath the sun,

And our Lamb becometh.

As our Lamb His life is given,

So that we,

From death free,

May have peace and Heaven!

Now He's in the manger lying,

Me and thee

Calleth He,

In sweet accents crying,

“Banish, brethren, what's distressing,

All your ills,

All that falls,

I bring times of blessing.”

Come, and let us now go thither,

Let us all,

Great and small.

Flock in crowds together.


Love Him who with deep love burneth,

See the light

He so bright

Kindly on us turneth.

Ye who sink in deepest anguish,

Look ye here,

Joy is near,

Grieve no more, nor languish.

Cleave to Him and He will bring you

To the place,

By His grace,

Where no pain will wring you.

All ye hearts, oppress'd with sorrow,

Ye who feel

Sin's sore ill

And conviction's arrow,

Courage now! for One is living

Who hath skill

You to heal,

All your pain relieving.


All ye poor ones and distressèd,

Come—come ye

Take—'tis free,

Of His store so blessèd.

Here do all good gifts flow over,

Here is gold

Stores untold!

Here your hearts recover!

Gracious Saviour! deign to hear me,

And let me

Hang on thee,

Undisturb'd stay near Thee.

Of my life Thou art the Giver,

I through Thee


Live contented ever.

Guilt no longer can distress me,

Son of God!

Thou my load

Bearest to release me.


Stain in me Thou findest never,

I am clean,

All my sin

Is remov'd for ever.

For Thy sake I'm clean all over,

Thou dost me


With fair raiment cover.

To my heart's throne I will raise thee,

Glory mine!

Flow'r divine!

Let me love and praise Thee.

Diligently I'll preserve Thee,

To the skies

To Thee rise,

Here live for and serve Thee.

With Thee I at last shall wander,



And in glory yonder!



Come, and Christ the Lord be praising,

Heart and mind to Him be raising,

Celebrate His love amazing,

Worthy folk of Christendom!

Sin, death, hell, may all be grieving,

Satan shame feel to him cleaving,

We salvation free receiving,

Cast our every care away.

See what God for us provideth,

Life that in His Son abideth,

And our weary steps He guideth

From earth's woe to heav'nly joy.

His soul deeply for us feeleth,

He His love to us revealeth,

He who in the heavens dwelleth

Came to save us from our foe.


Jacob's star His advent maketh,

Soothes the longing heart that acheth,

And the serpent's head He breaketh,

Scattering the pow'r of hell.

Op'd hath He and freedom gain'd us

From the prison that contain'd us,

Where much grief and sorrow pain'd us,

And our hearts were bow'd with woe.

O bless'd hour when we receivèd

From the foe who us deceivèd

Liberty, when we believèd,

And Thee, gracious Savior, prais'd.

Beauteous Infant in the manger,

O befriend us! beyond danger

Bring us where is turn'd God's anger,

Where with angel hosts we'll praise!



Thy manger is

My paradise,

O Jesus Christ!

Where feeds my soul delighted.

There 'fore mine eyes

The Word now lies,

Who to our flesh

In person is united.

Whom wind and sea

Obey, e'en He

In servant's form

And place for men's appearing.

God's own Son, Thou

Assumest now

Clay weak and mean,

Such as our own, art wearing!

Thou, highest Good!

Dost raise our blood

Up to Thy throne,


High o'er all heights whatever!

Pow'r endless, Thou

Art brother now

To us who like

The grass and flowers, wither!

What harm can do

Our soul's dread foe

To us at all,

Though full of gall his spirit?

The things that he

Accuseth me

And others of,

From Adam we inherit.

Be silent, fiend!

There sits my Friend,

My flesh and blood,

High in the heav'ns enthronèd:

What Thou dost smite

The Prince of might

From Jacob's stem

With honours high hath ownèd.


His health and light,

Heal and give sight,

And heaven's Joy

All earthly ill undoeth.


Of joy the Well,

The devil, hell,

And all their pow'r subdueth.

Believing heart,

Whoe'er thou art,

Be of good cheer,

Let nothing e'er depress thee;

Because God's Son

Makes thee God's own,

God must prove true

To thee, and ever bless thee.

Now think and see

How gloriously,

He over all


Distress hath thee uplifted.

He who reigns o'er

The angels, more

Than thou art, is

With blessedness not gifted.

Lo! seest thou

Before thee now,

Thy flesh and blood,

Who air and clouds rules ever.

What can there be

(I ask of thee)

That can arise,

To fear thee to deliver?

Things oft affright

Thy feeble sight

And make thee sigh,

Thy consolations vanish:

Come hither, then,

Behold again

Christ's manger here,

And all misgivings banish.


Though plagued with care,

Yet ne'er despair!

Thy Brother ne'er

Thy misery disdaineth;

His gracious heart

Feels every smart,

Nor when He sees

Our woe, from tears refraineth.

To Him now go,

He'll help bestow

And rest, and thou

Good cause shalt have for blessing.

Full well He knows

What burns and glows,

What on the heart

Of each sick one is pressing.

He therefore bore

The wrath so sore

Of the dread cross


In His flesh, shrinking never,

That through His pain

He might retain

The memory

Of our distresses ever.

The gate is He

That leadeth me

To present joy,

And to eternal blessing.

He soon doth send

A happy end

To all the grief

On pious heart that's pressing.

The world's base pelf

Leave to itself,

And make thou sure,

This treasure thine remaineth.

It firmly keep

Nor let it slip,

It there a crown

For soul and body gaineth!



Now at the manger here I stand,

My Jesus, Life from Heaven!

I stand, and bring Thee in my hand

What Thou to me hast given.

Take it, it is my mind and wit,

Heart, soul, and all I have, take it,

And deign to let it please Thee!

With Thy great love beyond compare,

My soul Thou fillest ever,

Thy glance so sweet, Thine image fair,

My heart forgetteth never.

How otherwise e'er could it be,

How could I ever banish Thee,

From my heart's throne, O Saviour!

Ere ever I began to be,

Thou hadst for me appearèd,

And as Thine own hadst chosen me

Ere Thee I knew or fearèd.


Before I by Thy hand was made,

Thou hadst the plan in order laid,

How Thou Thyself shouldst give me.

I lay still in death's deepest night,

Till Thou, my Sun, arising,

Didst bring joy, pleasure, life, and light,

My waken'd soul surprising.

O Sun! who dost so graciously

Faith's goodly light to dawn in me

Aye cause; Thy beams how beauteous!

With rapture do I gaze on Thee,

Ne'er can enough adore Thee,

Pow'r more to do is not in me,

I'll praise and bow before Thee.

Oh! that my mind were an abyss,

My soul a sea, wide, bottomless,

That so I might embrace Thee.

Oh! let me kiss that mouth of Thine,

My Jesus, Saviour gracious!

Thy mouth that e'en the sweetest wine,

And milk and honey precious,


In pow'r and virtue doth excel,

Of comfort, strength, and sap 'tis full,

And inwardly refreshes.

When oft my heart within doth cry,

No comfort can discover,

It calls to me, Thy friend am I,

Thine ev'ry sin I cover;

My flesh and bone, why mournest thou?

Let thy heart be of good cheer now,

Thy debt, I have discharg'd it.

Who is the Master, where is he,

Who in perfection sketcheth

The hands this infant dear to me

Now smilingly outstretcheth?

The snow is clear, and milk is white,

But both lose all their value quite

Before these hands so beauteous.

Oh! wisdom fails me utterly

For honouring and praising

The eyes this infant fixedly

To mine is ever raising.


The fall moon, it is clear and fair,

The golden stars most beauteous are,

But these eyes far excel them.

Oh! that a star so passing fair

Should in a crib be holden!

Who mighty nobles' children are

Should lie in cradles golden!

Ah! hay and straw too wretched are,

Silk, velvet, purple better far,

Were for Thee, Child! to lie on.

Remove the straw, remove the hay,

From where the child reposes,

And flow'rs I'll bring that lie He may

On violets and roses.

With tulips, pinks, and rosemary,

From goodly gardens pluck'd by me,

I'll from above bestrew Him.

And snow-white lilies here and there

His side shall be thrown over;

When closed His eyes with slumber are,

Them shall they softly cover.


But Thou mayest love the grass so dry,

My Child! more than the things that I

Have spoken or have thought of.

Not for the world's pride dost Thou care,

Nor joys the flesh doth offer;

In human form Thou liest there,

For us to do and suffer,

Seek'st joy and comfort for my soul,

While waves of trouble o'er Thee roll;

I never will Thee hinder.

One thing I hope Thou'lt grant to me,

My Saviour! ne'er deny me,

That I may evermore have Thee

Within, and on, and by me.

And let my heart Thy cradle be,

Come, come and lie Thou down in me,

With all Thy joys and treasures!

'Tis true, that I should think how poor

And mean my entertaining,

Than dust and ashes I'm no more,

Thou mad'st, art all-sustaining,


Yet Thou'rt a guest belov'd and priz'd,

For never yet hast Thou despis'd

Him who delights to see Thee!


Immanuel! to Thee we sing,

The Fount of life, of grace the Spring,

Than fairest lily fairer far,

Lord of all Lords, the morning Star!


With all Thy people, Lord, we raise

To Thee our heart-felt songs of praise,

That Thou, O long-expected Guest!

Hast brought us our desirèd rest.


Since the Creator said—“Light be!”

How many a heart hath watch'd for Thee!

Of Fathers, Prophets, Saints the throng

With ardent hope have waited long.



Than others more, the Shepherd King

Belov'd by Thee, and wont to sing

Thy praise on sounding harp, inspir'd

By deeper longing, Thee desir'd.


Ah Zion! that thy Lord to thee

Would come and set thy captives free;

Ah! that our help would now arise

And gladden Jacob's waiting eyes.


There art Thou now, Thou ever-bless'd!

There dost Thou in the manger rest;

The world Thou deck'st, all things hast made—

Thou'rt naked there, in weakness laid.


A stranger art Thou here below,

To whom the Heav'ns allegiance owe;

A mother's milk dost not despise,

Who art the Joy of angels' eyes.



The bounds of ocean fix'd hast Thou,

Who art a swaddled infant now;

Thou'rt God—a bed of straw Thou hast.

Thou'rt man—yet art the First and Last.


Of every joy Thou art the spring,

Yet sorrow oft Thy heart doth wring.

The Gentiles' Light and Hope Thou art,

Yet findest none to soothe Thy heart.


The sweetest Friend of man Thou art,

Though many hate Thee in their heart!

The heart of Herod loathèd Thee,

Yet what art Thou? Salvation free!


Thy meanest servant, Lord! am I,

I say it in sincerity;

I love Thee, but not half so well

As I should love,—more love I'd feel.



My pow'r is weak, though will be there,

But my poor heart against Thee ne'er

Shall rise t' oppose,—Thou wilt receive

By grace the little I can give.


Thou to be weak dost not disdain,

Dost choose the things the world deems vain,

Art poor and needy, and dost come,

By love impell'd, to want's drear home!


Thou sleepest on the lap of earth,

The manger where Thou at Thy birth

Wast laid to rest, the hay, the stall

Were mean, were miserable all.


And therefore doth my courage rise,

Thy servant wilt Thou not despise;

The gracious mind that dwells in Thee

Fills me with hope and gladdens me.



Lord! though I've pass'd in sin my days,

And wandered far from wisdom's ways,

Yet therefore Thou to earth hast come,

To bring the wand'ring sinner home.


Had I no debt of sin to face,

How could I ever share Thy grace?

In vain for me Thine advent here,

Had I no wrath of God to fear.


Lord, fearlessly I come to Thee,

Thou keep'st my soul from anguish free;

Thou bear'st the wrath, dost death destroy,

And sorrow turnest into joy.


My Head Thou art, Thy member I

In turn am, and Thy property;

Lord, I will serve Thee while I live

With all the grace Thou deign'st to give.



Loud hallelujahs here I'll sing,

With joy that from my heart doth spring,

And when I reach yon mansions fair

I will repeat them ever there.



New Year.


Why should they such pain e'er give Thee,

Why inflict such cruel smart?

Jesus, why should they so grieve Thee,

Who're uncircumcis'd in heart,

By this rite? Though Thou art free

From the law's yoke utterly,

Yet man's nature art Thou wearing,

But no sin its beauty marring.

For Thyself Thou dost not bear it,

Of the Cov'nant Thou art Head;

'Tis our debts that make Thee share it,

That like grievous load of lead

Lie upon us, and Thy heart

Pierce e'en to the inmost part;

These Thou bearest to deliver

Us, who could have paid them never.


Let your hearts be glad, ye debtors!

Let the world rejoice to-day,

For the Son of God our fetters

Breaks, the price begins to pay.

This day is the Law fulfill'd,

This day is God's anger still'd,

Whom to death law did deliver,

God's Son makes God's heirs for ever.

We this grace enough can never

Own, nor for it grateful be;

Heart and mouth, O Saviour! ever

Shall exalt and honour Thee!

We shall praise with all our pow'r

All Thy goodness, Thee adore,

While in weakness here we wander,

And Thy praise re-echo yonder!



In pray'r your voices raise ye

To God, and Him now praise ye,

Who to our life from heaven

All needed strength hath given.

The stream of years is flowing,

And we are onward going,

From old to new surviving,

And by His mercy thriving.

In woe we often languish,

And pass through times of anguish,

When fearful war aboundeth,

That earth itself surroundeth.

As faithful mother keepeth

Guard while her infant sleepeth,

And all its grief assuageth

When angry tempest rageth;


So God His children shieldeth,

Them full protection yieldeth;

When need and woe distress them,

His loving arms caress them.

In vain is all our doing,

The labour we're pursuing

In our hands prospers never,

Unless God watcheth ever.

Our song to Thee ascendeth,

Who every day defendeth

Us, and whose arm averteth

The pain our hearts that hurteth.

O God of mercy! hear us;

Our Father! be Thou near us;

'Mid crosses and in sadness

Be Thou our Spring of gladness.

To me and all be given,

Who from the heart have striven

To gain Thy benediction,

Hearts patient in affliction.


Oh! close the gates of sorrow,

And by a glorious morrow

Of peace, may places sadden'd

By bloodshed dire be gladden'd.

With richest blessings crown us,

In all our ways, Lord! own us;

Give grace, who grace bestowest

To all, e'en to the lowest.

Of all forlorn be Father,

All erring ones ingather,

And of the poor and needy

Be Thou the succour speedy.

Grace show to all afflicted,

And to all souls dejected,

By melancholy haunted,

May happy thoughts be granted.

All earthly gifts excelling,

The Holy Ghost indwelling,

Give us to make us glorious,

And lead to Thee victorious.


All this Thy hand bestoweth,

Thou Life! whence our life floweth,

Thus Thou Thy people meetest

With New Year's blessing greetest.

The Sufferings of Christ.--Good Friday.



Isa. liii. 4-7; John i. 29.

A Lamb bears all its guilt away

The world thus to deliver,

All sins of sinners patiently

It bears and murmurs never.

It goes, and weak and sick is made

An off'ring on the altar laid,

All pleasure it forsaketh,

Submits to shame, and scorn, and wrath,

To anguish, wounds, stripes, cross, and death,

This cup with gladness taketh.

This Lamb, He is the soul's great Friend

And everlasting Saviour,

God chooseth Him sin's reign to end

And bring us to His favour.


“Go forth, my Son! redeem to Thee

The children who're exposed by me

To punishment and anger.

The punishment is great, and dread

The wrath, but Thou Thy blood shalt shed,

And free them thus from danger.”

“I'll go where, Father! thou dost send,

Bear what on me Thou layest,

My will doth on Thy word depend,

My work is what Thou sayest.”

O mighty love! O wondrous love!

Thou canst do all our thoughts above,

Make God His Son deliver!

O love! O love! Thy pow'r how great!

Thou did'st Him e'en to death prostrate

Whose glance the rocks can shiver.

Thou martyr'st Him upon the tree,

With spear and nails destroying

Thou slay'st Him, lamblike, ruthlessly,

Till heart and veins are flowing,


The heart with many a long-drawn sigh,

And till His veins are copiously

Their noble life-blood yielding.

Sweet Lamb! what shall I do for Thee

For all the good Thou doest me,

Thus saving me and shielding?

All my life long I'll cleave to Thee

And shall forget Thee never,

As always Thou embracest me

I will embrace Thee ever.

My heart's Light Thou shalt ever be,

And when my heart shall break in me

Thy heart shall fail me never.

O Thou, my Glory, I to Thee

Myself as Thine own property

Herewith resign for ever!

I ever shall both night and day

Thy loveliness be singing,

An offering of joy shall aye

Myself to Thee be bringing.


My stream of life shall still to Thee,

And to Thy name, outpourèd be,

In gratitude enduring.

Of every good Thou doest me,

My soul shall mindful strive to be,

In memory securing!

Shrine of my heart! now open'd be,

To thee shall now be given

Fair treasures that far greater be

Than earth, and sea, and heaven.

Away! gold of Arabia,

Myrrh, calamus, and cassia,

Far better I discover!

My priceless treasure is, O Thou

My Jesus! what so freely now

From Thy wounds floweth over!

Good use of this behoves it me

At all times to be making,

My shield in conflict shall it be,

My joy when heart is breaking,


In happiness my song of joy;

When all things else my taste do cloy,

This manna then shall feed me,

In thirst my well-spring shall it be,

In solitude converse with me,

And out and in shall lead me!

What can death's poison do to me?

Thy blood to me life giveth,

And when the sun burns fervently,

With grateful shade relieveth;

And when with sorrow sore oppress'd

I ever find in it my rest,

As sick men on their pillows.

My anchor art Thou, when my skies

Are clouded o'er, and tempests rise,

My bark 'whelm in the billows.

And when at last heav'n's gate I see,

And taste the kingdom's pleasure,

This blood shall then my purple be,

I'll clothe me in this treasure;


It shall be then my glorious crown,

In which I'll stand before the throne

Of God, with none to blame me;

And as a bride in fair array,

I'll stand beside my Lord that day,

Who woo'd, and then will claim me.


See, world! thy Life assailèd;

On the accurs'd tree nailèd,

Thy Saviour sinks in death!

The mighty Prince from Heaven

Himself hath freely given

To shame, and blows, and cruel wrath!

Come hither now and ponder,

'Twill fill thy soul with wonder,

Blood streams from every pore.

Through grief whose depth none knoweth,

From His great heart there floweth

Sigh after sigh of anguish o'er!


Who is it that afflicts Thee?

My Saviour, what dejects Thee,

And causeth all Thy woe?

Sin Thou committed'st never,

As we and our seed ever,

Of deeds of evil nought dost know.

I many times transgressing,

In number far surpassing

The sand upon the coast,

I thus the cause have given,

That Thou with grief art riven,

And the afflicted martyr host.

I've done it, and deliver

Me hand and foot for ever

Thou justly might'st to hell.

The mock'ry to Thee offer'd,

The scourging Thou hast suffer'd,

My soul it was deserv'd it well.

The load Thou takest on Thee,

That press'd so sorely on me,


Than stone more heavily.

A curse, Lord, Thou becamest,

Thus blessings for me claimest,

Thy pain must all my comfort be.

Not death itself Thou fearest,

As surety Thou appearest

For all my debts and me.

For me Thy brow is crownèd

With thorns, and Thou'rt disownèd

By men, and bear'st all patiently.

Into death's jaws Thou springest,

Deliv'rance to me bringest

From such a monster dire.

My death away Thou takest,

Thy grave its grave Thou makest;

Of love, O unexampled fire!

I'm bound, my Saviour, ever,

By ties most sacred never

Thy service to forsake;

With soul and body ever,

With all my pow'rs t' endeavour,

In praise and service joy to take.


Not much can I be giving

In this poor life I'm living,

But one thing do I say:

Thy death and sorrows ever,

Till soul from body sever,

My heart remember shall for aye.

Before mine eyes I'll place them,

And joyfully embrace them,

Wherever I may be,

They'll be a glass revealing

Pure innocence, and sealing

Love and unfeign'd sincerity.

Of sin how great the danger,

How it excites God's anger,

How doth His vengeance burn

How sternly He chastiseth,

How His wrath's flood ariseth,

Shall I from all Thy suff'rings learn.

From them shall I be learning,

How I may be adorning,


My heart with quietness,

And how I still should love them

Whose malice aye doth move them

To grieve me by their wickedness.

When tongues of bad men grieve me,

Of peace and name deprive me,

My restive heart I'll still;

Their evil deeds enduring,

Of pardon free assuring

My neighbour for his ev'ry ill.

I'll on the cross unite me

To Thee, what doth delight me

I'll there renounce for aye.

Whate'er Thy Spirit's grieving,

There I'll for aye be leaving,

As much as in my strength doth lay.

Thy groaning and Thy sighing,

Thy thousand tears and crying,

That once were heard from Thee,

They'll lead me to Thy glory,

Where I shall joy before Thee,

And evermore at rest shall be!



Oh! bleeding head, and wounded,

And full of pain and scorn,

In mockery surrounded

With cruel crown of thorn!

Oh Head! before adornèd

With grace and majesty,

Insulted now and scornèd,

All hail I bid to Thee!

They spit upon and jeer Thee,

Thou noble countenance!

Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee,

And flee before Thy glance.

How hath Thy colour faded,

The light too of Thine eye!

Say who to pale hath made it?

None shone so brilliantly.

Now from Thy cheeks is vanish'd

Their colour once so fair;

From Thy red lips is banish'd

The splendour that was there.


Death's might hath all things taken,

Hath robb'd Thee ruthlessly;

Thy frame, of strength forsaken,

Doth hence in weakness lie.

O Lord! it was my burden

That brought this woe on Thee,

I earn'd it—for my pardon

It has been borne by Thee.

A child of wrath, look on me,

Turn not away Thy face;

O Saviour! deign to own me,

And smile on me in grace.

My Guardian, now confess me,

My Shepherd, me receive!

Thou evermore dost bless me,

All good things dost Thou give.

Thy mouth hath often given

Me milk and sweetest food.

And many a taste of Heaven

Thy Spirit hath bestow'd.


Oh! do not, Lord, deride me,

I will not hence depart,

Here will I stand beside Thee,

When breaks Thine anguish'd heart;

When on Thy breast is sinking

In death's last fatal grasp

Thy head, e'en then unshrinking

Thee in mine arms I'll clasp.

Nought ever so much blesses,

So much rejoices me,

As when in Thy distresses

I share a part with Thee.

My Life, ah! were it ever

Vouchsaf'd me on Thy cross

My soul up to deliver,

How blessèd were my loss!

Thanks from my heart I offer

Thee, Jesus, dearest Friend,

For all that Thou didst suffer,

My good didst Thou intend.


Ah! grant that I may ever

To Thy truth faithful be,

And in the last death-shiver

May I be found in Thee.

When hence I must betake me,

And death at last must meet,

Lord, do not then forsake me,

Thy child with welcome greet.

When terror has bereft me,

Of heart and hope, again,

Lord! from my woe uplift me,

In virtue of Thy pain.

Be Thou my consolation

When death o'ertaketh me;

May Thy death-tribulation

Before mine eyes then be!

I'll on Thee, fondly gazing,

Fix my believing eyes,

While firmly Thee embracing,—

He dies well who so dies.



My heart! the seven words hear now

That Jesus Christ hath spoken,

When on the cross His heart through woe

And murder dire was broken;

Ope now the shrine,

And lock them in,

As gifts all price excelling.

In bitter grief,

They'll give relief,

'Neath crosses joy instilling.

His first and chiefest care He made

Who hated Him to cover:

God for the wicked men He pray'd,

That He'd their sin look over.

“Forgive, forgive,”

He said in love,

“Them every one, O Father!

Not one doth see

What doeth he,

In ignorance 'tis rather!”


How fair it is, let all learn here,

To love their foes who grieve them,

And all their faults with hearts sincere

Aye freely to forgive them.

He also shows,

How grace o'erflows

His heart, how kind His mood is,

That e'en his foe,

Who'd work Him woe,

Doth in Him find what good is!

Then to His mother doth He speak,

Who stood near him He loveth,

And as He can, though voice be weak,

With words of comfort sootheth:

“Woman! there see

Thy son, for me

Thou shalt by him be guarded.

Disciple! see,

Let her by thee

As mother be regarded.”


O faithful heart! thou car'st for all

Thine own who truly love Thee,

When they in tribulation fall

Thou seest, the sight doth move Thee;

A friend in need,

In word and deed,

Thou at their side appearest,

Dost by Thy grace

Find them a place,

Them to good souls endearest.

The third thing that Thy lips have said

Thou spak'st to him beside Thee,

When, “Think upon me then,” he pray'd,

“When God Himself shall guide Thee

Up to Thy throne,

Thy head shall crown

As Lord of earth and heaven:”

“To walk with Me

To-day shall thee

In Paradise be given.”


O blessèd word! O voice of joy!

Can aught affright us?—never!

Let death who seeketh to destroy,

Now disappear for ever!

Though he rage sore,

What can he more

Than soul and body sever?

And meanwhile I

Mount up on high,

In joy to dwell for ever.

Christ's word gives deepest peace and joy,

The robber's trouble stilleth;

But He cries from the agony

His holy breast that filleth,

“Eli, my God,

What heavy load

Am I, Thy Son, now bearing?

I call, and Thou

Art silent now,

Though I sink, seem'st not caring.”


This lesson learn, thou child of faith,

When God His count'nance veileth,

Lest thou be cast down in the path

When trouble thee assaileth:

Firm to Him cleave,

Though He may leave,

He'll comfort soon, and cheer thee;

True do thou be,

Cry mightily,

Until He turn and hear thee.

The Lord His voice now clear doth raise

Through thirst that paineth sorely;

“I thirst,” the Spring eternal says,

The Lord of life and glory.

What meaneth He?

He showeth thee

How He thy load sinks under,

That thou did'st pile

For Him, the while

In sin's ways thou did'st wander.


Thereby He also telleth thee

How much He longs that ever

His cross in each may fruitful be,

Fail of its end may never.

Mark this all ye,

Now carefully,

Who're in soul tribulation:

Th' eternal Sun

Refuseth none

The soul's part and salvation.

And as the gloomy night of death

Upon the Lord descended,

“'Tis finish'd,” He with dying breath

Said, “now my work is ended;

What was foretold

In days of old,

By seers who went before me,

Doth now betide;

I'm crucified,

And men now triumph o'er me.”


“'Tis finish'd!”—why then toilest thou?

In vain thy labour ever!

As if aught human strength can do,

Could e'er from guilt deliver!

'Tis done! beware,

And never dare

To add aught to it ever;

Do thou believe,

In faith aye cleave

To Him, forsake Him never.

His voice at length the Lord doth raise,

High over all 'tis swelling:

“My spirit, Father! to the place

Take where Thou'rt ever dwelling,

My soul receive,

That now doth leave

This body sorely riven.”

And at the word,

To the great Lord

Release from pain was given.


Oh! would to God, that I might end

My life as His was ended,

My spirit unto God commend

As His was then commended.

O Christ, my Lord!

May Thy last word

The last be by me spoken;

So happily

I'll go to Thee,

When life's last thread is broken.


Resurrection of Christ.—Easter.


Up! up! my heart with gladness,

See what to-day is done!

How after gloom and sadness

Comes forth the glorious Sun!

My Saviour there was laid

Where our bed must be made,

When to the realms of light

Our spirit wings its flight.

They in the grave did sink Him,

The foe held jubilee;

Before he can bethink him,

Lo! Christ again is free.

And victory He cries,

And waving tow'rds the skies

His banner, while the field

Is by the Hero held!


Upon the grave is standing

The Hero looking round;

The foe, no more withstanding,

His weapons on the ground

Throws down, his hellish pow'r

To Christ must he give o'er,

And to the Victor's bands

Must yield his feet and hands.

A sight it is to gladden

And fill the heart with glee,

No more affright or sadden

Shall aught, or take from me

My trust or fortitude,

Or any precious good

The Saviour bought for me

In sov'reign love and free.

Hell and its bands can never

Hurt e'en a single hair,

Sin can I mock at ever,

Safe am I everywhere.


The mighty pow'r of death

Is my regard beneath;

It is a pow'rless form,

Howe'er it rage and storm.

The world my laughter ever

Moves, though it rage amain,

It rages, but can never

Do ill, its work is vain.

No trouble troubles me,

My heart from care is free,

Misfortune is my prize,

The night my fair sunrise.

I cleave, and cleave shall ever,

To Christ, a member true,

Shall part from my Head never,

Whate'er He passes through;

He treads the world beneath

His feet, and conquers death

And hell, and breaks sin's thrall;

I'm with Him through it all.


To halls of heav'nly splendour

With Him I penetrate;

And trouble ne'er may hinder

Nor make me hesitate.

What will, may angry be,

My Head accepteth me,

My Saviour is my Shield,

By Him all rage is still'd.

He to the gates me leadeth

Of yon fair realms of light,

Whereon the pilgrim readeth,

In golden letters bright:

“Who's there despised with me,

Here with me crown'd shall be;

Who there with me shall die,

Here's raised with me on high!”



Be joyful all, both far and near,

Who lost were and dejected:

To-day the Lord of glory here,

Whom God Himself elected

As our Redeemer, who His blood

Upon the cross shed for our good,

Hath from the grave arisen.

How well succeeded hath thy might,

Thou foe of life so ruthless!

To kill the Lord of life and light;

Thine arrow through Him scathless

Hath pass'd, thou base injurious foe!

Thou thought'st when thou hadst laid Him low,

He'd lie in dust for ever.

No, no! on high His head is borne,

His mighty pow'r asunder

Thy gates hath burst, thy bands hath torn,

Thyself hath trodden under


His feet; who doth in Him confide

Thy pow'r and claims may now deride

And say, “Thy sting, where is it?”

Thy pow'r is gone, 'tis broken quite,

And it can hurt him never

Who to this Prince with all his might

With heart and soul cleaves ever,

Who speaks with joy, “I live, and ye

Shall also live for aye with me,

For I this life have purchas'd.

“The reign and pow'r of death are o'er,

He never need affright you;

I am his Lord, the Prince of pow'r,

And this may well delight you;

And as your risen Head I live:

So ye, if ye on me believe,

Shall be my members ever.

“Of hell have I the overthrow

Accomplish'd, none now needeth

To fear the pains of endless woe,

Who Me and My word heedeth;


He's freed from Satan's grievous yoke,

Whose head I bruis'd, whose might I broke,

And he can never harm him.”

Now prais'd be God, who vict'ry hath

To us through Jesus given,

Who peace for war, and life for death,

With entrance into heaven,

Hath purchas'd, who death, sin, and woe,

World, devil, what our overthrow

Would seek, for aye hath vanquish'd.




O Father! send Thy Spirit down,

Whom we are bidden by Thy Son

To seek, from Thy high heaven;

We ask as He taught us to pray,

And let us ne'er unheard away

From 'fore Thy throne be driven.

No mortal man upon the earth

Is of this gift so noble worth,

No merit we've to gain it;

Here only grace availeth aught,

That Jesus Christ for us hath bought,

His tears and death obtain it.

O Father! much it grieves Thy mind

Us in such woful plight to find,

As Adam's fall hath brought us;

The evil spirit's pow'r, this fall

Hath brought on him, and on us all,

But Christ to save hath sought us.


To our salvation, Lord, we cleave,

That we are Thine in Christ believe,

From Him nought shall us sever;

And through His death and precious blood,

Our mansions fair, and highest good,

We look for, doubting never.

This is a work of grace indeed,

The Holy Spirit's strength we need,

Our pow'r is unavailing;

Our faith and our sincerity

Would soon, O Lord! in ashes lie,

Were not Thy help unfailing.

Of faith Thy Spirit keeps the light,

Though all the world against us fight,

And storm with every weapon.

Although the prince of this world too,

May take the field to lay us low,

No ill through him can happen.

The Spirit's is the winning side,

And where He helps, the battle's tide


Assuredly abateth.

What's Satan's might and majesty?

It falleth when His standard high

The Spirit elevateth.

The chains of hell He rends in twain,

Consoles and frees the heart again

From everything that grieveth;

And when misfortunes o'er us low'r

He shields us better in their hour,

Than ever heart conceiveth.

The bitter cross He maketh sweet,

In gloom His light our eyes doth greet,

Care of His sheep He taketh,

Holds over us the shield, and when

Night falls upon His flock, He then

To rest in peace us maketh.

The Spirit God gives from above

Directeth all who truly love

In ways of safety ever;

He guides our goings every day,

From paths of bliss to turn away

Our feet permits us never.


He maketh fit, and furnishes

With needed gifts for service those

Who here God's house are rearing,

Adorns their minds and mouths and hearts,

And light to them for us imparts,

What's dark to us thus clearing.

Our hearts He opens secretly

When they His word so faithfully

As precious seed are sowing;

He giveth pow'r to it, where'er

It takes root, tending it with care,

And waters it when growing.

He teacheth us the fear of God,

Loves purity, makes His abode

The soul that sin refuseth;

Who contrite are, virtue revere,

Repent, and turn to Him in fear

And love, He ever chooseth.

He's true, and true doth aye abide,

In death's dark hour He's at our side,


When all from us recedeth;

He sootheth our last agony,

Up to the halls of bliss on high

In joy and trust He leadeth.

Oh! happy are the souls and bless'd,

Who while on earth permit this Guest

To make in them His dwelling;

Who now receive Him joyfully,

He'll take up to God's house on high,

Their souls with rapture filling.

Now, Father, who all good dost give,

Our pray'r hear, may we all receive

From Thee this priceless blessing;

Thy Spirit give, that here He may

Rule us, and there in endless day

Our souls be aye refreshing.




Let not such a thought e'er pain thee,

As that thou art cast away,

But within God's word restrain thee,

That far otherwise doth say.

E'en though thou unrighteous art,

True and faithful is God's heart.

Hast thou death deserv'd for ever?

God's appeas'd, despond thou never!

Thou art, as is every other,

Tainted by the poison, sin,

That the serpent, and our father,

Adam, by the fall brought in.

But if thou God's voice dost hear,

“Turn to me, do good,” ne'er fear,

Be of good cheer, He thy yearning

Will regard, thy pray'r ne'er spurning.


He is not a bear nor lion

Thirsting only for thy blood,

Faithful is thy God in Zion,

Gentle ever is His mood.

God aye as a Father feels,

He's afflicted by our ills,

Our misfortune sorrow gives Him,

And our dying ever grieves Him.

“Truly,” saith He, “as I'm living,

I the death of none desire,

But that men themselves upgiving,

May be rescu'd from sin's mire.”

When a prodigal returns,

God's heart then with rapture burns,

Wills that not the least one even

Ever from His flock be driven.

Shepherd was so faithful never,

Seeking sheep that go astray;

Couldest thou God's heart see ever,

How He cares for them alway,


How it thirsts and sighs and burns

After him who from Him turns,

From His people's midst doth wander,

Love would make thee weep and ponder.

God the good not only loveth

Who in His house ever dwell,

But His heart compassion moveth

Tow'rds those whom the prince of hell

Hath enslav'd, the cruel foe

Who men's hearts with hate to glow

Makes 'gainst Him, who when He ever

Moves His foot, can make earth quiver.

Deep His love is and enduring,

His desire is ever great,

He is calling and alluring

Us to enter heav'n's wide gate.

When they come, whoe'er they be,

Seeking now that liberty

From the devil's fangs be given,

Glad are all the hosts of heaven.


God and all on high who're dwelling,

'Fore whom heav'n must hush its voice,

When their Maker's praise forth-telling,

O'er our penitence rejoice;

But what has been done amiss

Cover'd now and buried is,

All offence to Him we've given,

All, yea all, is now forgiven.

From no lake so much is gushing,

No depth is so deep at all,

With such force no stream is rushing,

All compar'd with God is small;

Nought is like His grace so great,

That remits our mighty debt,

That He ever throweth over

All our lives e'en as a cover.

Soul, why art thou sad and dreary?

Rest now and contented be!

Why wilt thou thyself so weary

When there is no need for thee?


Though thy sins appear to thee

Like a vast and shoreless sea,

If thou with God's heart compare them,

'Twill a trifle seem to bear them.

Could we myriad worlds discover

All sunk in apostacy,

Had the sins there o'er and over

Every one been done by thee,

Oh! still they were less by far

Than the light of grace so clear

Could on earth extinguish ever,

God from greater could deliver.

Of such wondrous love and favour

Open wide the door to me;

Ey'rywhere and aye, my Saviour,

Tasted be Thy grace by me.

Love me, Lord! and let me be

Nearer ever drawn to Thee,

That I may embrace and love Thee,

Never more to anger move Thee!



For Thee, Lord, pants my longing heart,

My hope and confidence Thou art;

My hope can never shaken be,

Nor e'er be put to shame by Thee.

Whoe'er he be that scorns Thy name,

And turns from Thee, shall come to shame;

But he who ever lives to Thee,

And loves Thee, shall untroubled be.

Accept my soul, O Lord! by grace,

And keep me right in all my ways,

And let Thy truth illumine me

Along the path that leads to Thee.

Thou art my only light below,

No other helper here I know;

I wait on Thee both night and day,

Why dost Thou, then, O Lord, delay?


Ah, Lord! now turn Thine eyes away

From paths where I have gone astray;

Of my ill ways what thinkest Thou,

That I've pursued from youth till now?

Remember, Thou my Guardian Lord!

Thy loving-kindness and sweet word,

Whereby Thou giv'st them comfort sweet

Who lay themselves low at Thy feet.

Who prove themselves, and sin confess,

The Lord in mercy rich will bless;

Who keep His testimonies all,

The Lord will hold them when they fall.

The heart that with the Lord is right

In grief He'll gladden with His light,

When sunk in need, weigh'd down by loss,

Shall triumph e'en beneath the cross.

Ah! Lord, full well thou knowest me,

My spirit lives and moves in Thee;

Thou seest how my bleeding heart

Longs for the help Thou canst impart.


The griefs that now my heart oppress,

The griefs my heavy sighs express

Are great and sore, but Thou art He

To whom nought e'er too great can be.

To Thee I therefore raise mine eyes,

To Thee mine ardent longings rise—

Ah! let Thine eye now rest on me

As Thou wast wont, Lord, graciously.

And when I need supporting grace,

Turn not away from me Thy face;

May what Thou deignest to impart

Of my desires be counterpart.

The world is false, it acts a part,

Thou art my Friend, sincere in heart;

Man's smile is only on his mouth,

Thou lovest us in deed and truth.

Foil Thou the foe, his nets all tear,

And baffle every wile and snare;

When all with me once more is well,

May gratitude my bosom swell.


Still may I in Thy fear abide,

And go right on nor turn aside;

Give single aim that honours Thee,

Smarts rather than a burden be.

Rule, Lord, and bring me unto Thee,

And other saints along with me;

Remove whate'er of ill dost find,

Renew and cleanse each heart and mind.

Wash Thou away each sinful stain,

Deliver from all grief and pain,

And lead us soon by heav'nly grace

To realms of endless joy and peace.



Lord, lend a gracious ear

To my desire sincere,

From heart all free from guile,

And glad me with Thy smile,

Accept my petition.

Not wealth is my request,

That on the earth doth rest,

That shall at length decay,

With earth must pass away,

And can never save us.

The treasure I desire

Is Thine own grace, O Sire!

The grace that Thy dear Son,

Of saving grace the throne,

By His death hath purchas'd.

Thou pure and righteous art,

Unholy is my heart,

All dead in sin I live,

But sin dost Thou forgive,

Who art God most faithful.


And be Thy faithfulness

My trust and happiness;

Turn from my sin Thy face

With overflowing grace

My guiltiness cover.

Consider what we be—

A moment, where are we?

As brittle as frail glass,

As fading as the grass,

By a breath we're swept off.

If Thou wilt only view

The evil that we do,

So great our load of sin,

None e'er could stand within

Heaven's gate most holy.

How Jesus Christ for me

Himself hath giv'n, see!

What I to do have fail'd

His power hath avail'd,

His doing and dying.


Thou lov'st remorse and smart,

Behold, here is a heart

That knows and feels its sin,

And burns like fire within

With grief, pain, and sorrow.

I'm like a thirsty land

From which Thy gracious hand

Hath long withheld the rain,

Until we seek in vain

For strength, fruit, or moisture.

Like hart upon the heath,

That cries with gasping breath

For water fresh and clear,

I call into Thine ear,

Fount of living water!

My spirit, Lord, revive,

Rich consolation give;

Speak, that my soul may rest

Upon the friendly breast

Of Thy love eternal.


Give me a trustful mood,

That when the mighty flood

Of sin o'erwhelmeth me,

My grief absorb'd may be

In Thy mercy's ocean.

Drive off the wicked foe

That seeks my overthrow;

Thou art my Shepherd, I

Will be eternally

A sheep of Thy pasture.

As long as I shall dwell

On earth, to do Thy will

I give myself to Thee,

And evermore shall be

Thine own faithful servant.

Though feeble, I shall be

Still grateful unto Thee,

For in Thy might alone,

That worketh in Thine own,

All my power standeth.


Then send Thy Spirit down,

Who points out to Thine own

The way that pleaseth Thee;

They never mov'd shall be,

Who keep Him indwelling.

Thou shalt go on before,

Shalt open me the door

That leads to wisdom's way,

I'll follow every day,

Copying Thee ever.

And when at length 'tis giv'n

To tread the courts of heav'n,

With angel hosts to Thee

I'll sing eternally

To Thy praise and glory.

Prayer and the Christian Life.



O God! from Thee doth wisdom flow,

All I can do Thou well dost know;

If Thine own grace doth not sustain,

Then all my labour is in vain.

As shapen in iniquity,

No good by nature can I see;

My heart can never serve Thee right,

In folly it is sunken quite.

Yea, Saviour! I'm too mean and small

To treat Thy law and claims at all;

What for my neighbour's good may be,

Is hid from and unknown to me,

My life is very short and weak,

A thread, a passing wind may break;

The splendour that the world doth prize

Is vain and worthless in mine eyes.


If earth with all its gifts would dow'r,

And give me honour, fame, and pow'r,

And did I not enjoy Thy light,

Then were I nought, 'twere deepest night.

What use, though much we've learnèd here,

If first we do not learn Thy fear,

And ne'er to serve Thee right attain?

It is more loss to us than gain.

The knowledge men themselves attain

May easily mislead again;

And when our art hath done its best,

On all sides obstacles arrest.

How many ruin now the soul

Through craft, as did Ahithophel,

And come, through ignorance of Thee,

And through their wit, to misery.

O God, my Father! lend an ear,

My supplication deign to hear;

Far from me may such folly be;

A better mind, Lord! give to me.


Give me the Wisdom from above

Thou giv'st to all who truly love,

The wisdom that before Thy throne

For ever shineth in their crown.

I love her lovely face so bright,

She is my joy and heart's delight,

The fairest is that holdeth me,

Mine eyes she pleaseth wondrously.

She's noble, and of rarest worth,

From Thee, Most High! derives her birth;

She's like the Monarch of the day,

Rich gifts and virtues her array.

Her words are sweet and comfort well,

When grief our eyes with tears doth fill;

When 'neath affliction's rod we smart,

'Tis she revives the drooping heart.

She's full of grace and majesty,

Preserves us from mortality;

Who earnestly to get her strives,

E'en when he's dying, still he lives.


She's the Creator's counsellor,

In deeds and words excels in pow'r;

Through her the blind world knows and sees

What God in heav'n above decrees.

What mortal knows His Maker's mind?

Who is he that could ever find

The counsel out God hath decreed,

The way wherein He'd have us tread?

The soul upon the earth doth live,

Its heavy burdens sorely grieve,

The faculties distracted be,

From error here are not set free.

What God doth who can e'er explore,

And say what He rejoiceth o'er?

Unless Thou who dost ever live

Dost Thine own wisdom to us give.

Then send her from Thy heav'nly throne,

And give her to Thine handmaid's son;

Her bountifully, Lord! impart

To the poor dwelling of my heart.


Command her to abide with me,

And my companion aye to be;

Whene'er I labour, may she e'er

Me help my heavy load to bear.

May I be taught by her wise hand

To know and rightly understand

That I to Thee alone may cleave,

According to Thy will may live.

And give to me ability,

To truth may I still open be,

That sour of sweet I never make,

Nor darkness for the light may take.

To Thy word give desire and love,

And true to duty may I prove;

To pious souls join'd may I be,

Take counsel with them constantly.

And may I gladly every man,

By deed and counsel when I can,

To guide and succour ready be,

In truth and in sincerity.


So that in ev'rything I do,

In Thy love I may ever grow;

For who to wisdom doth not give

Himself, unlov'd by Thee must live.


My God! my works and all I do,

Rest only on Thy will, I know,

Thy blessing prospers ever,

When Thou dost guide, we persevere

In right ways, erring never.

It standeth not in human might

That man's devices issue right,

His way with gladness endeth:

God's counsel only prospers sure,

'Tis He success who sendeth.


Man often thinks in haughty mood

That this or that is for his good,

Yet widely he mistaketh;

He often thinketh that is ill

Whereof the Lord choice maketh.

But wise men e'en who joyfully

Begin a good work, frequently

Reach no good termination;

They build a castle firm and strong,

But sand is the foundation.

How many in their fancy stray

High over mountain peaks away,

Ere they bethink them ever;

Down to the ground they fall, and vain

Has been their strong endeavour.

Dear Father! therefore, who the crown

And sceptre bear'st on Heav'n's throne,

Who from the clouds dost lighten,

Regard my words, and hear my cry,

From Thy seat my soul brighten!


Vouchsafe to me the noble light

That from Thy countenance so bright

On pious souls aye breaketh,

And where the pow'r of wisdom true

Through Thine own pow'r awaketh.

Give understanding from on high,

That I henceforward may rely

Upon mine own will never.

Be Thou my counsel, that I may

Fulfil the good, Lord! ever.

Prove all things well, whate'er is good

Give to me, but what flesh and blood

Doth choose, withhold it ever.

The highest good, the fairest part,

Thy glory is and favour.

Sun of my soul! my chief delight!

Whate'er is pleasing in Thy sight,

Oh! may I choose and do it;

And what's displeasing unto Thee,

May I, O Lord! eschew it.


Is it from Thee? my work then bless;

Is it of man? withhold success,

And change what I'm resolving.

Dost Thou not work? 'twill come to nought,

In failure soon involving.

But should Thine and our enemy

Begin to rage revengefully

Against the good Thou'rt meaning,

My comfort is, Thou canst avert

His wrath, me ever screening.

Draw near, and let it easy be,

What seems impossible to me,

A happy issue give it;

What Thou Thyself didst undertake,

Thy wisdom did conceive it.

Though hard at first the work may be,

And I may through the deepest sea

Of bitter grief be passing,

Oh! may I only driven be

To sighs and pray'r unceasing.


Whoever prays and trusteth Thee,

With valiant heart shall victor be

O'er all that frightens ever,

In thousand pieces speedily

Grief's heavy stone shall shiver.

The way to good is almost wild,

With thorns and hedges is it fill'd;

Along this way who goeth

He by the Spirit's grace at last

What heav'nly joy is knoweth.

I am Thy child, my Father Thou!

Thou hast abundance to bestow,

Nought can I find within me;

Help, that I may maintain my ground,

As victor home, Lord! bring me.

Thine be the glory and the pow'r!

Thy mighty works I'll more and more

From heart with rapture swelling,

Before Thy folk and all the world,

All my life long be telling.



Twofold, Father! is my pray'r,

Twofold the desire I there

Lay before Thee, who dost give

What's good for us to receive;

Grant the pray'r that Thou dost know,

Ere my soul to Thee must go

From the body's bands below.

Grant that far from me may be

Lying and idolatry;

Poverty immoderate

Give me not, nor riches great;

Too great wealth or poverty

Is not good, for either may

'Neath the devil's pow'r us lay.

Give to me, my Saviour! give

Modest portion while I live;

Evermore supply my need,

Giving me my daily bread;

Little, with contented mood,

And a conscience pure and good,

Is the best can be bestow'd.


If my cup should overflow,

Proud in spirit I might grow,

Thee deny with scornful word,

Asking who is God and Lord?

For the heart with pride doth swell,

Often knows not when 'tis well,

How itself enough t' extol.

Should I bare and naked be,

Sunk in too deep poverty,

Faithless, I might wickedly

Steal my neighbour's property;

Force might use and artifice,

Follow lawless practices,

Never ask what Christian is.

God! my Treasure and my Light,

Neither course for me were right,

Either would dishonour Thee,

Sink me into hell's dark sea;

Therefore, give, Lord! graciously,

What Thy heart designs for me,

Moderate my portion be!



Creator, Father, Prince of might!

Who life to me art giving,

Unless Thou guid'st my life aright

In vain here am I living.

For while I'm living, I am dead,

To sin devoted ever;

Whose life in mire of sin is led,

The true life he hath never

Beheld one moment even.

Then turn on Thy poor child Thy face,

In darkness do not leave me;

That I may shun sin and disgrace,

Good counsel ever give me!

To keep my lips a guard, Lord, send,

May no word ever leave them

That e'er Thy people could offend

Let nought I say e'er grieve them,

Nor ever Thee dishonour!


Forbid, Father! that mine ear

Upon this earth so evil,

Against Thy name and pow'r should hear

The wicked rage and cavil.

Let not the poison and the gall

Of slanderers defile me;

If I such filth should touch at all

It surely would beguile me,

Might e'en quite overthrow me.

Lord, keep mine eyes, control their glance,

May they work evil never;

A bold and shameless countenance

Keep Thou far from me ever!

What's honest, keeps due boundaries,

What angels seek in heaven,

What is well-pleasing in Thine eyes,

For it by me be striven,

All luxury disdaining.

Oh! may I ne'er delighted be

By revelling and eating;

Be what Thou lov'st belov'd by me,

Though others shun it, hating.


The lusts wherein the flesh doth roll,

To hell will draw us ever;

The joys the world doth love, the soul

And spirit will deliver

To torment everlasting.

Oh! happy he who eats heav'n's bread,

And heav'nly water drinketh,

Who tastes nought else, nought else doth heed,

Nought else desires, and thinketh

Of that alone which strength can bring,

The life we'll live for ever

With God, and with the hosts who sing

His praise, in joy that never

Shall know an interruption.



Jesus! Thou, my dearest Brother,

Who dost well to me intend,

Thou mine Anchor, Mast, and Rudder,

And my truest Bosom-Friend.

To Thee, ere was earth or heaven,

Had the race of man been given;

Thou, e'en me, poor guest of earth,

Chosen hadst before my birth.

Thou art free from guile, Lord! ever

Innocent of all that's base;

But on this sad earth whenever

I in meditation gaze,

There I find deception living;

Who excelleth in deceiving,

Who the best dissemble can,

He's the best and wisest man.

Hollow and unfaithful ever

Is the friendship of the earth;

Seemeth she a man to favour?

'Tis but for the gold he's worth;


Are we prosp'rous, do we flourish?

She will smile on us, and nourish;

Doth misfortune o'er us low'r?

She forsakes us in that hour.

Drive away from me, and shield me

From such instability;

If I, Father, have defil'd me

(For I also human be)

With this mire, and did I ever

Falsehood love, oh! now deliver.

All my guilt I own to Thee,

Patience give, and grace to me!

May I ne'er be overtaken

By the evils Thou hast said

Come on those who've truth forsaken,

And with wares deceptive trade;

For Thou sayest Thou disownest,

As abomination shunnest,

Ev'ry hypocrite's false mood,

Who talks, but doth not the good.


May my heart be constant ever,

Faithful still to every friend;

When to grief Thou dost deliver

Them, and 'neath the cross they bend,

May I even then ne'er shun them,

But like unto Thee, Lord, own them,

Who, when we were poor and bare,

Tended'st us with fondest care.

After Thy will, Saviour, give me

One in whom I may confide,

Who will faithful counsel give me

When my heart is sorely tried;

To whom I may freely utter

All I feel, with nought to fetter,

In the measure I may need,

'Till my heart from care is freed.

Oh! let David's bliss betide me,

Give to me a Jonathan

Who will come and stand beside me

Like a rock, though every man


From my company should sever,

Who his heart will give me ever,

Who'll stand firm in every hour,

When sun shines or tempests low'r.

Out of all the men who're living,

Choose me a believing friend,

Who to Thee is firmly cleaving,

On Thine arm doth aye depend;

Who may by Thy will relieve me,

Help and comfort ever give me,

Help, from sympathizing heart,

Comfort, when I feel grief's smart.

When 'tis only the mouth loveth,

Then the love is ill bestow'd;

Whose love but to good words moveth

While he keeps a hateful mood,

Whom self-interest rules ever,

Who when honey falls, stays never,

But escapeth speedily,—

Ever far be such from me!


In my weakness and my sinning,

Move my friend to speak to me,

By his words of kindness winning,

Never as an enemy.

Who reproves in love and sadness

Is like him, in days of gladness,

Who pours balsam over me

That by Jordan floweth free.

Riches great were I possessing,

Priceless were my property;

Jesus! did Thy hand such blessing

Graciously bestow on me,

Were such friend, Lord! ever near me,

By His constancy to cheer me;

Who doth honour Thee, and fear

He hath such a treasure near.

Good friends like to staves are ever,

Whereon men lean as they go,

That the weak one can deliver,

When he slides and lieth low:


Sad his case who such ne'er knoweth,

Who through life all friendless goeth,

Weary is his lonely way,

When he falls, to help who stay?

Gracious Saviour! let it please Thee,

Be my Friend in every hour,

Be my Friend, till death release me,

Be my faithful Staff of pow'r!

When Thou to Thyself wilt bind me,

Then a heart Thou soon wilt find me,

By Thy Holy Spirit fir'd

With good thoughts to me inspir'd.


O God, my Father! thanks to Thee

I bring with deep humility,

That Thou Thine anger endest,

And that Thy Son,

Our Joy and Crown,

Into the world Thou sendest.


He hath appear'd, His precious blood

Hath pourèd forth in such a flood,

That all our sins it washes.

Who to Him cleaves,

He soon relieves

Of burdens, and refreshes.

I come, Lord! as the best I may,

Take me into the band, I pray,

Of those who are forgiven,

Who through this blood

Are just and good,

And shall be bless'd in heaven.

Oh! let mine eye and hand of faith

This noble pledge keep without scath,

Away from me ne'er casting;

And let this light

Lead me aright,

To the light everlasting.

The mansion of my soul prepare,

Cast out whate'er is evil there,


And build in me Thy dwelling:

Thy grace so free

Reveal to me,

My soul with Thy love filling.

All things are mine when I have Thee,

Thou void of gifts canst never be;

A thousand ways Thou knowest

On earth to keep

Thy feeble sheep;

Enough Thou aye bestowest.

Grant that I in my station here

Thee in Thy word may ever fear,

So guide what things concern me,

That found in me

True faith may be,

And may with truth adorn me.

And give me a contented mind,

For when with godliness combin'd,

Great gain thence ever floweth.

Then what of good

It pleaseth God

To give, great peace bestoweth.


The little that by God's great grace

The righteous as his portion has,

To honour more commendeth,

Than all the gold

The world doth hold,

And with proud spirit spendeth.

The faithful, Lord, to Thee are known,

Thou art their Joy, and they Thine own,

To shame thou putt'st them never;

Comes scarcity,

Their bread from Thee

They find in all lands ever.

God loveth him who fears and cleaves

To Him, sees that no mischance grieves,

In his ways joyeth ever;

And if he slide,

God doth abide,

Doth bless him and deliver.

God's eye is upon all who wait

And hope in Him both soon and late,


In all need to deliver,

E'en in the hour

When to devour

Death threatens them for ever.

Lord, Thou canst only gracious be,

Thou givest all to know and see

Thy goodness and Thy favour,

Who with their mouth

And heart in truth

Own Thee their only Saviour.

Make Her[9] Thy care especially,

Whom Thou as monarch hast rais'd high

This land and nation over;

With rest and peace

The land, Lord! bless,

The throne with blessings cover.

Preserve, Lord! our dear native land

In Thine embrace and mighty hand;


Protect us all together

From error's voice,

From enemies,

From fire and plague deliver.

All whom I love, keep every day,

Let all the hosts of hell away

From young and old be driven!

Here, may we be

In time by Thee

Preserv'd, and there in heaven!

[9]For obvious reasons the original has been slightly altered. The German is,

Insonderheit nimm wohl in acht

Den Fürsten, &c.


O Jesus Christ! my fairest Light,

Who in Thy soul dost love me,

I ne'er can tell it, nor its height

Mete, 'tis so high above me,

Grant that my heart may warm to Thee,

With ardent love ne'er ceasing,

Thee embracing,

And as Thy property,

Cleave to Thee, ever gazing.


Grant that an idol in me may

Dwell e'en a moment never,

Grant me to make Thy love, I pray,

My crown and prize for ever!

Cast all things out, take all away,

That Thee and me would sever,

So that ever

By Thy love, my pow'rs may

Be kindled, and cool never!

How friendly, blessèd, sweet, and fair

Is Thy love, Jesus ever!

While this remains, distress and care

Can grieve my spirit never.

Then let me only think of Thee,

Be seeing, hearing, feeling,

Loving, telling

Of Thee, and Thy great love to me

Oh! be Thou more revealing!

Oh! that this greatest, highest good,

I might for aye be tasting!

Oh! that in me this noble blood

Might glow to everlasting!


Help me to watch, Lord! day and night,

This blessèd treasure shielding

From unyielding

Foes, who 'gainst us the might

Of Satan's realm are wielding!

My Saviour! Thou in love to me

Hast down to death descended,

And like a murd'rer on the tree

And thief hast been suspended,

Spit on, despis'd and wounded sore,

The wounds which Thee have riven,

May it even

To me at the heart's core

With love to feel be given.

The blood that hath been shed by Thee

Is good and precious ever,

My heart is wicked desp'rately,

Hard as a millstone nether.


Ah! let the virtue of Thy blood

My flinty heart be bending,

Entrance finding;

And may Thy love, life's flood

Through all my veins be sending.

Oh! were my heart op'd to receive

The blood-drops that were falling

From Thee, wrung by my sin that eve

In agony appalling!

Oh! that the fountains of mine eyes

Were op'd, and with much sighing,

And sore crying,

Gush'd forth, as tears and sighs

Of men in love who're dying.

Oh! that I as a little child

With weeping eyes might trace Thee,

E'en till Thy heart with love was fill'd

And Thine arms did embrace me.


And until Thou Thy heart to me

With sweet love flowing over,

Should'st discover,

And we united be,

Thy goodness for my cover.

Ah! draw me, Saviour! after Thee,

And so shall I be hasting,

I run, and in my heart shall be

Thy love with rapture tasting;

The gracious words from Thee I'll hear

Sweet comfort shall give ever;

Me deliver

From sin, and every fear,

These shall o'ercome me never.

My Comfort, Treasure, Health, and Light,

My Life and Saviour tender!

Ah! take me for Thy portion quite

As I myself surrender!


There's nought but pain apart from Thee,

I nought but gall discover,

Earth all over,

Nought ever comforts me,

No balm can me recover.

But Thou the Rest most blessed art,

In Thee are joys eternal.

Grant, Jesus! grant that my poor heart

Feed in Thy pastures vernal!

Be Thou the flame that burns in me,

My Balsam, ease that giveth,

And relieveth

Pain that here constantly

Makes me heave sighs, and grieveth.

Ah! fairest one, what faileth me

In Thy great love, of blessing?

It is my sun that lightens me,

My well-spring, me refreshing!


My sweetest wine, my heav'nly bread,

My cov'ring when before Thee,

And my glory,

My shield in hour of need,

My house that riseth o'er me!

Ah! dearest love, why was I born,

If Thou my soul forsakest?

If Thou withdraw'st, I'm all forlorn,

All good from me Thou takest.

O may I seek Thee as my guest,

With all my best endeavour

Keep Thee ever;

And when I Thee arrest,

Let Thee go from me never.

I've been belov'd by Thee for aye,

To follow Thou did'st move me;

Before I good could e'er essay,

E'en then did Thy heart love me:


Ah! noble Rock! Thy love below

May it for ever guide me,

And beside me

Be it where'er I go,

To aid whate'er betide me.

And may Thy love adorn my place,

Where'er my lot Thou'rt casting;

And if I wander from Thy ways,

To bring me back be hasting.

And let me ever counsel wise,

Good works from Thee be learning,

From sin turning,

And when from falls I rise,

Come back to Thee with yearning!

And ever be my joy in woe,

When weak, with Thy strength stay me;

And when my course is run below,

I down to rest will lay me.


Then may Thy love and truth with me,

O Christ! abide for ever,

Leave me never,

Till I Thy glory see,

Oh! may they waft me thither!


Bless'd is he who never taketh

Counsel of ungodly men!

Bless'd, the right who ne'er forsaketh,

Nor in sinners' paths is seen,

Who the scorners' friendship spurns,

From their seats away who turns,

Who delight in God's word taketh,

This his meditation maketh.

Bless'd is he who pleasure taketh

In God's laws' most perfect way,

It is his lov'd resort who maketh

Where he lingers night and day!


Oh! His blessing blooms and grows,

As the palm where water flows,

And abroad its branches spreadeth,

And the wayworn pilgrim shadeth.

He will truly ever flourish

Who God's word delights to do,

Air and earth alike will nourish

Him, till ripe his fruit shall grow.

Though his leaf grow old, yet he

Ever fresh and green shall be,

God success to his endeavour

Giveth, and it prospers ever.

But he who in sin's ways goeth

Is like chaff the wind before,

When it riseth up and bloweth,

And we find it here no more.

Where the Lord His people guide,

There the godless ne'er abide,

God the faithful loves and guideth,

On the wicked wrath abideth.



Bless'd is he the Lord who loveth,

At His word doth tremble aye!

Bless'd whose heart him freely moveth

God's commandments to obey.

Who the Highest loves and fears,

Findeth increase with the years

Of all that to him is given

By the bounteous hand of Heaven.

His dear children shall stand ever

Like to roses in their blow;

Flowing with God's goodness over,

On his generations go.

What the body needs below

God who rules all will bestow,

He will bounteously relieve them,

Plenty in their dwellings give them.

The right deeds of the believer

Nought can shake, they stand secure;

If a storm o'ertakes him ever,

Still doth God, his Light endure,


Comforts, shieldeth with His pow'r,

So that after darkness' hour,

After night of tears and sorrow,

Joy and sunshine glad the morrow.

God's compassion, grace, and favour

For the faithful still endure.

Blessèd are the souls who ever

Think upon the needy poor,

Love them, seek to do them good;

For the ever-living God

In His arms of grace will bear them,

And a home above prepare them.

When the black clouds o'er them lighten,

And the pealing thunders shock,

They shall sit, and nought shall frighten,

Like the dove hid in the rock;

They'll remain eternally,

And their memory shall be

Upon every side extending,

As their branches trees are sending.


When misfortunes overtake them,

Whereby sinners low are laid,

Firm their courage, nought can shake them,

And their hearts are undismay'd;

Undismay'd, from care are free,

Hearts that unreservedly

To the Lord their God are given,

Love Him when forsaken even.

Who delight take in relieving

Sad ones, to the Lord are dear;

What the loving hands are giving,

God will recompense e'en here.

Who much giveth much will gain,

He shall not desire in vain,

What his heart desires and willeth,

God in His good time fulfilleth.

But the foes who triumph'd o'er them,

They shall see depart beneath;

Satan who such malice bore them,

Evermore shall gnash his teeth:


Sorely will it him displease

When their blessedness he sees,

Yet that he can rob them never,

Only waste himself for ever.


Lord! to Thee alone I raise

Evermore mine eager eyes,

Upturn'd is my constant gaze

To the hills that pierce the skies:

To the hills whence flow to me

Help and saving health from Thee!

All my succour comes to me

From my great Creator's hand,

Who hath deck'd so beauteously

Earth and sky, air, sea, and land,

And with ev'ry good supplied,

That our needs be satisfied.


Lest thy feet, my soul! should stray

From the narrow path of right,

He is with thee in the way,

And preserves thee day and night.

Trust Him! and the hosts of hell

Never more shall work thee ill.

Sleepless vigils doth He keep

When thou liest down to rest;

When thou'rt sunk in slumbers deep,

To thy side at His behest

Angel hosts then wing their flight,

Thee to guard through all the night.

All thou hast and all thou art

Is encircled by His love;

Ev'ry grief that wrings thy heart

Doth He graciously remove.

Soul and body shieldeth He,

When dark tempests threaten thee.

When the noonday's burning sun

All thy body's strength doth blight,

When the midnight stars and moon

Dazzle with their brilliant light,


Then His hand of mighty pow'r,

Shades thee in the trying hour.

May He still protection yield,

Faithful Shepherd be, and near

Still remain thy rock and shield,

When thy heart's oppress'd with fear.

When of need thou feel'st the smart,

May He press thee to His heart.

Dost thou sit or rise again,

Dost thou speak or dost thou hear,

Still at home dost thou remain,

Art abroad when none is near,

Dost thou wander in or out?

He will compass thee about.


Lord, Thou my heart dost search and try,

And what is hidden from mine eye

Thou seest, all I am and own

To Thine omniscient mind is known.

Whene'r I sit, lie down, or stand,

Or walk, or run, on ev'ry hand

Thy presence doth encompass me,

At all times I am hard by Thee.

And all the thoughts that stir my heart,

That lurk in its most secret part,

Thy searching eye doth scrutinize

Ere they to consciousness arise.

And never from my tongue a word

Escapes, by Thee, O Lord, unheard;

Thou order'st all I speak or do,

And guidest me life's journey through.


'Tis true, I know, but must remain

A knowledge I can ne'er attain,

A mystery beyond the ken

Of feeble and short-sighted men.

Where shall I from Thy Spirit fly,

Escape from Thine omniscient eye?

Where shall I from Thy presence hide,

And where remote from Thee abide?

If I ascend the utmost height

Of heav'n, there art Thou, thron'd in light;

Or should I down to hell repair

And make my bed, I'd find Thee there.

Should I on morning's pinions ride,

As far as ocean's empire wide

Of stormy waves breaks on the land,

I'd be upheld by Thy right hand.

Or if the help of night I sought,

No change by darkness would be wrought,

For let the night be as it may,

With Thee is ever cloudless day.


'Mid darkest shadows Thou canst see,

The darkness is a light to Thee,

Thy glance is ever clear and bright,

From sun and moon Thou need'st no light.

My reins Thou ever hast possess'd,

For in Thy hand they ever rest,

From infancy Thou hast me led,

With daily blessings crown'd my head.

Thou hast, who'rt greatly to be fear'd,

My frame with cunning hand uprear'd;

Thy works, Thy wondrous pow'r forth tell,

And that my soul doth know right well.

My substance was not hid from Thee,

When I in secret curiously

Was fashion'd in the depths of earth,

From whence Thy pow'r hath brought me forth.

Before my time, my times for me

Determin'd were by Thy decree,

The tale of years and days I'd see,

Hours, moments, all were fix'd by Thee.


My God, how precious, sweet, and fair,

I see array'd before me there

The thoughts of wisdom of Thy heart,

In all Thy bounty doth impart.

The sum of these so high doth mount,

That when their number I would count,

I find them infinitely more

Than dust or sand, on field or shore.

How doth the bold blaspheming band

Thee vilify on every hand,

O God of wonders! and Thy name

Despise and treat with open shame.

Their scornful mouths, Lord, close and seal,

Against them speedily reveal

Thy wrath! against Thy foes arise,

Thy foes are hateful in mine eyes.

Though in return, their hatred sore

Against Thee burn, I do no more

Amid the rage of angry foes,

Than 'neath Thy shelt'ring wings repose.


Lord, search and know my heart and mood,

See if my way be right and good,

The everlasting joyful road

Lead me that brings me home to God.


Songs of the Cross and Consolation.


Full often as I meditate

Upon the world's disorder'd state,

I ask myself if earthly life

Be good, and worthy of the strife,

Has he not acted for the best

Who laid himself betimes to rest?

Reflect, my friend, say, if you know

What station is there here below

Without its fall and daily share

Of sorrow, pain, and anxious care?

And tell me if a place there be

From sorrow, tears, vexation free.

And doth not every passing day,

From youth to manhood, bear away


Its own peculiar load of grief

Upon its back, and such relief

As transient joy may seem to bring,

Is it not full of suffering?

If times be good, and fortune smile,

My God! how envy storms the while;

If dignity and honours great

Attend thy steps, alas! their weight.

If others thou'rt preferr'd before,

Than others too thou'rt burden'd more.

Art thou to-day in joyous mood,

Rejoicing in thy share of good?

Lo! ere thou think'st, thy gains are gone,

Thy joyous mood with them is flown,

The hurricane so suddenly

Doth sweep away thy property.

Dost from the world withdraw thyself,

And lov'st God more than gold or pelf?

Thy crown, thy jewel, thy good name

Is cover'd by the world with shame.

For he who can't dissembler play,

The world as fool will spurn away.


'Tis true, alas! that trouble waits

In daily watch before our gates;

On earth the cross is borne by all,

All feel its weight, and taste its gall;

But shall we therefore cast away

The Christian's light? I tell thee—nay.

The saints, who to their Saviour cleave,

In faith and in the Spirit live,

Unhurt by any ill or woe

Pass through their pilgrimage below;

Though things may sometimes fall out ill

Yet with them it is ever well.

Though they no gold have stor'd away,

They've God, and care not what men say,

Reject with joy, and aye despise

The world's vain pomp and vanities;

Their honour is to hope and wait,

From God alone comes all their state.

The Christian, God as Father knows,

Can in His faithfulness repose;


Whatever trial God may send,

Can't separate him from his friend;

The more He smites, he loves the more,

Remaineth true, though chasten'd sore.

He only plays a hero's part

Who cherishes within his heart

The Saviour's love; whate'er betide,

Firm as a rock shall he abide

When heav'n and earth shall pass away;

Though men forsake, God's word's his stay.

The word of God beguiles our fears,

And turns to smiles our bitter tears;

It robs misfortune of the pow'r

Of hurting in the evil hour;

It brings the sadden'd heart relief,

When bow'd beneath the load of grief.

Now cease, I pray, your tale of woe:

Though full of grief this life below,

Still falleth to the Christian's share

Salvation and God's guardian care;

Who loves the Saviour, trusts in God,

Remains unmov'd beneath the rod.


As gold into the fire is cast,

And comes forth purified at last,

So saints supported by God's grace

Uninjur'd through affliction pass;

A child his father's child is still,

Although his father's rod he feel.

Dear heart, chase all thy fears away,

On thy God's faithfulness now stay,

Though smiting with His chast'ning rod,

He means it well, 'tis for thy good;

Confide in Him, His guiding hand

Will bring thee to the better land.

Live on according to His will,

Although the way be rough, be still!

In heav'n Thou hast a mansion fair,

Where joy will banish every care;

If here we to the Saviour cleave,

With Jesu's angels shall we live.



Thou art but man, to thee 'tis known,

Why dost thou then endeavour

To do what God should do alone,

Or can accomplish ever?

A thousand griefs thou goest through,

In spite of all thy wit can do;

Upon thine end thou pond'rest,

What it will be thou wond'rest.

'Tis all in vain, in vain thy care,

With all thy musings earnest,

In all thy life a single hair

Thou white or black ne'er turnest.

The griefs by which thou'rt sore distress'd

Can only serve to mar thy rest,

Cause anguish unavailing,

Thy life itself curtailing.

Wilt thou do what is for thy good,

And what thy God good seeth?

Then cast on Him each heavy load,

'Fore whom earth and heav'n fleeth.


Thy life and labour, all that's thine,

With joy into God's hand resign;

A happy end He'll ever

Give thee, and thee deliver.

Who car'd for thee ere light of day

Had dawn'd upon thy vision,

While in the womb thy soul still lay

As in a gloomy prison?

Who thought upon thy welfare then?

What good did all the might of men

Do, when to thee were given

Life, mind, and pow'r from heaven?

Whose skill was it that fashion'd thee?

And who thy frame uprearèd?

To glad our eyes, by whose decree,

Say, hath the light appearèd?

Who hath thy veins in order laid,

For each a course convenient made?

Who hath thy frame replenish'd

With members fair and finish'd?


Where were thy mind and will and heart

When land and ocean over,

Yea, even earth's remotest part,

The sky was spread to cover?

Who made the sun and moon to shine,

Who gave herbs, trees, and beasts as thine,

Who bid them satisfy thee,

And no desire deny thee?

Lift up thy head, see everywhere,

Above, around, below thee,

How God in all for thee His care,

And at all times, doth show thee!

Thy meat and drink, the clothes dost wear,

Did God, ere need thou felt'st, prepare.

God, ere thou wast, prepar'd thee

Thy mother's milk, that rear'd thee.

The raiment that in infancy

Thy nakedness did cover,

The cradle that receivèd thee,

The roof thy young head over,


Were all in love prepar'd for thee,

Ere yet thine eye was op'd to see

The wonders that abounded,

The world that thee surrounded.

Yet wilt thou walk by thine own light

Thy life long, only heeding,

Believing nothing but thy sight,

Go whither it is leading.

In all that thou dost undertake,

Thy heart thy counsellor dost make,

Unless by it selected,

Is ev'ry plan rejected.

Behold! how oft and openly

God's providence undoeth

The plans thy hand so ardently

And hopefully pursueth.

But it doth happen frequently,

That e'en the very things we see

The wisest men could never

Predict, or think of ever.


How oft thy stiff-neck'd self-will hath

To bitter need reduc'd thee!

When heart and mind deluded, death

To take for life, seduc'd thee!

And had the Lord thy work and deed

Along the path allow'd proceed

That thou thyself had'st taken,

Lost wert thou and forsaken.

He who to us love endless feels,

When self-involv'd, then frees us,

Ev'n self-inflicted wounds He heals,

Guides when astray He sees us.

Paternal kindness, tender love,

To these His heart doth ever move,

This love poor sinners beareth,

For whom as sons He careth.

Ah! silence doth He often keep,

But still the while He blesses,

E'en though we tears of anguish weep,

Though grief the heart depresses,


Although our eager eyes we strain,

And seek for light, but seek in vain,

And seek deliv'rance ever

From woe, but find it never.

But God our Lord still onward straight

His path pursueth ever,

And brings us to heav'n's peaceful gate,

Where storms assail us never.

What dark was and mysterious here

In all God's ways, shall be then clear,

His wisdom we'll discover

When our life-work is over.

Then peace, be still, my troubled breast!

And let no grief distress thee,

God ever plans for thee the best,

His heart is set to bless thee.

Thy cause the Saviour ne'er can leave,

In this assuredly believe,

Tow'rd us He ever yearneth,

His ardent love aye burneth.


With grace and truth His loving heart

For evermore is glowing,

And keenly feeleth He the smart,

When from our eyes are flowing

Hot tears, caus'd by vain sorrow's load,

As if in wrath and hate our God

Could ever helpless leave us,

Would never comfort give us!

The evil thought, ah! put away,

No more may it deceive thee,

Although what happ'neth, seldom may

Increase of pleasure give thee.

But that will happen certainly

Which God thy Father doth decree;

From what He wills to send thee,

No mortal can defend thee.

Then to thy Father's arms of love

In confidence betake thee,

Pray on till His compassion move,

His special care He make thee!


Then by His Spirit will He guide,

Through unknown paths still at thy side,

From all thy woe and striving

At last deliv'rance giving.


O my soul, why dost thou grieve,

Why dost mourn so bitterly,

That more freely God doth give

Gifts to others than to thee?

In thy God delight thy heart,

He's the good enduring part.

Of the human race have none

In this world to be a right,

All, yea each created one,

But a guest is for a night.

God in His house Lord is still,

Gifts divideth as He will.


Know, thou art not therefore here,

That thou should'st possess the earth;

Look thou up to heav'n so clear,

There's thy gold of priceless worth,

There is honour, there is joy,

Without envy or alloy!

Great the folly his who grieves

For a little vanity,

When God to him freely gives

Treasures of eternity.

Is the handredweight thy gain?

Thou canst then despise the grain.

All thy fair possessions see,

That are valued by thy heart,

None of them can go with thee

When from earth thou must depart.

Thou must leave them here below,

When death's door thou passest through.

The soul's nourishment, God's grace,

And the Saviour's precious blood,

Ne'er through time in worth decrease,

But remain for ever good.


Earthly goods must pass away,

Soul-goods never can decay.

Still art thou so blind, alas!

Thinking—but all erringly,

Eyes hast thou, but in the glass

Of the word thou dost not see.

Child of man! fix there thine eyes,

For it is a peerless prize.

Count thy fingers every one,

And thine other members o'er,

They are precious, they're thine own,

Lov'd by thee than treasure more,

Gold could never from thee buy

E'en the least, though men should try.

Search and ask thine inmost heart,

'Twill instruct thee what of good

Daily falleth to thy part,

By God's bounteous hand bestow'd;

Than the sand upon the shore

More, and yet desir'st thou more!


Did thy Heav'nly Father see

That it would be for thy good,

What desires so eagerly

Thy misguided flesh and blood,

He would ne'er thee joyless leave,

But would of His bounty give.

God to thee is full of love,

Faithful and sincere is He,

When thou wishest aught, He'd prove

Of what kind thy wish may be:

If 'tis good, He will bestow,

If 'tis ill, He'll answer—no.

Meanwhile doth His Spirit give

Manna to thy fainting heart,

Food by which the angels live,

Grace to deck thee doth impart,

For His portion chooseth thee,

Thou shalt share salvation free.

Look then to thy God above,

Sad and troubled countenance!

Cease to sigh, faith's virtue prove,

By thy clear and joyous glance!


While thy sky is overcast

By affliction, hold it fast!

And as Heav'n's adopted son,

Thy rebellious will restrain;

Touch thy harp, let 'fore God's throne

Grateful songs resound again.

More at all times doth God give

Than thou'rt worthy to receive.

Live thou ever in God's fear,

As thou journeyest to heav'n,

Take whate'er befalls thee here

As a gift in wisdom giv'n.

Are they evil days, thou'lt see

God and Heav'n endure for thee.



Ah! lovely innocence, how evil art thou deem'd,

How lightly oft thy work by all the world's esteem'd!

Thou servest God, thy Lord, and to His word thou cleavest;

For this, from men thou nought but scorn and hate receivest.

Right on thy road thou go'st, flee'st from the crooked way;

Another steppeth in and bears the prize away,

Increaseth his small store, his chests and barns he filleth;

Thou'rt poor with all thy house, scarce earn'st what hunger stilleth.

The wicked one thou chid'st, who walks not righteously,

Another practiseth a sweet hypocrisy


That love and praise secures, and him on high upraises,

While in the lurch the world thee leaves, and much abases.

Thou say'st that virtue is the Christian's fairest crown,

But reputation doth the world lay stress upon;

He who will this secure, it saith, must ever labour

To suit the times, and live and act just like his neighbour.

Thou boast'st thyself in God, thy tongue doth aye commend

The blessing God doth as His children's portion send:

“If this be then the case,” the world says, “come and show it,

The happy fortune thou hast had, we'd see and know it.”

Stand firm, thou pious heart, stand firm, thy faith retain!

'Mid disappointment sore thy God will true remain,

Commit thy ways to Him, let Him protect and guide thee,

Thou'lt triumph at the last o'er evils that betide thee.


Dost fail to please thy kind?—It is a sad disgrace!

Enough, if on thee smile thy heav'nly Father's face.

The worst that man can do is to betray and leave thee;

But God is righteous, and His judgment can't deceive thee.

Doth He say, “Thou art Mine, thy way doth please Me well?”

Then be thy heart consol'd, let joy thy bosom swell,

Cast to the wind the lies by wicked men indited,

Be still, and thou shalt see, by God shall all be righted.

Pride, arrogance, and pomp are ne'er enduring found,

Like brightest glass they fall, and break upon the ground;

So when the luck of men has mounted up to heaven,

It soon comes crashing down, and on the earth lies riven.

And all ill-gotten wealth, when right our estimate,

Is on the heart and mind a dead oppressive weight


That burdens evermore, with pain the conscience wringeth,

Its quiet rest disturbs, and into trouble bringeth.

And what have many more than of the poor the sweat?

What do they eat and drink, and what gain do they get?

They rob the widows' store, spite of their tears them wronging,

Who like a thirsty land for sympathy are longing.

Is this felicity? is this magnificence?

Oh! what a sentence dire will God the Judge pronounce

Upon the day of doom, when from His throne so loudly

It sounds, how shall they seem who strut and boast so proudly!

But thou who now thy God dost honour with whole heart,

And never from His ways dost let thy feet depart,

Shalt in the goodly throng, whom God with manna feedeth,

With praise and honour clad, walk with Him where he leadeth.


In patience, then, possess thy soul a little while,

Do right, and persevere and live all free from guile,

Act that the fairest prize in yonder life be given

Thee, from His gracious hand who rules in earth and heaven.

Whate'er on earth betide, from care remain all free,

'Twill fall out for thy good, as God the best may see;

Rest thou assur'd, He will no wish of thine deny thee,

With joy fulfil thy will, with every good supply thee.



I have deserv'd it, cease t' oppose

The Lord's will, shall I never?

Thou bitter cup, thou heavy cross,

Come hither to me ever!

From pain all free

May never be

He 'gainst the Lord who fighteth,

As I each day,

Who trod the way

Wherein the world delighteth.

I'll bear the chastisement of God,

A patient soul possessing,

For born in sin, sin's path I trod,

Aye ventur'd on transgressing,

That pleasures vain

I might attain,

In wantonness time wasting,

The gracious word

Of God the Lord,

As I ought, never tasting.


The road of God's commandments good

I often have forsaken,

And on the way that leads from God

Am therefore overtaken

By grief and smart,

That pierce my heart;

God's hand thus am I feeling,

Who 'fore His throne

To each his own

Awards, in justice dealing.

For just and true is God above,

We fail His goodness telling,

A mother's truth, a father's love

Alike in him are dwelling.

God's wrath, I ween,

As oft hath been

Ours, is not unrelenting.

Men steel their heart,

Refuse t' impart

Grace e'en to the repenting.


In sooth 'tis not the mind of God,

His anger ever endeth,

Return we, He removes the rod,

And to the weary sendeth

A sweet release,

To mark doth cease,

And visit our transgressing;

His wrath He turns,

And tow'rd us yearns,

Gives after cursing blessing.

And so the Lord will deal with me,

And every one behold it,

And vindicate the right will He,

My cause, He will uphold it.

Thy face so bright,

Lord! to the light,

From deepest pit will raise me,

That ever I

May heartily

Thy truth exalt, and praise Thee.


Rejoice not o'er me, then, my foes,

I lie not here for ever,

My God will come ere ye suppose,

And speedily deliver.

His holy hand

Will make me stand,

Firm and secure for ever;

Good times to me

And joy will He

Give after stormy weather.

I am in need, yet scarce can speak

Of real need and sorrow;

When God my Light is, day must break

And bring a glorious morrow,

E'en in the night,

While yet the might

Of darkness much increaseth,

And when this Light

Dawns on my sight,

Whate'er oppresses ceaseth.


The time will come, e'en now 'tis near,

When I shall sing salvation,

When he who lov'd to mock and jeer

At me in tribulation,

And bid me tell

Where God doth dwell,

Shall from God's face be driven

With head cast down;

To me a crown

Of honour shall be given!


Ah! faithful God, compass'nate heart,

Whose goodness never endeth,

I know this bitter cross and smart

Thy hand it is that sendeth!

Yea, Lord, I know this burden great

Thou sendest not in wrath and hate,

But 'tis in love appointed.


That ever is Thy way all-wise,

Thy child in woe must languish,

Thou whom Thou lovest, dost chastise,

'Fore joy Thou sendest anguish,

Sink'st us to hell, in woe we lie,

And raisest us again on high,

Thus with us fares it always.

Thou ever leadest wondrously

Thy children dear who please Thee!

Would I have life? Then first must I

E'en down to death abase me.

In honour who'd be raised on high,

He self-abas'd on earth must lie

As worthless dust and ashes.

On earth, Lord, Thy belovèd Son

Such sorrow had to try Him;

Ere He could reach His glorious throne

Ill men must crucify Him.

He pass'd through trouble, need, and woe,

Nor shrunk He from death's cruel blow,

To reach the joys of heaven.


Did then Thy good and holy Son

Himself for us deliver,

And I enslavèd, sinful one,

Shall I resist Thee ever?

Of patience aye the glass is He,

And who His face desires to see

Must in His footsteps follow.

How is it reason finds it hard,

The truth so oft rejecteth,

That Thou with favour dost regard

E'en while Thy hand afflicteth?

How long doth oft the cross remain,

How hardly can we love and pain

Then reconcile together.

God of the Church! when fails my pow'r,

Strength graciously then give me;

And grant that nought in trial's hour

Of faith may e'er deprive me.

Uphold me by Thy might, O Lord,

Establish me then in Thy word,

From murmuring deliver!


When I am weak, be Thou my stay,

In faithfulness be near me,

That I continually may pray,

And call on Thee to hear me.

While yet a heart hopes and believes,

And still in pray'r unceasing lives,

Bold is it, and unvanquish'd.

In measure, Lord, apply the rod,

Lest I sink altogether;

Thou know'st how I can bear the load,

How life's imperill'd ever,

For neither steel nor stone am I,

But sooner pass away and die,

E'en than a fleeting vapour.

Ah! Jesus, who did'st stoop so low,

Thy blood shed, life that giveth,

The bitter cross full well dost know,

And how the spirit grieveth

When cross and heavy woe combine,

So wilt Thou hear each cry of mine,

When bitterly complaining.


I know Thou feelest sympathy

When want and woe distress me,

That Thou with help wilt visit me,

And graciously wilt bless me.

Ah! strengthen Thou my feeble hand,

And lead my feet where I may stand

In safety—Come and save me!

Speak courage to my fainting heart,

With comfort, Lord, support me.

Of weary souls the Rest Thou art,

My Tow'r, where none can hurt me!

My Rock, where from the sun I hide,

My Tent, where safely I abide

When storms without are raging!

And as in love, while here I dwell,

Thou suff'ring hast decreed me,

Thy grace vouchsafe Thy child, Lord, still,

In Thy green pastures lead me;

That I in faith may patience gain,

Through patience rich reward attain,

When I've endur'd the trial.


Oh! Holy Ghost, of joy the Oil,

Whom God from Heaven giveth,

Refresh me, pour into my soul

What heart and flesh reviveth.

Of glory, Thou the Spirit art,

Know'st what in heav'n shall be my part

Of grace, joy, consolation!

How fair 'twill be, ah! let me gaze

Upon the life so glorious,

That Thou wilt give to those who pass

Through trials sore, victorious.

The earth with all its treasures fair

Can never with this life compare,

They pale and fade before it.

Thou'lt deal with me so graciously,

I'll endless joy be tasting,

For trials known to Thee and me

Have glory everlasting.

Thou'lt wipe the tear-drop from mine eyes,

To exultation turn my sighs,

Lord! I believe it. Amen!



Father of mercies! God most high,

Deign graciously to hear me,

Thou say'st, “Knock at my door and cry,

In time of need draw near me.

As urgently

Thou long'st, to thee

I'll come to help and raise thee,

That with thy mouth,

In very truth,

Thou joyfully may'st praise me.”

Commit to God, both morn and night,

Thy ways, and doings ever;

He knoweth how to guide thee right,

And always will deliver.

To Him reveal

Whate'er dost feel

Thy heart to sorrow moveth;

He is Thy Lord,

Knows how to guard

And shield thee whom He loveth.


For His belovèd child will care

The faithful loving Father;

Who righteous and believing are,

He to His rest will gather.

Then, people dear,

Hope ever here

On Him who aye relieves you;

His throne before

Your hearts outpour,

Tell Him whatever grieves you!

Ah! God our Shield! Thy word how sweet

It sounds to Thine afflicted:

“I'll come to thee with succour meet,

When thy heart is dejected.

He loveth me,

So lov'd shall be,

Secure for aye I'll make him,

From care all free

Shall sit by me,

I'll to my bosom take him.”


The Lord to them is ever nigh

Who trustfully draw near Him,

He's at their side whene'er they cry,

Helps them o'ercome, who fear Him.

In misery

Who low do lie,

He raiseth and relieveth,

And joy imparts

To fainting hearts,

Them pow'r and might he giveth.

“In truth, who my great name doth fear,”

Saith Christ, “and firm believeth,

God doth regard his pray'r sincere,

His heart's wish freely giveth.”

Then one and all

Draw near and call,

Who asketh, he obtaineth;

Who seeketh there,

The fruit so fair

With great advantage gaineth.


Hear what yon unjust judge doth say:

“This widow's supplication

I must regard, lest day by day

Her coming cause vexation.”

His people's cry

Shall God deny,

Who day and night are praying?

It cannot be,

He'll set them free

From woe, not long delaying.

For when the just shed tears through care,

God soon with joy relieveth,

To those who broken-hearted are,

Again He laughter giveth.

He'll suffer woe

Who will below

'Mid men be godly living;

But at his side

Will God abide,

Him grace sufficient giving.


“A moment I've forsaken thee,

And left thee in temptation;

With mercy great, as thou shalt see,

And boundless consolation,

I'll give the crown,

And to the throne

Of glory shall I raise thee,

To joy convert

Thy grief and hurt,

Thou evermore shalt praise me.”

Ah! gracious God, ah! Father's heart!

For years my consolation!

Why dost Thou let me feel such smart,

Pass through such tribulation?

My sad heart aches,

My eye awakes,

And bitter tears sheds ever,

My face once bright

Doth lose its light,

From sighing ceasing never.


How long, O blessèd Lord! wilt Thou,

Unmindful of me, leave me?

How long shall I in grief lie low,

And inward sorrow grieve me?

How long wilt chide,

And Thy face hide,

In darkness let me languish?

Say, when care's load

Shall cease, my God!

To wring my heart with anguish?

Wilt Thou eternally repel,

And show Thy goodness never?

And shall Thy word and promise fail,

Be put to shame for ever?

Doth wrath so burn,

That Thou'lt ne'er turn

To me, and stand beside me?

Yet, Lord, I will

Cleave to Thee still,

Thy hand in all can guide me.


My heart amid earth's misery

For Thee, O Lord! is aching;

My God! I wait and hope in Thee,

Let not shame me o'ertaking;

Thy friend in woe

Plunge, or the foe

Give cause for jubilation;

But, Lord, may I

Rejoice, rais'd high,

In glorious exaltation.

Ah! Lord, Thou true and faithful art,

Thy heart can ne'er disown me;

Nerve me in fight to bear my part,

With victory then crown me!

Lay Thou on me

The load, by Thee

Appointed, that I bear it.

When Thou the rod

Dost use, my God!

In measure may I share it!


Thy strength, O Lord! is infinite,

Thy hand hath all created,

Could all again with ruin smite,

Its pow'r is unabated.

We sound Thy name

With high acclaim,

As Lord of Hosts we own Thee!

In counsel right

No skill nor might

Can foil, nor e'er dethrone Thee.

Thou who dost Israel console,

Thou, Saviour, in affliction!

Ah! why permittest Thou my soul

To sink in sore dejection?

Thou dost not rest,

Thou'rt as a guest,

Who'rt in the land a stranger!

A hero Thou

Whose courage low

Sinks 'fore disgrace or danger?


Nay, Lord, not such a one art Thou!

My inmost heart believeth;

Thou standest firm, 'mid us shines now

The light that Thy word giveth.

Here restest Thou,

Lord, with us now;

Who call upon Thee ever,

At fitting hour

Wilt by Thy pow'r

From ev'ry woe deliver.

O Lord! my lengthen'd tale is o'er,

Then hear Thou my petition,

Help me, who often at Thy door

Have knock'd, and sought admission.

Help, Helper, me!

I'll joyfully

Thankoff'rings lay before Thee;

And when life's o'er

Shall evermore

In heav'n above adore Thee.



'Tis patience must support you

When sorrow, grief, or smart,

Or whate'er else may hurt you,

Doth rend your aching heart.

Belov'd and chosen seed!

If not a death will kill you,

Yet once again I tell you,

'Tis patience that you need.

The cup of patience drinketh

With nausea flesh and blood,

Back from the cross it shrinketh;

When threaten'd with the rod,

It shuddereth with fear.

'Tis bold when nought assaileth,

Heart shrinks, and courage faileth,

When storms and rain are here.

Why patience causeth sadness,

Is that the carnal mind

Unclouded joy and gladness

In God aye hop'd to find,


Though He hath made it clear,

He chastens whom He loveth,

And whom He much approveth,

He much afflicteth here.

God giveth patience ever,

The Spirit in the breast

Begetteth it whenever

Within us He doth rest;

The worthy, noble Guest

Preserves us from despairing,

And nerves for burden-bearing

The heart when sore distress'd.

From faith all patience springeth,

On God's own word depends,

To this she firmly clingeth,

Herself with this defends.

'Tis her high tow'r and wall,

Where she securely hideth,

Where God for her provideth,

Here fears she ne'er a fall.


And patience trust reposeth

On Jesu's death and pain;

When Satan her opposeth,

Here takes she heart again,

And saith, “Thou Prince of hell!

Thou never shalt devour me,

Too high I'm lifted o'er thee,

In Jesus do I dwell.”

Contented patience stayeth

On God's decree all-wise;

Although His grace delayeth,

Scarce feels fatigue arise;

With trust she bears her load,

And joyfully endureth,

This thought her heart assureth,

It is the hand of God.

Long, long, can patience waiting

The weary time beguile,

On God's word meditating

Get saving good the while.


With earnest fervent pray'r,

Each morn and eve she guardeth

Herself from ill, and wardeth

Off Satan's every snare.

To God's will patience boweth,

Doth His command fulfil,

'Mid scorn of foes she knoweth

'Tis wisest to be still.

Who will, let him despise,

Unhurt by the dishonour

And shame thus put upon her,

Her heart doth o'er it rise.

To honour patience serveth

Her God, and never more

From love and fealty swerveth;

Although He smiteth sore,

Yet doth she ever praise

His holy hand, and telleth

That God on high who dwelleth,

Doth well in all his ways.


And patience life sustaineth,

Adds to our tale of years;

She drives away what paineth

The heart, and stills its fears.

It is a beauteous light

That giveth him who heedeth,

And whom God's guidance leadeth,

A face with joy all bright.

Great joy from patience springeth,

The head a noble crown,

Gems for the neck she bringeth

From throne of Heaven down.

She wipes from weeping eyes

The tears of grief and anguish;

Whose souls with longing languish,

With ample good supplies.

My soul for patience sigheth,

My heart longs eagerly,

How urgently it crieth

And oft is known to Thee,


Of grace who hast full store!

Lord, hear my supplication,

Give patient resignation;

I ask for nothing more.

For patience the petition

Shall often up to Thee,

From out my low condition,

Ascend, O Lord, from me.

And in my dying hour,

Thy mercy still extending,

Oh! grant a patient ending,

Then need I nothing more.


What pleaseth God, my faithful child,

Receive with joy; although the wild

And wintry wind thy heart appal,

Have faith, thee only can befal

What pleaseth God!


The will of God is aye the best,

In it we can so calmly rest;

Thyself to it anew resign,

And only seek to have as thine

What pleaseth God!

God's counsel is the only wise;

Soon comes to nought what men devise;

Their projects fall, fall out of use,

Oft mischief work, not oft produce

What pleaseth God!

God's mood is the most gracious mood,

To all intending, doing good;

He blesses, though hard words may speak

The wicked world, and never seek

What pleaseth God!

The truest heart is God's own heart,

Who bids our misery depart;

Who screens and shelters, day and night,

The man who makes his chief delight

What pleaseth God!


Ah! could I sing, as sing I would,

From out my heart, and ever should,

I'd ope my mouth—in Him rejoice,

This moment praise with heart and voice

What pleaseth God!

His counsel wise would I make known,

The works of wonder He hath done;

His saving grace, eternal pow'r,

That work producing every hour

What pleaseth God.

He rules above and rules below;

On Him hangs all our weal and woe;

He bears the world in His high hand,

For us brings forth the sea and land

What pleaseth God!

His hands the elements restrain;

His hands our mortal life sustain—

Give summer, winter, day, and night,

That evermore to do delight

What pleaseth God!


His host, the stars, the moon, and sun,

Their wonted courses ever run;

Corn, oil, and must, bread, wine, and beer,

The fruitful earth brings forth each year,

Which pleaseth God!

His understanding is all wise,

He knows—they are before his eyes,

Who evil think and evil do,

As well as who the good pursue

That pleaseth God!

His little flock to Him is dear;

When sinning they forsake His fear,

He chastens with His Father's rod,

Till they return and do the good

That pleaseth God!

What cheers and strengtheneth our heart

He knows, and ever doth impart

Whatever good each one requires,

Who seeks for good and aye desires

What pleaseth God!


Is't so? then let the world retain

What pleaseth her, and she deems gain;

But thou in God delighted be,

My heart! approve whate'er you see

That pleaseth God!

Let others then in haughty mood

Rejoice in stores of earthly good;

But thou the Cross with patience bear,

Contented if thou hast the share

That pleaseth God!

Dost live in sorrow, sunk in grief,

Hast much affliction—no relief?

Still murmur not, for thou dost bear

In this thy bitter life of care

What pleaseth God!

In suff'rings art thou doom'd to live?

Then to thy great Protector cleave;

The world and all the creatures too

Are under God, can only do

What pleaseth God!


Doth ev'ry one despise Thy name?

Do foes Thee scorn and treat with shame?

Be not cast down, for Christ will raise

Thy head, who seeth in thy ways

What pleaseth God!

Faith fastens on the Saviour's love

Works patience, hope that looks above;

Lock both within thy secret heart,

Thou'lt have as thine eternal part

What pleaseth God!

Thy part is in the Heav'nly throne,

There is thy sceptre, kingdom, crown;

There shalt thou taste, and hear, and see,

There shall for ever happen thee

What pleaseth God!



Look up to thy God again,

Soul, sunk in affliction!

Shall He be reproach'd by men

Through thy sore dejection?

Satan's wiles dost thou not see?

By severe temptation,

Gladly would he keep from thee

Jesu's consolation.

Shake thy head in scorn, and “flee,”

Bid the old deceiver—

“Wilt renew thy thrusts at me,

Me to fear deliver?

Serpent! bruis'd thy head I see;

Through His pain hath freed me

From thy grasp, my Lord, and He

To His joy will lead me.

“Dost thou charge my sin to me?

When did God command me

Judgment to require from thee?

Tell me, I demand thee!


Who did pow'r on thee bestow

Sentence to deliver?

Who thyself art sunk so low

In hell's flames for ever.”

What I have not done aright

Me with sorrow filleth,

But of Jesu's blood the sight

All mine anguish stilleth.

He the ransom price hath paid,

From the cross relieves me,

When before God's throne 'tis laid,

Inward joy He gives me.

In Christ's innocence I boast,

His right is my glory,

Mine His merit, there I trust

As in stronghold hoary,

That the rage of every foe

Evermore resisteth,

Though the might of hell below

It to storm assisteth.


Rage then, devil, and thou, death!

Ye can never hurt me;

In the trials of my path

Doth God's grace support me.

God His only Son to me,

Mov'd by love, hath given,

That to endless misery

I may not be driven.

Cry then, foolish world! amain,

That God lov'd me never,

That my cherish'd hope is vain,

Has deceiv'd me ever.

Had God been averse to me,

Would He have supported

All the gifts so rich and free

He to me imparted?

What is there in sky or sea,

What the wide earth over,

What that works no good for me,

Canst thou then discover?


Why do star so beauteously

Shine on us from Heaven?

Why are, but for good to me,

Air and water given?

Why do clouds their streams outpour?

Why do dews earth cover?

Why with verdure's cover'd o'er,

Why flow blessings over

Hill and valley, field and wood?

Truly for my pleasure,

That I dwell secure, and food

Have in plenteous measure.

My soul on God's word most dear

Feeds and liveth ever,

That all Christians love to hear

Daily, tiring never.

Soon and late my heart in me

God opes for receiving

Of the Spirit's grace that He

Is so freely giving.


Why through holy men of old

Have God's words been given?

That we by their light might hold

On our way to heaven,

My heart's darkness to dispel,

From doubt to deliver,

That the conscience sure and well,

Be establish'd ever.

Now upon this holy ground

Build I most securely,

See how hell's malicious hound,

Spends 'gainst me his fury.

He can never overthrow

What God hath upraisèd,

But what Satan's hand doth do

That shall be abasèd.

I am God's, and mine is God,

Who from Him can part me?

Tho' the cross with heavy load

Press on me and smart me.


Let it press—the hand of love

Hath the cross laid on me,

He the burden will remove,

When the good is done me.

Children whom aright to guide

Parents would endeavour,

Must the father often chide,

Or they'd prosper never.

If I'm then a child of grace,

Should I shun God ever,

When He from sin's devious ways,

Seeks me to deliver?

Gracious are the thoughts of God,

In the pain He's sending,

Who here weeps beneath the rod,

Reaps not woe unending,

But eternal joy shall taste

In Christ's garden dwelling,

That he shall be there at last,

Now assurance feeling.


Often God's own children here

Sow in tears and sadness,

But at length the long'd-for year

Comes of joy and gladness;

For the reaping time appears,

All their labours after,

When are turn'd their grief and tears

Into joy and laughter.

Christian heart! courageously

All the griefs that pain thee

Cast behind thee joyfully,

More and more sustain thee

Let sweet consolation's light;

Praise and honour give you

To the God of love and might,

He'll help and relieve you.



Be thou contented! aye relying

On thy God, who life is giving,

For He hath joys soul satisfying,

Wanting Him—in vain thy striving.

Thy Spring is He,

Thy Sun that ever

Rejoiceth thee,

And setteth never.

Be thou contented!

He lightens, comforts, and supports thee,

True in heart, by guile unstainèd;

When He is near nought ever hurts thee,

E'en when smitten sore and painèd.

Cross, need, and woe

He soon averteth,

O'er the last foe

His pow'r asserteth.

Be thou contented!


How it fareth with thee and others,

Truly none from Him concealeth,

He ever from on high discovers

Burden'd hearts, and for them feeleth.

Of weeping eyes

The tears He counteth,

The pile of sighs

'Fore Him high mounteth.

Be thou contented!

When not another on earth liveth,

To whom safe thou may'st confide thee,

He'll faithful prove, who ne'er deceiveth,

And to happiest end will guide thee.

The secret grief

Thy soul that boweth,

And when relief

To give, He knoweth.

Be thou contented!

The sighing of thy soul He ever,

And thy heart's deep plaint is hearing;

What to another thou wouldst never

Tell, reveal to God, ne'er fearing.


He is not far,

But standeth near thee,

Who poor men's pray'r

Marks, soon will hear thee.

Be thou contented!

To God cleave, He'll salvation show thee,

Let not anguish then depress thee;

Although devouring floods o'erflow thee,

Rise above it, He will bless thee.

When 'neath the load

Thy back low bendeth,

Thy Prince and God

Soon succour sendeth.

Be thou contented!

Why for thy life should care so grieve thee,

How to nourish and sustain it?

Thy God, who ever life doth give thee,

Will provide for and maintain it.

He hath a hand

With gifts o'erflowing,

On sea and land

For aye bestowing.

Be thou contented!


Who for the forest songsters careth,

To their daily portion leads them,

For sheep and ox enough prepareth,

Slakes their thirst, with plenty feeds them;

He'll care for thee,

Thee, lone one! filling,

So bounteously

Thy hunger stilling.

Be thou contented!

Say not, the means nowhere appeareth,

Where I seek, my effort faileth;

God this high name of honour beareth,

Helper, when no help availeth!

When thou and I

Fail to discover

Him, speedily

He'll us recover.

Be thou contented!

Although away thy help is staying,

He will not for ever leave thee;

Tho' anxious makes thee His delaying,

'Tis for thy greater good, believe me.


What on the way

To come ne'er hasteth,

Doth longer stay,

And sweeter tasteth.

Be thou contented!

Though 'gainst thee hosts of foes are scheming,

Let not all their lies affright thee;

Still let them rage against thee, deeming

God will hear it and will right thee.

Doth God support

Thee and thine ever?

The foe can hurt

Or ruin never.

Be thou contented!

To each his share of ill is given,

Would he only see and know it;

No course on earth so fair and even,

That no trouble lurks below it.

Who can declare,

“My house was ever

All free from care,

And troubled never?”

Be thou contented!


So must it be, in vain our grieving,

All men here must suffer ever,

Whate'er upon the earth is living,

Evil days avoideth never.

Affliction's blow

Doth oft depress us,

And lays us low,

And death then frees us.

Be thou contented!

A day will dawn of rest and blessing,

When our God will come and save us

From the vile body's bands depressing,

And the evils that enslave us.

Death soon will come,

From woe deliver,

And take us home

Then all together.

Be thou contented!

He'll bring us to the hosts in glory,

To the chosen and true-hearted,

Who when they clos'd this life's sad story,

Hence in peace to joy departed,


And on the shore,

The ever-vernal,

Hear evermore,

The voice eternal.

Be thou contented!


Is God for me? t'oppose me

A thousand may uprise;

When I to pray'r arouse me,

He'll chase mine enemies.

And doth the Head befriend me,

Am I belov'd by God?

Let foes then rise to rend me,

The wild opposing brood!

I know—from faith none moves me,

I boast—nor feel I shame,

That God as father loves me,

In Him, a friend I claim.


Whene'er the tempest rageth,

At my right hand is He,

Its violence assuageth,

And peace restores to me.

My faith securely buildeth

On Jesus, and His blood;

This, and this only, yieldeth

The true eternal good.

The life that my soul liveth,

Finds nothing on the earth;

What Christ the Saviour giveth

Of all our love is worth.

My Jesus is my Glory,

My Splendour, and clear Light,

Liv'd He not in and for me,

Before God's eye so bright,

And 'fore His pure throne never

Could I a moment stay,

Must quickly flee for ever,

As wax 'fore fire away.


My Jesus death subdueth,

My sin remitteth quite,

He washeth aad reneweth,

The crimson maketh white.

I joy in Him, can ever

A hero's courage feel,

And judgment fear dare never,

As though uncleansèd still.

Nought, nought, can e'er condemn me,

My courage take away;

Hell's flames can ne'er o'erwhelm me,

For me they're quench'd for aye.

No sentence e'er can move me,

No evil e'er deject,

My Saviour who doth love me,

Doth with His wings protect.

His Spirit in me dwelleth,

And ruleth every pow'r,

All pain and sorrow stilleth,

Dispels all clouds that low'r.


What He in me implanteth,

He blesseth every hour,

Help to say “Father” granteth,

With every ransom'd pow'r.

When heart with terror breaketh,

And weak and worn I feel,

Words whispers He and speaketh

That are unspeakable;

My mouth can frame them never,

To God they are well known,

Who what delights Him ever

Discovers in His own.

His Spirit mine relieveth

With words of comfort blest,

Shows how God succour giveth

To all who seek His rest;

And how a new and golden

Fair city rear'd hath He,

Which here from sight withholden,

My joyful eyes shall see.


My mansion's there so splendid,

Prepar'd in yonder land;

Though when my course is ended,

I fall—Heav'n still doth stand.

Though care here often saddens

And causeth tears to flow,

My Jesu's light oft gladdens

And sweetens every woe.

Whoe'er to Jesus bindeth

Himself, doth Satan hate,

He's troubled much and findeth

His burden sore and great;

To suffer scarce is able,

Disgrace and scorn he meets,

The cross and every trouble

As daily bread he eats.

My mind this clear perceiveth,

Yet am I undismay'd;

To Thee my heart aye cleaveth,

On Thee shall cares be laid.


Though life and limb it cost me

And everything I have,

Unshaken shall I trust Thee,

Thee never shall I leave.

The world may ruin shiver,

Thou liv'st eternally,

Nor sword nor flame shall ever

Divide 'twixt Thee and me.

No thirst nor gnawing hunger,

No pain nor poverty,

Nor mighty prince's anger

Shall ever hinder me.

No angel, nought that gladdens,

No throne nor majesty,

No love nor aught that saddens,

No grief nor misery,

Nor aught that man discovers,

Be it small or great,

From Thee, my heav'nly Lover's

Embrace can separate.


My heart with joy is springing,

And sad I cannot be,

'Tis full of joy and singing,

The sunshine doth it see.

The Sun that looks with pleasure

On me is Christ my King;

The glory beyond measure

That waits me, makes me sing.


Why should sorrow ever grieve me?

Christ is near,

What can here

E'er of Him deprive me?

Who can rob me of my heaven

That God's Son,

As mine own,

To my faith hath given?


Naked was I and unswathèd

When on earth

At my birth

My first breath I breathèd.

Naked hence shall I betake me,

When I go

From earth's woe,

And my breath forsake me.

Nought—not e'en the life I'm living,

Is mine own,

God alone

All to me is giving.

Must I then His own restore Him?

Though bereft

Of each gift

Still shall I adore Him.

Though a heavy cross I'm bearing,

And my heart

Feels the smart,

Shall I be despairing?


God can help me, who doth send it,

He doth know

All my woe

And how best to end it.

God oft gives me days of gladness,

Shall I grieve

If He give

Seasons too of sadness?

God is good, and tempers ever

Every hurt,

Me desert

Wholly can He never,

Though united world and devil,

All their pow'r

Can no more

Do than mock and cavil.

Let derision now employ them,

Christ e'en here

Will appear

And 'fore all destroy them.


True believers shrinking never,

Where they dwell

Should reveal

Their true colours ever.

When approaching death would scare them,

Still should they

Patient stay

And with courage bear them.

Death can never kill us even,

But relief

From all grief

To us then is given.

It doth close life's mournful story,

Make a way

That we may

Pass to heav'nly glory.

There I'll reap enduring pleasure,

After woe

Here below

Suffer'd in large measure.


Lasting good we find here never,

All the earth

Deemeth worth

Vanisheth for ever.

What is all this life possesseth?

But a hand

Fall of sand

That the heart distresseth.

Noble gifts that pall me never,

Christ so free

There gives me

To enjoy for ever.

Shepherd! Lord! joy's fountain ever,

Thou art mine,

I am Thine,

No one can us sever.

I am Thine, because Thou gavest

Life and blood

For my good,

By Thy death me savest.


Thou'rt mine, for I love and own Thee,

Ne'er shall I,

Light of joy,

From my heart dethrone Thee.

Let me, let me soon behold Thee

Face to face,

Thy embrace

May it soon enfold me!


I into God's own heart and mind

My heart and mind deliver,

What evil seems, a gain I find,

E'en death is life for ever.

I am His son,

Who spread the throne

Of heaven high above me.

Tho' I bend low

Beneath His blow,

Yet still His heart doth love me.


He ne'er can prove untrue to me,

My Father aye must love me,

And tho' He cast me in the sea,

He only thus would prove me;

In what He good

Doth count, He would

My heart establish ever.

And if I stand,

His mighty hand

Will raise me, and deliver.

Vain had my own pow'r ever been,

To have adorn'd or made me;

In soul and body God is seen,

He form'd and He array'd me,

Plac'd mind and wit

On the soul's seat,

And flesh and bones did give me.

Who thus so free

Supplieth me

Can ne'er mean to deceive me.


Say, where a place to lay my head,

On earth had I attainèd?

Long since had I been cold and dead

Had God not me sustainèd

With His strong arm,

That ever warm,

And glad and healthy maketh.

Whom He gives joy

May praise employ,

What He leaves, falls and breaketh.

Wisdom and understanding true

In Him are ever dwelling;

Time, place, to leave undone or do,

He knoweth, never failing.

He ever knows

When joys, when woes,

Are best for those He loveth.

What He doth here—

Tho' it appear

Ill—to be good aye proveth.


Thou think'st indeed, if thou hast not

What flesh and blood is yearning

To have, that trial mars thy lot,

Thy light to darkness turning.

Of toil and care

Thou hast large share,

Ere thou thy wish attainest,

And dost not see

Whatever thee

Befals, thereby thou gainest.

In truth, He who created thee,

His glory in thee showing,

Hath long ago in His decree

Determin'd—all foreknowing—

What good for thee

And thine will be,

In faithfulness he'll give it.

Curb thou thy will,

Wait! be thou still,

To His good pleasure leave it.


Whate'er to send, seems good to God,

'Twill be at last refreshing,

Altho' thou call'st it cross and load

'Tis fraught with richest blessing.

Wait patiently,

His grace to thee

He'll speedily discover.

All grief and fear

Shall disappear

Like mist the hills spread over.

The field, unless the storm rage high,

Its ripe fruits yieldeth never,

So men were ruin'd utterly

If all were prosp'rous ever.

Though health it gives,

And thus relieves,

The bitter aloe paineth;

So must the heart

With anguish smart,

Ere it to health attaineth.


My God! my God! into Thy hand

I joyfully now yield me,

Keep me, a stranger in the land,

E'en to the end, Lord! shield me.

Deal with me now

As well dost know,

That I may profit by it;

Then more and more

Thy glorious pow'r,

Lord! show, and magnify it.

Wilt cause Thy sun on me to shine,

With pleasure, Lord, I'll share it;

Should trial or mischance be mine,

Then patiently I'll bear it.

Of life the door

Should it before

Me open here stand ever,

Where Thou lead'st me,

I'll joyfully

Go with Thee, shrinking never.


Should I along the path of death,

Through the dark vale be treading,

'Tis well, 'tis the appointed path,

E'en there Thine eyes are leading.

My Shepherd! Thou

Art all below

To such an issue bringing,

That I to Thee,


Shall songs of praise be singing.


Commit whatever grieves thee

At heart, and all thy ways,

To Him who never leaves thee,

On whom creation stays.

Who freest courses maketh

For clouds, and air, and wind,

And care who ever taketh

A path for thee to find.


The Lord thou must repose on

If thou wouldst prosper sure,

His work must ever gaze on

If thine is to endure.

By anxious care and grieving,

By self-consuming pain,

God is not mov'd to giving;

By pray'r must thou obtain.

Thy grace that ever floweth,

O Father! what is good,

Or evil, ever knoweth,

To mortal flesh and blood.

What to Thine eye all-seeing,

And to Thy counsel wise

Seems good, doth into being,

O mighty Prince, arise!

For means it fails Thee never,

Thou always find'st a way,

Thy doing's blessing ever,

Thy path like brightest day.


Thy work can no one hinder,

Thy labour cannot rest,

If Thou design'st Thy tender

Children should be bless'd.

Though all the powers of evil

Should rise up to resist,

Without a doubt or cavil

God never will desist;

His undertakings ever

At length He carries through;

What He designs He never

Can fail at all to do.

Hope on, thou heart, grief-riven,

Hope, and courageous be,

Where anguish thee hath driven,

Thou shalt deliv'rance see.

God, from thy pit of sadness

Shall raise thee graciously;

Wait, and the sun of gladness

Thine eyes shall early see.


Up! up! to pain and anguish

A long good night now say;

Drive all that makes thee languish

In grief and woe away.

Thine 'tis not to endeavour

The ruler's part to play,

God sits as ruler ever,

Guides all things well each day.

Let Him alone—and tarry

He is a Prince all wise,

He shall Himself so carry,

'Twill strange seem in thine eyes,

When He as Him beseemeth,

In wonderful decree,

Shall as Himself good deemeth,

O'errule what grieveth thee.

He may awhile still staying

His comforts keep from thee,

And on His part delaying,

Seem to have utterly


Forgotten and forsaken

And put thee out of mind,

Though thou'rt by grief o'ertaken,

No time for thee to find.

But if thou never shrinkest,

And true dost still remain,

He'll come when least thou thinkest,

And set thee free again,

Thee from the load deliver,

That burdeneth thy heart,

That thou hast carried never

For any evil part.

Hail! child of faith, who gainest

The victory alway,

Who honour's crown obtainest,

That never fades away.

God in thy hand will give thee,

One day, the glorious palm;

Who ne'er in grief did leave thee,

To Him thou'lt sing thy psalm.


O Lord no longer lengthen

Our time of misery,

Our hands and feet now strengthen,

And until death may we

By Thee be watched and car'd for,

In faithfulness and love,

So come we where prepar'd for

Us is our bless'd abode.


Thou must not altogether be

O'ercome by sad vexation,

God soon will cause to shine on thee

The light of consolation.

In patience wait, and be thou still,

And let the Lord do what He will,

He never can do evil.


Is this the first time we have known

And tasted sore affliction?

What have we had but grief alone

On earth, and sore dejection?

We've had an ample share of grief,

Yet God hath sometimes sent relief,

A respite brief of gladness.

Not so doth God our Father mean,

When His afflictions grieve us,

That no more shall His face be seen

That He'll for ever leave us;

His purposes quite other are,

That those who from Him wander far

By trial be recover'd.

It is our nature's evil mood

That when in joys we're living,

We then forsake our highest good,

Ourselves to license giving.

We earthly are, and deem more worth

The things and pleasures of the earth,

Than all that dwells in heaven.


God therefore all our joys doth blight,

Lets trials overtake us,

Takes that wherein our hearts delight,

Look up to Him to make us,

That to His goodness and His pow'r,

That we've neglected heretofore,

We may return as children.

When we return to Him again

He graciously receives us,

To joy He turns our every pain,

To laughter turns what grieves us;

To Him it is a simple art,

He soon doth help to him impart

Whom He with love embraceth.

Afflicted band! oh, fall ye now

With contrite hearts before Him,

Tell Him that ye in homage bow

To His great name; implore Him

In grace your sins to take away,

The load He on your backs did lay

To bear, your wounds to bind up.


Grace always before right must go,

And wrath to love yield ever;

His merest mercy, when we low

Are lying, must deliver.

His hand it is upholds us all,

If we let go, then break and fall

Must all our work to pieces.

On God's love must thou ever stay,

Nor let aught overthrow thee,

E'en when the heav'ns shall pass away

And earth shall crash below thee:

God promiseth His grace to thee,

His word is clear, who fearlessly

Trusts it, is ne'er deceivèd.

So darest thou His pow'r so great

Ne'er doubt a moment even,

Who is it that doth all create,—

By whom all gifts are given?

God doth it, and His counsel wise

Can ever ways and means devise,

When every man despaireth.


Seems help impossible to thee?

This should'st thou know however,

God by our narrow thoughts can be

Hemm'd and confinèd never,

This ne'er to us alloweth He;

He everywhere,—His arm is free,—

Doth more than we can fathom.

What is His wide dominion fair?

'Tis full of varied wonder;

He helpeth us when dark despair

We helplessly sink under,

To His great name this is the praise,

If thou wilt see His holy place,

Thou must ascribe for ever.



How long, Lord, in forgetfulness

And darkness wilt Thou leave me?

How long will sorrow on me press

And deep heart-anguish grieve me?

Wilt Thou Thy face, Lord, utterly

Turn from me? wilt ne'er look on me

In grace and in compassion?

How long shall I, thy stricken child,

Bereft of soul-rest languish?

How long shall storm and wind so wild,

Fill heart with fear and anguish?

How long shall my proud enemy,

Who only meaneth ill to me,

Exult o'er me in triumph?

Ah! look on me, my Shield and Lord!

Down from Thy holy heaven,

And hear now my complaining word,

My pray'r from heart grief-riven.

Give to mine eyes, Lord, pow'r and might,

And do not let death's gloomy night

So speedily o'ertake me.


For then, Lord, ev'ry enemy

Would never cease to glory,

And were I prostrate utterly,

Would ever triumph o'er me.

“There lieth he,” they'd cry in joy,

“Who caus'd us evermore annoy,

He's prostrate and ne'er riseth.”

I know them, and I know fall well

The wickedness they're planning,

Their hearts with ev'ry evil swell,

No good them e'er restraining.

But Thou, the faithful One, Lord, art,

And those who choose Thee for their part,

Thou nevermore forsakest.

My soul doth calmly trust in Thee,

Thou true to me remainest,

Of malice and of subtlety

The course, with pow'r restrainest.

This makes my heart with joy o'erflow,

That willingly dost Thou bestow

Salvation on the trusting.


O Lord! for aye I'll trust in Thee,

Thou'rt my sole joy for ever;

Thou doest well, protectest me,

From sorrow dost deliver.

And therefore I my whole life long,

Will sing Thee oft a gladsome song

Of praise and of thanksgiving.

Songs of Praise and Thanksgiving.



In grateful songs your voices raise,

All people here below,

To Him whom angels ever praise,

In heav'n His glory show.

With gladsome songs now fill the air

To God our chiefest Joy,

Who worketh wonders ev'rywhere,

Whose hands great things employ;

Who from the womb to latest years

Upholds the life He gave;

Who when no help from man appears

Himself appears to save;


Who though our way His heart oft grieves,

Maintains a gracious mood,

Remits the pains, the sin forgives,

And doth us nought but good.

Oh, may He give a joyous heart,

The mind from sorrow keep,

And cast all care, fear, grief, and smart

Into the ocean deep.

And may His blessing ever rest

On Israel's favour'd head;

May all we do by Him be bless'd,

May His salvation spread.

May love and goodness toward us flow,

In bounteous streams each day,

And every anxious care we know,

Be chas'd by Him away.

As long as beats each throbbing heart,

Our Saviour may He be,

Our portion when from earth we part,

To all eternity.


When sinks the heart, when strength decays,

By Him our eyes be press'd,

Then may we see His open face,

In everlasting rest.


Shall I not my God be praising,

And in Him not joyful be?

For in all His works amazing,

See I not His care for me?

Is it not pure love that filleth,

And His faithful heart o'erflows,

When He ever cares for those,

Who do only what He willeth?

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.


As its brood the eagle over,

Ever more its wings doth spread.

So the Highest aye doth cover

With His arms of pow'r my head.

In the womb e'en of my mother,

When to me He being gave,

E'en the life that now I have,

Was He then my shield and cover.

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.

Not too great a gift He even

Deem'd His only Son to be;

Him to death hath freely given,

Me from fear of hell to free.

Oh! Thou spring of boundless blessing,

How could e'er my feeble mind

Of Thy depth the bottom find,

Though my efforts were unceasing?

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.


And the Holy Ghost to guide me,

Noble Leader! He hath giv'n,

That He through the world may lead me,

Onward to the gate of heav'n.

That my heart He may be filling

With th' unclouded light of faith,

That can break the pow'r of death,

And hell's rage hath pow'r of stilling.

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.

For my soul's well-being ever

Full provision doth He make,

And in ev'ry need deliver,

For the body care doth take.

When my pow'r, my best endeavour

Cometh to extremity,

Then my God appears to me,

With His might comes to deliver.

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.


All the things in earth and heaven,

E'en where'er I turn my eye,

For my benefit are given,

That they may my need supply.

All that's living, all that's growing,

On the hills or in the woods,

In the vales or 'neath the floods,

God is for my good bestowing.

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.

When I sleep, His eye is waking,

When I wake, He strength'neth me,

Each new morn fresh courage taking,

I new love and goodness see.

Had my God existed never,

Had His face not guided me,

From such ills so frequently,

None could have deliver'd ever.

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.


'Gainst me many is the weapon,

Forg'd by Satan's enmity,

But no real hurt can happen,

None hath yet befallen me.

God's own angel whom He sendeth,

Wardeth off each deadly blow

Aim'd by the untiring foe,

Who our ruin thus intendeth.

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.

As a father ne'er withdraweth

From his child his love away,

Though he often evil doeth,

And from wisdom's paths doth stray.

So God's heart towards me moveth,

All my sins forgiveth He,

Not in vengeance smiteth me,

As a Father He reproveth.

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.


Ev'ry blow His hand inflicteth,

Though the heart with pain it rend,

When my heart aright reflecteth,

Is a token that my Friend

Thinks on me, and tow'rds me yearneth,

Me from this ill world would free,

That has so entangled me,

By the cross to Him me turneth.

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.

This I know full well, and never

Let it from my mind depart,

Christ's cross hath its limit ever,

And at length must cease to smart.

When the winter snows are over

Lovely summer will appear,

Who can hope, from ev'ry fear,

And from pain, shall they recover.

All things run their course below,

God's love doth for ever flow.


In God's love there is no ending,

Ne'er a limit find I there,

So my hands to Thee extending,

As Thy child, I raise my pray'r.

Father! deign Thy grace to give me,

That I may with all my might

Thee embrace both day and night,

All my life may never leave thee,

And when life is o'er with me,

Love and praise eternally.


How heavy is the burden made

That Thou upon our backs hast laid,

O God! the Lord of Hosts,

O God, whose anger rises high

'Gainst workers of iniquity.


The burden is the cruel tide

Of war, that earth with blood has dyed,

And fill'd with bitter tears.

It is a fire that rages high

'Neath suns of almost every sky.

The burden's great and hard to bear,

But Thy strong arm and Father's care

Are not to us unknown.

Thou punishest, but 'mid the woe

Thou love and friendliness dost show.

But true to Thee must we abide,

For ne'er from us dost Thou quite hide

Thy saving health and light.

How many hast Thou given o'er,

We've oft been shielded by Thy pow'r.

In many a sad and weary hour,

When gath'ring clouds did o'er us low'r

Above our anxious heads,

Thou still'd'st the storm, whose mighty hand

Upholdeth sky and sea and land.


How often, Lord, by day and night,

Our enemies with craft and might

Have threaten'd us, Thy flock!

But, faithful Shepherd! Thou wast near,

Repell'dst the wolf and still'dst our fear.

Our brethren are compell'd to roam,

Are driven forth from house and home,

While we, Lord, still enjoy

Each one his seat beneath the shade

By his own vine and fig-tree made.

Behold! my heart, on every hand

The towns and fields of many a land

Are doom'd to ruin sure,

The homes of men are overthrown,

The houses of our God cast down.

But rest and order still remain

With us, and we can still maintain

The worship of our God.

God's mind from out His holy word

'Mongst us is daily taught and heard.


Whoever this doth not perceive,

But to the winds such thoughts doth give,

Who in such blessèd light

No grace, no love, no goodness find,

How dark, thrice darken'd is their mind!

O gracious God! preserve us free

For aye from such stupidity;

Lord, give us gratitude,

That songs of praise in sweetest tone

We may present before Thy throne.

To nought we've done, or e'er can do,

To Thee—to Thee alone is due

The praise, O fount of love!

We've earned destruction from Thy face,

Thou deal'st with us in love and grace.

Oh! may we meditate Thy grace,

Till heart shall burn and tongue shall praise,

And give angelic zeal,

That every throbbing pulse may be

A note of praise, O Lord! to Thee.


But let the tide of woe recede,

Restore to us our joy, we plead,

May peace to us return.

How many in this vale of tears

Have never witness'd peaceful years!

Are we unworthy? then with Thee

We plead for helpless infancy,

Who wrong have never done.

Shall cradled infants feel the stroke,

Shall they endure the heavy yoke?

Have pity, Lord! oh, tender heart!

What heavy sighs, what bitter smart,

From our sad hearts are wrung!

No stone, our Saviour God art Thou,

How canst Thou so afflict us now?

How grievous are our wounds and sore,

They stink and fester more and more,

But Thou canst heal them all.

Pour in the oil of grace, that whole

Can make the body and the soul.


This wilt Thou do, we certainly

Believe, although we nowhere see

The means in all the world.

But Thou in our extremity

Dost find Thine opportunity.


Praise God! for forth hath sounded

The noble word of joy and peace,

There's rest where strife abounded,

The sword and spear their murders cease.

Up! up! again, and bring ye

Now forth the sounding lyre,

O Germany! and sing ye

In full and noble choir,

Your hearts and minds now raise ye

And thank the Lord, and say,

“Thy grace and goodness praise we

For they endure for aye!”


'Twere just if God were driving

Us in dire wrath from 'fore His face,

For with us still are thriving

The thorns of sin that grow apace.

In deed and truth we feel it—

His rod of chastisement!

But say whoe'er can tell it—

Who are they who repent?

We're only evil ever,

God's true continually,

He helpeth to deliver

From war and misery.

With grateful hearts o'erflowing

We greet thee, noble gift of peace!

Where'er thou dwell'st, now knowing

How richly thou dost ever bless.

God to thy keeping giveth

Our good and happiness,

Who woundeth thee and grieveth,

In his own heart doth press


Grief's arrow, and in madness

He quencheth in the land

The golden light of gladness

With suicidal hand.

What could this lesson ever

Grave on our hearts so solemnly,

As forts laid low for ever,

And towns that now in ruins lie:

As fair and fertile meadows

That wav'd with golden grain,

Now wrapt in forest shadows

And run to waste again.

As graves full of the buried,

Who fell in the dread hour

Of battle in ranks serried,

Whose like we'll see no more.

O man! be now afflicted,

And let thy tears in torrents flow,

With countenance dejected

To ponder to thy closet go;


What heretofore hath given

Thy God, didst thou deride,

Thy Father who's in Heaven

Now turn'd hath to thy side.

From fury and from pressing

He turneth for thy good,

As if by love and blessing

Constrain thy heart He would.

Awake thee! now awake thee!

Thou hard, cold world awaken'd be;

Ere doom's dread hour o'ertake thee,

By thee unlook'd for, suddenly.

Ye for the Saviour living!

Unshaken be your mood,

The peace He now is giving

Can only bring us good.

This lesson He is giving,

The end of all is nigh,

Thou shalt with Him be living

In peace eternally.



O Lord! I sing with mouth and heart,

Joy of my soul! to Thee

To earth Thy knowledge I impart,

As it is known to me.

Thou art the Fount of grace, I know,

And Spring aye fall and free,

Whence saving health and goodness flow

Each day so bounteously.

What have we here or what are we,

Of good what can earth give,

That we do not alone from Thee,

Our Father, aye receive?

The tent-like firmament who builds,

Who spreads th' expanse of blue,

Who sends to fertilize our fields

Refreshing rain and dew?


Who warmeth us in cold and frost,

Who shields us from the wind,

Who orders it that wine and must

We in their season find?

Who is it life and health bestows,

Who keeps us with His hand

In golden peace, wards off war's woes,

From our dear native land?

The work is Thine, my God! my Lord!

And Thine must ever be;

Before our door Thou keepest guard,

In rest we're kept by Thee.

Thou feedest us from year to year,

And constant dost abide;

When danger fills our hearts with fear,

With help art at our side.

With patience dost Thou ever chide,

Nor long Thine anger keep,

But castest all our sins aside

Into the ocean deep.


Whene'er our burden'd hearts we raise

To Thee, Thou'rt soon appeas'd;

The help Thou send'st shows forth Thy praise,

And our sad hearts are eas'd.

Thou mark'st how oft Thy people weep

And what their sorrows are,

Their tears dost in Thy bottle keep,

However small they are.

Our deepest needs dost Thou supply,

Thou giv'st what lasts for aye,

Thou lead'st us to our home on high,

When hence we pass away.

Awake! my heart, awake and sing,

And joyous be thy mood,

Thy God who maketh everything

Is, and abides thy good—

Thy treasure and inheritance!

Thy glory and delight!

Thy saving health and sure defence!

He keeps and guides thee right.


Why do thy cares both night and day

Grieve thee so bitterly?

Upon thy God thy burden lay,

Who gave thy life to thee.

Hath He not all the weary way

From youth till now thee led,

Oft chas'd misfortune's clouds away

That gather'd o'er thy head?

In all His rule no oversight

Can happen, no mistakes;

Whate'er He does or leaves is right,

A happy issue takes.

Let Him work who doth all things well,

Nor with Him interfere,

And so thou shalt in glory dwell,

And peace enjoy while here.



How can it be, my highest Light!

That as before Thy face so bright

All things must pale and vanish,

That my poor feeble flesh and blood

Can summon a courageous mood

To meet Thee, and fear banish?

But dust and ashes what am I?

My body what but grass so dry?

What good the life I'm living?

What can I with my utmost pow'r?

What have I, Lord! from hour to hour

But what Thyself art giving?

I am a poor and feeble worm,

A straw, the lightest passing storm

Could drive away before it.

When Thou Thy hand, that all doth stay,

Dost on me e'er so lightly lay,

I know not how t' endure it.


Lord! I am nought, but Thou art He

Who art all—all belongs to Thee,

And live and move I ever

In Thee—if Thou me terrifi'st,

No store of grace to help suppli'st

I can recover never.

I am unjust, but true Thy heart,

I evil am—Thou holy art,

This thought should shame be giving,

That I in such an evil stand,

Should from Thy mild paternal hand,

The least good be receiving.

Nought else but ill from infancy

Up e'en till now I've done to Thee,

In sin was I begotten;

And didst Thou not in faithfulness

My sin remit, and me release,

Lost were I and forgotten.

Let boasting then be far from me,

What is Thy due I render Thee,


To Thee alone be glory!

O Christ! may while I live below

My spirit, and what thence may flow,

With reverence adore Thee.

And if aught hath been done by me

That is well done, it came from Thee,

My pow'r could do it never.

Thee thanks and honour, Lord! I bring,

All my life long Thy praise I'll sing,

And tell Thy glory ever.


After clouds we see the sun,

Joy we feel when grief is gone,

After bitter pain and sore

Cometh consolation's hour.

Then my soul that sank before,

Even down to hell's dark door,

To the heav'nly choir doth soar.


He 'fore whom the world shall flee,

In my spirit comforts me,

With His high and mighty hand,

Tears me from the hellish band.

With the love to me He shows,

Swells my heart and overflows,

And my blood with rapture glows.

Did I e'er 'neath sorrow bend?

Did my heart grief ever rend?

Have I e'er been vexèd sore?

Satan e'er fool'd me before?

Aye—but henceforth am I free,

Faithfully thou shieldest me,

My salvation comes from Thee!

What thou mean'st, my bitter foe!

By thy deeds tow'rds me I know;

Truly thou with all thy pow'r

Seek'st me ever to devour.

Had I too much trusted thee,

Then had'st thou, ere I could see,

In thy snares entangled me.


All the guile I know full well

That in thy bad heart doth dwell;

Thou my God malign'st to me,

Turn'st His praise to obloquy;

Speaketh out His loving heart,

Keeps He silence on His part,

All He doth dost thou pervert.

If I hope and look for good,

If I'm in a joyous mood,

From my mind thou driv'st away

Every good thought—and dost say:

“God doth far from thee abide,

Riseth high misfortune's tide

Round thee now on every side.”

Hence depart! thou lying mouth,

Here is God's own ground in truth,

For the face of God is here,

And the beauteous light and clear

Of His favour, here doth rise,

All His word and counsel wise,

Op'd are now before mine eyes.


God lets none in sadness stay,

He with shame drives none away,

Who themselves up to Him give,

With the whole heart to Him cleave,

Who their cares on Him aye cast,

And hope in Him—joy at last,

For the soul and body taste.

Though it comes not as we will,

Just to-day—yet be thou still,

For perchance to-morrow may

Be the bright and joyous day.

God's time comes with measur'd step,

When it comes His word He'll keep

And joy's harvest we shall reap.

Ah! how often did I think,

As my feet began to sink

'Neath the heavy load of care,

In the mire of blank despair,

Now there is no hope for me,

Rest for me there cannot be

Till I enter death's dark sea.


But my God put forth His pow'r

To avert and to restore,

That I ne'er enough can tell

What His arm hath done so well;

When no path I could descry,

When no help to guide was nigh,

Help God sent me from on high.

When I timid and perplex'd

Often have my spirit vex'd,

Sleepless toss'd thro' all the night,

Sick at heart when dawn'd the light,

When heart fail'd me utterly,

Hast Thou then appear'd to me,

Turning my captivity.

Now as long as here I roam,

Have on earth a house and home,

'Fore mine eyes continually

Shall this thing of wonder be.

All my life long shall I bring

Offerings of thanks, and sing

Songs of praise to God my King.


Every grief and every smart,

By th'eternal Father's heart

Ever yet appointed me,

Or that may hereafter be

Chosen for me, all my days

From His gracious hand always,

I'll receive with joy and praise.

I will tread woe's bitter path,

I will onward go to death,

I into the grave will go,

Still my heart with joy shall glow.

Whom the Highest will raise high,

Whom th' Almighty standeth nigh,

Ne'er can perish utterly.


The Lord, the earth who ruleth,

And with His hand controlleth,

Whose goodness never endeth,

He watcheth me and tendeth.


As long as He is near me

With every gift He'll cheer me,

Of fulness overflowing

The riches aye bestowing.

By pastures green He leads me,

With gladness there He feeds me,

From purest springs revives me,

In need He counsel gives me.

And when the soul is fearful

Through grievous thoughts and careful,

He comfort giveth ever

And knows how to deliver.

My steps aright He leadeth,

And what to do me guideth,

And for His name's sake glorious

O'er fear makes me victorious.

Though often left to ponder,

While in dark vales I wander,

No evil fear I ever,

Distress o'ertakes me never.


Thou standest still beside me,

From wicked men dost hide me,

Thy rod and staff protect me,

And no fear can deject me.

My table Thou preparest,

For my refreshment carest,

When foes are plotting round me,

And seek to pain and wound me.

My head with oil anointest,

My empty soul appointest

Of every good and pleasure

A full o'erflowing measure.

The goodness Thou bestowest,

The mercy that Thou showest,

Till life itself forsake me,

Shall glad and joyful make me.

Thy service will I never

Forsake, but praise Thee ever,

In Thy house where Thou livest,

Reward to goodness givest.


As long as life is given

On earth here, and in heaven

Where I shall stand before Thee,

I'll evermore adore Thee!

Morning and Evening Songs.



The golden morning,

Joy her adorning,

With splendour near us

Draweth, to cheer us

With her heart-refreshing and lovely light.

My head and members

Lay wrapt all in slumbers,

But now awaking,

And sleep from me shaking,

Heaven's bless'd sunshine doth gladden my sight.

Mine eye beholdeth

What God upholdeth,

Made for His glory,

To tell the story


To us of His power and might so great,

And where the Father

The faithful shall gather

In peace, whenever

Earth's lies they shall sever

And leave this mortal and perishing state.

Come ye with singing,

To God be bringing

Goods and each blessing—

All we're possessing—

All be to God as an offering brought.

Hearts with love glowing,

With praises o'erflowing,

Thanksgiving voices,

In these God rejoices,

All other off'rings without them are nought.

To morn and even

His thoughts are given,

Increase He giveth,

Sorrow relieveth,


These are the works that He doeth alone.

When we are sleeping

Watch is He aye keeping,

When we're awaking

Care still of us taking,

He makes the light of His grace to shine down.

My thoughts I've raisèd

To Thee who'rt praisèd

For aye in Heaven!

Success be given,

May all my endeavours unhinder'd be!

From ev'ry evil

And work of the devil,

All malice ever,

Oh do Thou deliver!

In all Thy precepts establish Thou me!

May't pleasure give me,

May no pain grieve me

To see flow over

The cup my brother


Or neighbour hath, with Thy blessings so free.

Covetous burning

And unchristian yearning

For ill possessions,

Blot out such transgressions,

Cast them, O Father! all into the sea!

The life we're living

What is it giving?

Ere any thinketh

To ground it sinketh,

Soon as the breath of the grave on it blow.

All things together

Dread ruin must shiver,

The earth and heaven

They must perish even,

Wrapt in the flames that shall ardently glow!

All—all decayeth,

But God still stayeth,

His thoughts they waver

A moment never,


His word and will both eternally 'dure.

His grace and favour

Uninjur'd are ever,

Deadly wounds healing,

The heart with peace filling,

Health here and yonder to us they ensure.

My God for ever

Do Thou deliver!

Shield me, and cover

My debts all over,

In grace, Thine eyes from my sins turn away.

Govern and guide me,

Be ever beside me,

As it is pleasing

To Thee! am I placing

All in Thy hand and disposal for aye.

Wilt Thou give ever

To me whatever

My life is needing?

May I be heeding


Ever the faithful word spoken by Thee.

God is the highest,

The greatest, the nighest,

Gracious is ever,

Is changeable never,

Of all our treasures the noblest is He.

Wilt Thou then grieve me,

Gall to drink give me?

Must I be passing

Through cares harassing?

Do then as seemeth it good unto Thee.

Whate'er supporteth,

Is useful or hurteth,

Thou knowest ever,

And chastenest never

Too much, in case we o'erburden'd should be.

Trial God sendeth,

Speedily endeth

The storms of ocean,

The wind's commotion


Lightens the sunshine so gladsome and bright.

Fulness of pleasure,

And glorious leisure,

Will then be given

To me in yon Heaven

Whither my thoughts aye to turn take delight.


Awake, my heart! be singing,

Praise to thy Maker bringing,

Of every good the Giver,

Who men protecteth ever.

As shades of night spread over

Earth as a pall did cover,

Then Satan sought to have me,

But God was near to save me.


When Satan would devour me,

Thou, Father! spreadest o'er me

Thy wing, Thou me embraced'st,

All fear away Thou chased'st.

Thou said'st “Lie still, I'm near thee;

In spite of him who'd tear thee,

Sleep, child! let nought affright thee,

The sunlight shall delight thee.”

Thou truly, Lord! hast told it,

The light—mine eyes behold it,

From dangers hast releas'd me,

Thou hast renew'd and bless'd me.

Thou sacrifice would'st ever,

My gifts I bring Thee hither,

The offerings I'm bringing

My pray'rs are and my singing.

Such Thou disdainest never,

The heart Thou can'st search ever,

Thou know'st none can deceive Thee

No better can I give Thee.


Thou wilt, O Lord! be ending

Thy work in me, and sending

Who in his hands will take me,

To-day his care will make me.

May I in all I'm doing

Wise courses be pursuing,

Beginning, middle, ending,

May all to bliss be tending.

Thy blessings richly give me,

My heart would now receive Thee,

Thy word as food be given

To me till I reach Heaven.



Praise ye Jehovah,

All ye men who fear Him!

Let us with gladness to His name be singing,

Be thanks and praises to His altar bringing.

Praise ye Jehovah!

The life we're living

Who is ever giving;

Care all the night who like a father taketh,

And who with gladness us from sleep awaketh.

Praise ye Jehovah!

That we enjoy them,

And can still employ them,

Our mind and senses and our every member,

Thanks do we owe for this let us remember.

Praise ye Jehovah!


By flames o'erpowering,

Us and ours devouring,

From house and homestead that we've not been driven

We owe it to the care of God in Heaven.

Praise ye Jehovah!

That no thief, breaking

Through our doors and taking

Our property, and us assaulting hurt us,

Is that He sent His angels to support us.

Praise ye Jehovah!

Oh, faithful Saviour!

Fount of every favour!

Ah! let Thy kindness and protection hover,

By day and night our life at all times over.

Praise ye Jehovah!

Deign, Lord, to hear us,

And to-day be near us!

Supported by Thy grace, may nought e'er hinder

Our progress; and, in need, help speedy render.

Praise ye Jehovah!


Our will subduing,

Make us Thine be doing,

Teach us to labour faithfully; whenever

Beneath the load we're sinking, then deliver.

Praise ye Jehovah!

Do Thou direct us

When Thou dost afflict us,

That we may never mock; but be preparing

Before Thy throne hereafter for appearing.

Praise ye Jehovah!

And all true-hearted

Who're by grace converted

Wilt Thou, Lord, come for, and by grace be bringing

Where all Thine angels evermore are singing,

Praise ye Jehovah!



The daylight disappeareth,

It fleeth, and night neareth,

Its gloom is spreading o'er us,

With slumber to o'erpower us

And all the wearied earth.

The working day now endeth,

My heart to Thee ascendeth,

For toil and rest who'st given

The morning and the even,—

In praise my heart bursts forth.

Break forth, my heart, in singing,

Praise to thy Maker bringing,

Who soul and body giveth,

More good than heart conceiveth,

Or tongue can ever tell;

No moment passeth over

That doth not much discover

Of goodness overflowing,

He's aye on us bestowing,

Each hour doth show it well.


Just as the shepherd's treasure,

The sheep in boundless pleasure

O'er greenest pastures wander,

Their guardian's guidance under,

With free and fearless mind,

Themselves with flowers filling,

Their thirst at fresh springs stilling,

So me to-day hath guided,

With every good provided,

My Shepherd, good and kind.

God hath not me forsaken,

Though I sin's course have taken,

Not fearing e'er to leave Him,

By waywardness to grieve Him,

And wound His Father-heart.

Let, Father, Thy zeal never

Burn 'gainst me, nor me sever

From Thee and from Thy blessing;

My doing and transgressing

Awake regret and smart.


Oh! hear me, Father, praying,

My waywardness and straying

From Thee, my evil doing,

Into the ocean throwing,

Forgive eternally.

But may Thine angels hover

Round me, and be my cover,

All evil from me keeping;

With Thee will I be sleeping,

I'll rise again with Thee.

Now may mine eyelids closing

Be peacefully reposing,

All free from care and sorrow,

Till on the golden morrow

I joyfully awake.

Thy wings shall shield me ever,

The enemy shall never

Thy flock and me endanger,

Whom day and night in anger

His prey he seeks to make.


When silent or when talking,

When sitting or when walking,

To Thee I'm wholly given,

Thou art my life from heaven,

This word is true and sore.

In every undertaking,

In sleeping hours and waking,

My fortress art Thou ever,

Thine arm doth aye deliver,

My bliss doth aye endure.


Now spread are evening's shadows,

O'er forests, towns, and meadows,

And sleepeth ev'ry eye;

Awake my pow'rs and sing ye,

And pray'r and praises bring ye,

That your Creator please on high!


O Sun! where art thou vanish'd?

The night thy light hath banish'd,

The night of day the foe;

Go then, for now appeareth

Another Sun and cheereth

My heart—'tis Jesus Christ, my joy!

We've seen the day's declining,

The golden stars are shining

In yonder dark-blue sky.

There shall I be for ever

When God doth me deliver,

From this low vale of misery.

To rest the body hasteth,

Itself of clothes divesteth,

Type of mortality!

I'll put it off, and o'er me

Christ will the robe of glory

Throw, and of immortality!


Head, hands, and feet so tirèd

Are glad the day's expirèd,

That work comes to an end;

My heart be fill'd with gladness

That God from all earth's sadness,

And from sin's toil relief will send.

Lie down, my members tirèd

Upon your couch desirèd,

Lie down my wearied head!

A day and hour is nearing

They'll be for you preparing

Beneath the sod, a quiet bed.

Mine eyes scarce ope are keeping,

A moment—I'll be sleeping,

Where's body then and soul?

In grace Thy care then make me,

May evil ne'er o'ertake me,

Thou Shepherd Lord of Israel!


O Jesus, be my cover!

And spread both Thy wings over

Thy child, and shield Thou me!

Though Satan would devour me,

Let angels ever o'er me

Sing, “This child shall uninjur'd be!”

And you, my well belovèd!

Shall by no ill be movèd,

No danger shall betide.

God peaceful slumbers send you,

With golden arms defend you,

Send guardian angels to your side!




Go forth, my heart, and seek delight

In this summer time so bright,

The bounties God displayeth,

The garden's splendour go and see,

Behold how God for me and thee

Them gorgeously arrayeth.

The trees with leaves are cover'd o'er,

The earth with carpet spreads her floor

Of green, all fresh and tender,

The tulip and narcissus wear

Attire of finer texture fair

Than Solomon in splendour.

The lark aspiring soars on high,

Flies from her cleft the dove so shy,


And seeks the woodland shadow;

The nightingale with song so rare

Delights and fills the ev'ning air

O'er mountain, vale, and meadow.

Leads forth her little brood the hen,

The stork builds near the haunts of men,

And feed their young the swallows;

The stag so swift, the roe so light

Of foot, come bounding from the height

Into the grassy hollows.

The brooklets murmur in the sand,

And fringe the edge on either hand

With myrtle rich in shadow;

The shepherds and the sheep rejoice,

In joy and mirth you hear their voice

Sound from the neighb'ring meadow.

The bee through all the live-long hours,

Unwearied roams among the flow'rs,


Its precious stores to gather;

The strong juice of the vine each hour

Is ever gaining strength and pow'r

This glorious summer weather.

While springeth fast the precious grain,

The young and old exult again,

Praise Him with all their powers,

Whose benefits unceasing are,

With gifts so manifold and rare

Who human nature dowers.

I cannot rest, I never dare,

In my Creator's gracious care

My inmost soul rejoices,

To God most High, when all things raise

A song of universal praise,

My voice shall join their voices.

Methinks it is so pleasant here,

All things so beautiful appear


In this our poor world even;

What will it be when earth we leave,

And at its golden gates receive

Glad welcome into Heaven?

What purest light, what ecstasy,

Will in the Saviour's garden be!

How will it sound when 'fore Thee,

All with united heart and voice,

Ten thousand seraphins rejoice

And rev'rently adore Thee.

Ah! blessèd God, oh! were I there

Before Thy throne, and did I bear

My branch of palm victorious,

As angels do, my voice I'd raise

Thine ever blessèd name to praise,

In songs of triumph glorious.

But though I still am dwelling here,

And still the body's burden bear,


Can I be silent?—Never!

My heart, no matter where I be,

Or here or there, shall bend to Thee,

In adoration ever.

Help! Lord, my soul with blessings crown,

With blessings that from Heav'n flow down,

That I may blossom ever!

And may the summer of Thy grace

Cause fruits of faith to grow apace,

Fruits that shall wither never.

And may Thy Spirit dwell in me,

May I a good branch ever be

Ingrafted in the Saviour!

In Thine own garden may I be

To Thy name's praise a goodly tree,

Implanted by Thy favour!

Grant me Thy paradise to share,

And more fruit may I ever bear


While I am going thither.

Thine honour, Lord, to me is dear,

Thee and Thee only shall I here

And yonder serve for ever.


O God! who dost Heav'n's sceptre wield

What is it that now makes our field,

And everything that it doth bear,

Such sad and ruin'd aspect wear?

Nought else, in truth, but that the band

Of men from Thee on every hand

Have fallen utterly away,

Their guilt increasing every day.

They who as God's own property

His name should praise continually,

And of God's word should love the light,

Like heathen are involv'd in night.


The Heav'ns are all with darkness clad,

The firmament's clear light doth fade;

We wait to see the light again

At dawn of day, but wait in vain.

In ceaseless strifes involv'd men are,

In every place is fearful war,

In every corner hate and spite,

Contentions every class delight.

The elements o'er all the land

Are stretching out 'gainst us the hand,

And troubles from the sea arise,

And troubles come down from the skies.

It is a time of anguish sore,

For hunted, plagued their time before

The people are into the grave,

No rest to them do they vouchsafe.

The source of joy becometh sad,

The sun hath ceas'd to make us glad,

And all at once the clouds descend,

Shed tears that never seem to end.


Ah, child of man! go weep alone,

Thy many grievous sins bemoan,

Henceforward from thy crimes refrain,

Repent, and be thou clean again.

Fall on thy knees, thyself now throw

On God, that He may mercy show,

That His deservèd wrath may be

By Him to grace turn'd speedily.

He's faithful, and aye true will be,

Nought else desireth but that we

With reverence and godly fear

To seek His mercy should draw near.

Ah! Father, Father, hear our cry,

Redeem us, 'neath sin's yoke we lie,

From out the world drawn may we be,

And Thou Thyself turn us to Thee.

Subdue Thou our rebellious mood,

And make us, sinners, pure and good;

Whom Thou dost turn, soon turn'd is he,

Who heareth Thee, is heard by Thee!


And let Thine eye now friendly be,

The anguish'd cry that reacheth Thee

From earth, from our sad hearts, O Lord,

With gracious ear do Thou regard.

Wrath's black robe tear off with Thy hand

And comfort Thou us and our land,

And may the genial sun shine forth

And ripen the fair fruits of earth.

And, Lord, as long as we may live

Our daily bread in bounty give,

And when the end of time we see

The bread give of eternity!



Now gone is all the rain,

Rejoice my heart again,

Sing after times of sadness

To God thy Lord with gladness!

Our God His heart hath turnèd

Our pray'r He hath not spurnèd.

On sea and on our land

Outstretchèd was His hand,

In anger us addressing;

He said, “Ye're aye transgressing,

In ways of sin ye wander,

Nor ever turn, nor ponder.

“So shall my Heaven's light

Its countenance so bright

With robe of blackness cover,

With dark clouds be spread over;

No longer shine in glory

But shall be weeping o'er thee.”


Appeas'd His wrath our sighs

That to His ears did rise,

For He forgetteth never

His mercy that dures ever,

His Spirit tow'rd us yearning,

His anger ceas'd from burning.

The clouds away then sped,

The path the damp winds tread,

From whence the rain descended,

Was clos'd, the torrents ended,

And from the deeps of Heaven

No waters more were given.

Now wearied field away

Thy robe of sadness lay,

Arise from out thy sadness

And let us hear with gladness

Thee songs of summer raising,

Thy great Creator praising.


The glorious sun, see there,

Comes forth again so fair,

With blessings earth doth cover;

Now all the rains are over,

Hills, valleys are receiving

Its wondrous beams life-giving.

The earth's reviv'd again;

What drown'd was by the rain

Will once again be living

And precious fruit be giving,

The fields good wheat forth bringing,

In meadows grass be springing.

The trees so very fair

Fruit-laden will stand there;

From hill-sides like a river

Will wine and oil flow ever;

In warm and quiet weather

Will bees their honey gather.


Our portion He will give

Who in the Heav'ns doth live.

He'll bounteously bestow it,

We shall partake and know it;

And what earth will supply us

Will amply satisfy us.

God faithful is and true,

His mercy's ever new,

His anger soon is turnèd.

He gives what we've ne'er earnèd

He doth Himself discover

To us, our sins looks over.

O man! direct thy ways,

And all thou dost, to praise

Thy Master's love and favour,

So that thy heart may never

His faithful heart be grieving,

To Him offence be giving!



Full of wonder, full of art,

Full of wisdom, full of pow'r,

Full of kindness, grace, and heart,

Full of comfort flowing o'er,

Full of wonder, still I say,

Is Love's chaste and gentle sway.

Those who've never met before,

Ne'er each other known nor seen,

Never in the idlest hour

Thus employ'd their thoughts have been,

Yet whose hearts and hands in love

Tieth God who lives above!

His child doth this father guide,

That one traineth his each day,

Each their special wind and tide

Speed upon their sep'rate way,


When the time appointed's there,

Lo! they're a well-mated pair!

Here grows up a prudent son,

And a noble daughter there;

One will be the other's crown,

One the other's rest from care

Each will be the other's light,

But from both 'tis hidden quite,

Till it's pleasing in His sight

Who the world holds in His pow'r,

To all giveth what is right

Freely in th' appointed hour;

Then appears in word and deed

What hath been by Him decreed.

Then Ahasuerus' eye

First doth quiet Esther see;

To where Sara peacefully

Dwells, Tobias leadeth He;

David then, with pliant will,

Fetcheth prudent Abigail.


Jacob flees from Esau's face,

And he meeteth Rachel fair;

Joseph in a foreign place

Serves, and winneth Asnath there;

Moses did with Jethro stay,

And bore Zipporah away.

Each one taketh, each doth find

What the Lord doth choose for him;

What in Heaven is design'd,

Comes to pass on earth in time.

And whatever happens thus

Order'd wisely is for us.

This or that might better be,

Oft this foolish thought is ours;

But as midnight utterly

Fails to be like noonday's hours,

So the feeble mind of man

God's great wisdom cannot scan.

Whom God joins together live,

What the best is knoweth He,


Our thoughts only can deceive,

His from all defects are free;

God's work standeth firm for aye,

When all other must decay.

Look at pious children who

Enter'd have the holy state,

How well for them God doth do,

See what joys upon them wait;

To their doings God doth send

Evermore a happy end.

Of their virtues the renown

Blossometh for evermore,

As a shadow when is gone

Of all other love the flow'r;

When truth faileth everywhere,

Their's still bloometh fresh and fair,

Fresh their love is evermore,

Ever doth its youth renew,

Love their table covers o'er,

Sweetens all they say and do.


Love their hearts aye giveth rest,

When they're burden'd and oppress'd.

Though things oft go crookedly,

Even then this love is still,

Can the cross bear patiently,

Thinking 'tis the Father's will.

From this thought doth comfort taste,

Better days will come at last

Meanwhile streams of blessing gives

God with bounty rich and free,

Mind and body He relieves,

And the house too foundeth He;

What is small and men despise,

Makes He great and multiplies.

And when all is over here

That the Lord designs in love,

For His faithful children dear,

Taketh them to courts above,

And with great delight in grace

Folds them in His warm embrace.


Now 'tis ever full of heart,

Full of comfort flowing o'er,

Full of wonder, full of art,

Full of wisdom, full of pow'r,

Full of wonder, still I say,

Is love's chaste and gentle sway.

[10]This song used to be sung in Germany after wedding dinners, and in some places on the way to church before solemnization.


Oh, Jesus Christ! how bright and fair

The state of holy marriage where

Thy blessing rich is given

What gracious gifts Thou dost bestow,

What streams of blessing ever flow

Down from Thy holy heaven,

When they

True stay

To Thee ever,

Leave Thee never,

Whose troth plighted,

In one life have been united.


When man and wife are mated well,

In harmony together dwell,

Are faithful to each other,

The streams of bliss flow constantly

What bliss of angels is on high

From hence may we discover;

No storm,

No worm

Can destroy it,

Can e'er gnaw it,

What God giveth

To the pair that in Him liveth.

He giveth of His grace the boon,

And in its bosom late and soon

His own belov'd He keepeth,

His arms He daily spreadeth o'er,

Guards as a Father by His pow'r

Us and our house, nor sleepeth.

Still we

Must be

Here and thither

Roaming ever,


Till He gives us

Pious homes, and thus relieves us.

The husband's like a goodly tree

Whose branches spread so fair and free;

The wife a vine that giveth

Much fruit, and nurtures what it bears,

Whose fruit increaseth with the years,

Fruit that remains and liveth.


All hail!

Husband's treasure!

House's pleasure!

Crown of honour!

On His throne God thinketh on her.

O wife! the Lord hath chosen thee

That from thy womb brought forth should be

The folk His church that buildeth;

His wondrous work goes on for aye,

The mighty word His mouth doth say,

What thou beholdest, yieldeth,


Sons fair

Stand there,

Daughters sitting

Working, knitting,

Finely spinning,

And with art time wisely winning.

Be of good cheer, it was not we

Who first this order did decree,

It was a higher Father,

Who lov'd and loveth us for aye,

And from whose lips when griev'd each day

We friendly counsel gather;

Good end

He'll send,

What we're doing

And pursuing,

Or conceiving

Wise and happy issue giving.

A time will come, it cannot fail,

When we 'neath trials sore shall quail,


And tears be freely flowing;

To him who bears it patiently,

By God's grace shall his sorrow be

Turn'd into joy o'erflowing.

Toil now,

Wait thou,

He arriveth

Who rest giveth,

Who can ever

Banish care and soon deliver.

Come hither then, my King so bless'd!

In trials guide, in pain give rest,

In anxious times relieving!

To Thee we shall ascribe the praise,

Our hearts and voices we shall raise

In one loud song, thanks giving,

Till we

With Thee

Ever dwelling,

And fulfilling

Thy will ever,

Thy name cease to praise shall never.

Of Death, the Last Day, and Eternal Life.



Lord God! Thou art for evermore

Thy people's habitation,

And Thou existence hadst before

Was laid the earth's foundation!

Ere yet the hills began to be

Thou lived'st in eternity,

Of all things the beginning!

Thou lettest all the crowds of men

Through death's dark portals wander,

And biddest them return again,

Those others follow yonder.

With Thee a thousand years are aye

Like watch of night or yesterday

When it is gone for ever.


Thou lettest the base hosts of men

E'en as a stream be flowing,

And as a ship upon the main

That fav'ring winds are blowing,

And as a sleep and dream of night

That when men wake at morning light

They can no more remember.

We're like an herb that early dies,

Or grass in fields that groweth,

That in the morning flourishes,

Ere night the mower moweth.

So is't with man: he blooms to-day,

To-morrow he is borne away

If but a breath doth touch him!

Because Thy wrath 'gainst us doth glow,

Lord! we so early vanish,

And for our sins Thou lay'st us low,

And from Thy face dost banish.

Our sins Thou sett'st before Thine eyes,

Then doth Thine indignation rise

In Thine heart ever holy!


This fire it is consumes in all

Our bones the marrow ever;

And hence it is that great or small

From death escapeth never.

And hence our days are passing o'er

Like tales that oft beguile an hour

And that are soon forgotten.

And scarcely doth our life on earth

To seventy years last even;

And what are all our labours worth

If four-score years be given.

What is the sum of all our gain

From youth to age, but toil and pain,

Heart-sorrow and vexation?

We're ever toiling full of care,

And ere we do bethink us

To stop our work, lo! death is there,

Into the grave to sink us.

And speedily we pass away,

Yet of their end none ever stay

To think, nor of God's anger.


O teach us, Lord! to think each day

Upon this earth's affliction,

That when we think on death we may

Grow wiser by reflection.

Ah! turn on us again Thy face

And be at peace, O God of grace!

With Thy rebellious children.

And early with Thy mercy free

Be soul and body filling,

And late and early, Lord, may we

Thy glorious praise be telling.

O chiefest joy! our hearts now cheer,

And once more give us good times here,

The days have been so evil.

We've borne the cross these weary years,

Now let Thy sun be shining,

Vouchsafe us laughter after tears,

And pleasure after pining.

And evermore, O Lord! make known

Thy works of wonder to Thine own,

Thine honour to Thy children.


Be Thou our faithful friend and God,

Establish us for ever!

And when we err from wisdom's road

Give penitence and favour!

Turn Thou our hearts again to Thee,

May all our works establish'd be,

Crown all we do with blessing!


A rest here have I never,

A guest on earth am I,

Heav'n will be mine for ever,

My Fatherland's on high.

Here up and down I'm driven;

In rest eternal there,

God's gift of grace is given

That endeth toil and care.

What hath my whole life ever

From youth been to this hour,

But labour ceasing never,

As long as I have pow'r


To tell of; days of anguish

I've past, and oft the night

In sorrow did I languish

Until the morning light.

And on the ways I've wander'd

What storms have terrified,

It blew, rain'd, lighten'd, thunder'd,

Fear was on every side.

Hate, envy, opposition

Rag'd, undeserv'd by me,

This was the sad condition

I must bear patiently.

So liv'd the honour'd fathers

In whose footsteps we tread,

From whom the saint oft gathers

The wisdom he may need

Of trial what full measure

Had father Abraham,

Ere he attain'd his pleasure,

To his right dwelling came.


How rough too and uneven

The way that Isaac trod,

And Jacob, who had striven

And had prevail'd with God;

What bitter grief and wearing

Felt he, what woe and smart;

In fear and in despairing

Oft sank his fainting heart.

The holy souls and blessèd

Went forward on their race,

They chang'd with hearts distressèd

Their wonted dwelling-place:

They hither went and thither,

Great crosses bore each day,

Till death came to deliver,

Them in the grave to lay.

In patience am I giving

Myself to just such woe?

Could I be better living

Than such have liv'd below?


Here must we suffer ever,

Here must we upwards strive;

Who fights not well shall never

In joy eternal live.

While on the earth I'm staying,

My life shall thus be spent,

I would not be delaying

For aye in this strange tent.

Along the paths I wander

That lead me to my home,

God boundless comfort yonder

Will give me when I come.

My home is high above me,

Where angel hosts for aye

Praise Him whose heart doth love me,

Who ruleth all each day,

Who aye preserves and beareth

All in His hand of might,

Who orders and prepareth

What good seems in His sight.


For home my tir'd heart yearneth,

I'd gladly thither go,

From earth away it turneth

From all I've here pass'd through.

The longer here I'm staying

I less of pleasure taste,

My spirit's thirst allaying,

The world's an arid waste.

The dwelling is unholy,

The trouble is too great.

Why com'st Thou, Lord, so slowly

To free me from this state?

Come, make a happy ending

Of all my wanderings,

Relief by Thy pow'r sending,

From all my sufferings.

Where I've so long remainèd

Is not my proper home;

When my life's end is gainèd,

Then forth from it I'll come,


What here I've needed ever

I'll put it all away;

When soul and body sever,

Me in the grave they'll lay.

Thou, who my Joy art ever,

And of my life the Light,

When death life's thread doth sever,

Bring'st me to heav'n so bright,

To mansions everlasting,

Where I shall ever shine,

E'en as the sun, while tasting

Of pleasures all divine.

There I'll be ever living

Not merely as a guest,

With those who crowns receiving

From Thee are ever bless'd;

I'll celebrate in glory

Thine ev'ry mighty deed,

My portion have before Thee,

From every evil freed.



My face, why should'st thou troubled be

When thou of death art hearing?

Know it, it cannot injure thee,

Contemplate it, ne'er fearing.

When thou dost know

Death, all its woe

Will soon be disappearing.

From the old serpent's face first tear

The mask he is assuming,

And lo! no poison more is there,

'Tis harmless through the coming

Of Christ to save,

Who to the grave

Went down, death thus o'ercoming.


Thou, Lord, didst break our foe's great pow'r,

His sting thus from him taking,

The butt of scorn he's evermore,

No mischief can be making.

Thy precious blood

Damps his hot mood,

His ardour's him forsaking.

'Twas sin that was the sting of death,

And on to dying drove us,

For ever done away sin hath

Our Saviour, who did love us.

Its pow'r and might

Is broken quite,

Though it to grief may move us.

Now sin is dead, God's anger's turn'd,

He's reconcil'd; the Saviour

Hath borne the curse our debts had earn'd,

Restor'd us to God's favour.

Who was our foe

Our friend is now,

Is full of grace for ever.


It cannot be, if Thou'rt my friend,

That Thou would'st kill me ever;

Thy Father's heart can ne'er intend

To death me to deliver,

And who is e'er

Thy child and heir

By ill is injur'd never.

But Thou, O Father! doest well

When trials sore are grieving,

When misery the life doth fill,

The waves around us heaving,

That us Thy hand

To Fatherland

Brings, from the floods relieving.

When from the angry skies storms break,

And mountains quake before them,

The thunder of Thy wrath doth shake

The hills, and pealeth o'er them,

Then dost Thou come

And takest home

Thine own, Thou carest for them.


When rage around our enemies,

Our injury are seeking,

When lions, wolves, and bears arise,

Their vengeance on us wreaking,

Thou tak'st Thy sheep,

Dost safely keep

Them near Thee, comfort speaking.

And if the world treats evilly

Him who to Thee is cleaving,

Thou sayest, “Come to me, my son!

Come, from me be receiving

Love, pleasure, joy,

That never cloy,

That I for aye am giving.”

And angel hosts then joyfully

Descend, and round us hover,

And tend the soul so carefully;

And when life's course is over

To God on high

It peacefully

Goes with them 'neath their cover.


The Lord His bride meets joyfully

And saith, “Now welcome ever,

I have espousèd thee to me,

To all mine own come hither!

Whom I 'fore thee

Have brought to me,

From yon world did deliver.

“Thou true and faithful wast in heart,

Wast ne'er asham'd to own me,

And now receivest thou thy part,

With crown of joy I crown thee.

Thy part am I,


Beside me I enthrone thee.

“Of thine eyes now I dry the flood,

Thy bitter tears am stilling;

Here turn'd is to thy highest good,

The grief thou once wert feeling;

Of thy grief's sea

No one shall be

Here save with rapture telling.


“All my belov'd ones clothe I here

In pure white linen ever,

With joy in heaven they appear,

Here envy felt is never.

Here is no death,

No cross nor scath,

Good friends at all can sever.”

O God! why should the thought of death

With terror make me shiver?

'Tis he who'll from the yoke beneath

Of mis'ry me deliver.

From torture He

Will set me free,

I can regret it never.

For death is the Red Sea to me,

Through which on dry land ever

Thine Israel, so dear to Thee,

Pass to the land of favour,

Where milk and wine

Flow ever in

Full streams that cease shall never.


It is heav'n's golden door to me,

The fiery car God sendeth,

Wherein my spirit speedily

To th' angel choir ascendeth,

When God shall say

“Thy working day

Of life below now endeth.”

O sweetest joy, O blessèd rest!

To all true-hearted given,

Come, let mine eyes by Thee be press'd,

In peace take me to heaven.

May I roam there

'Mong pastures fair

Where day ne'er knoweth even.

What fails us here, there will He give,

Full measure to us bringing,

Our grateful songs shall He receive,

From loving hearts up-springing.

And there shall I

Too, willingly

Song after song be singing.



Be glad, my heart! now fear no more,

Let nothing ever grieve thee;

Christ lives, who lov'd thee long before

Thy being He did give thee,

And ere He made thy wondrous frame;

His love remaineth still the same,

It ne'er can change to hatred.

Be of good cheer! thy nearing end,

My heart! need not appal thee,

No ill's in it; God doth extend,

His loving hand and call thee

From all the thousand forms of woe

That in this vale of tears below,

Thou ever hast endurèd.


'Tis true, 'tis call'd death's agony,

But yet it is no dying;

The death of death is Christ, for He

Prevents it from destroying,

That though it puts forth all its pow'r,

No hair it hurteth in the hour

When I from hence am taken.

The sting of death in sin doth lie,

And in our evil doing;

Poor child of Adam! eagerly

This path was I pursuing.

In Christ's blood sin is wash'd away,

Forgiven are we now for aye,

Ne'er fall in condemnation.

My sin is gone, and I am clean,

Whoever would deprive me,

Henceforth is life eternal mine;

The thought may never grieve me

Of sin's dread wages earn'd by me;

Who's reconcil'd, must ever be,

Unhurt by opposition.


Now God's free grace I with me take,

And all His joy and gladness,

On this last journey that I make,

And know no grief nor sadness.

The foe becomes to me a sheep,

His ire becomes a blessèd sleep,

Of quiet rest the pillow.

Thou Jesus! O thou sweetest Friend,

My light and life art ever!

Thou holdest me, dost me defend,

The foe can move Thee never.

In Thee I am, Thou art in me,

As we are here, we'll ever be,

Nought here or there can part us.

My body down to rest doth lie,

Fatigued with life's sad story;

The soul then mounteth up on high,

With chosen ones in glory

It mingles, and keeps joyfully,

The endless year of Jubilee

With all the holy angels.


Oh! Highest Prince of great and small,

May that bless'd day be nearing;

When Thou shalt by Thy trumpet call,

And all the dead be hearing.

Again shall soul and body be

One, and Thy joy shall taste and see,

Thy Father's kingdom enter.

If 'tis Thy will, O Lord, appear,

To peace and bliss to take me

For ever, Thee may I be near,

How joyful would it make me!

Be open'd wide—of death, thou gate!

That to so bliss'd place and state

Through thee I may pass over.



Mine art thou still, and mine shalt be,

Who will be this denying?

Not only thou belong'st to me,

The Lord of Life undying

The greatest right hath aye in thee;

He taketh, He demands from me

Thee, O my son, my treasure,

My heart's delight and pleasure!

If wish avail'd, my soul's sweet star!

My free choice would I make thee,

Than earth's fair treasures rather far,

I evermore would take thee.

Would say to thee, Abide with me,

The joy of all my dwelling be,

I ever more shall love thee,

Till death itself remove me.


Thus saith my heart, and meaneth well,

But God doth mean still better;

Great love doth in my bosom dwell,

In God there dwelleth greater.

I am a father, nothing more,

Of fathers God's the crown and pow'r,

The fountain who is giving

Their being to all living.

I long and yearn for my dear son;

God, by whom he was given,

Wills he should stand beside His throne,

Should live with Him in heaven.

I say, Alas! my light is gone!

God saith, “I welcome thee, my son,

I'd have thee ever near me,

With endless joys would cheer thee!”

O lovely word! O sweet decree!

More holy than we ever

Can think; with God no ill can be,

Mischance, or sickness never,


No care, no want, no oversight,

With God no sorrow e'er can blight;

Whom God cares for and loveth

No trouble ever moveth.

We men much thought and time expend

On our dear ones' adorning;

Our thoughts and efforts ever bend,

Are planning night and morning

To gain for them a happy place;

And yet how seldom 'tis the case

They reach the destination

We had in contemplation.

How oft a young and hopeful one

From virtue's path far roameth,

By him through ill example's done

What Christians ne'er becometh.

Then God's just anger doth he earn,

On earth he meeteth scoffs and scorn,

His father's heart he filleth

With pain that nothing stilleth.


Now such can never be my case,

My son is safely yonder,

Appeareth now before God's face,

Doth in Christ's garden wander,

Is fill'd with joy, is ever bless'd,

And from heart-sorrow doth he rest,

Sees, hears the hosts so glorious

Who here are watching o'er us.

He angels yonder hears and sees,

Part in their songs he taketh,

And knows all wisdom's mysteries;

His high discourse he maketh

What none of us can ever know

With all our searching here below,

To none on earth 'tis given,

Reserv'd it is for Heaven.

Ah! could I even draw so near,

Could it to me be given

The faintest sounds of praise to hear

That fill the courts of Heaven,


When prais'd is the thrice holy One,

Who thee hath sanctified, my son!

Joy would my heart be swelling,

Tears from mine eyes be welling.

Would I then say, Stay with me here,

Henceforth I'll murmur never;

Alas! my son! wert thou but near!

No, but come quickly hither

Thou fiery car, and take me where

My child and all the blessèd are,

Who speak of things so glorious,

O'er every ill victorious.

Now be it so, I'd have it so,

I'll never more deplore thee;

Thou liv'st, pure joys thy heart o'erflow,

Bright suns shine ever o'er thee,

The suns of endless joy and rest.

Live then, and be for ever bless'd,

I shall, when God wills, yonder

In bliss hereafter wander.



On thy bier how calm thou'rt sleeping

Yet thou livest, oh our crown!

Watch eternal art thou keeping,

Standing near thy Saviour's throne.

Endless joy thy portion now!

Why should tears so freely flow?

What should thus in sorrow sink us?

Up! aright let us bethink us!

Grudge we to our friends their pleasure;

When they laugh, we laugh again;

Bitter tears shed without measure,

When we see them sunk in pain.

When we see them conq'rors come,

From the cross triumphant home;

When is o'er life's toil and anguish,

Then no more in grief we languish.


Noble heart! in peace now rest thee,

Thou hast vanquish'd every foe,

All afflictions that oppress'd thee,

Overwhelm'd thy heart with woe;

All the toil and misery,

All care and anxiety,

All that made thee sleep in sorrow,

Wake in anguish on the morrow.

God who sendeth all temptations,

Knows the burden each can bear;

He appoints all tribulations,

Who in loving, gracious care,

Sent thee every trial sore

That thou now hast triumphed o'er,

Who hath strength enough to bear it,

Must in larger measure share it.

Hadst thou been at heart a craven,

Shrinking from the chilly blast,

Loving most the quiet haven,

With no cloud the sky o'ercast,


God, the giver of all good,

Never such a grievous load

Of affliction had ordain'd thee,

As dishearten'd oft and pain'd thee.

Triumph now, for thou, victorious

By the pow'r of God most high,

Sonlike in thy strength so glorious,

Walk'st amid the Company

Of the city fair and new,

Which the Lord hath built for you;

With the angels join'st in singing,

Sweetest songs from heart up-springing.

Jesus bids thee cease from weeping

Wipes the tear-drop from thine eye;

Free thy heart from sorrow keeping

All thy need doth He supply.

In thy cup now running o'er

Wishest thou but one thing more,

That thy friends who here still wander

Were thy bliss now sharing yonder.


To the realms we'll come so glorious,

Out of sorrow into joy;

Thee with myriad saints victorious

See in bliss without alloy.

Oh! how bless'd and fair 'twill be,

When we all shall dwell with Thee;

When is o'er life's chequer'd story,

And we reign in endless glory.


The time is very near

When, Lord, Thou wilt be here

The signs whereof Thou'st spoken

Thine advent should betoken,

We've seen them oft fulfilling

In number beyond telling.

What shall I do then, Lord?

But rest upon Thy word,

The promise Thou hast given

That Thou wilt come from heaven,

Me from the grave deliver

And from all woe for ever.


Ah! Jesus Christ, how fair

Wilt be my portion there!

The welcome Thou'lt address me,

Thy glances, how they'll bless me,

When I the earth forsaking,

My flight to Thee am taking.

Ah! what will be the word

Thou'lt speak, my Shepherd Lord!

What will be then Thy greeting,

Me and my brethren meeting?

Thy members Thou wilt own us,

And near Thyself enthrone us.

And in that blessèd hour,

How shall I have the pow'r

Mine eyelids dry of keeping,

How tears of joy from weeping

Refrain, that flowing over

My cheeks, like floods would cover?


And what a beauteous light

Will from Thy face so bright

Beam on me, then in heaven,

When sight of Thee is given,

Thy goodness then me filling,

Joy will my breast be swelling.

I'll see then and adore

Thy body bruisèd sore,

Whereon our faith is founded,

The prints of nails that wounded

Thy hands and feet be greeting,

Thy gaze with rapture meeting.

Thou, Lord, alone dost know

The joys so pure that flow

In life's unfailing river

In paradise for ever,

Thou can'st portray, and show them:

By faith alone I know them.


What I've believ'd stands sure,

Remaineth aye secure;

My part the wealth surpasseth;

The richest here amasseth;

All other wealth decayeth

My portion ever stayeth.

My God, my fairest Part!

How will my bounding heart

With joy be overflowing,

Praise evermore renewing,

When through the door of heaven

By Thee is entrance given?

Thou'lt say, “Come, taste and see,

Oh! child, belov'd by me,

Come, taste the gifts so precious

I and my Father gracious

Have to bestow, come hither,

In pleasure bask for ever.”


Alas! thou world so poor!

Of wealth, what is thy store?

Mean is it to be holden,

Compar'd with all the golden

Crowns and thrones Jesus placeth

For whom He loves and graceth.

Here is the angel's home,

Bless'd spirits hither come,

Here nought is heard but singing,

Nought seen but joy up-springing,

No cross, no death, no sorrow,

No parting on the morrow.

Hold! hold! my sense so weak!

What dost thou think and speak,

What's fathomless, art sounding?

What's measureless, art bounding?

Here must man's wit be bending

The eloquent be ending.


Lord! I delight in Thee,

Thou ne'er shalt go from me,

Thy hand in bounty giveth

More than my heart conceiveth,

Or I can e'er be counting,

So high Thy mercy's mounting.

How sad, O Lord, am I,

Until I from on high

See Thee in glory hither

Come, Thine own to deliver,

Wert Thou but now revealing

Thyself! my wish fulfilling!

The time is known to Thee;

It best becometh me

To be prepar'd for going,

And all things so be doing,

That every moment even

My heart may be in Heaven.


This grant, Lord, and me bless.

That so Thy truth and grace

May keep me ever waking,

That Thy day not o'ertaking

Me unawares, affright me,

But may, O Lord! delight me.


By John was seen a wondrous sight,

A noble light,

A picture very glorious:

A multitude stood 'fore him there

All bright and fair,

On heav'nly plain victorious;

Their heart and mood

Were full of good,

That mortal man

With gold ne'er can

Procure, so high 'tis o'er us.


Palm branches in their hands they bore,

They stood before

The Lamb's throne, 'fore the Saviour;

Praise from their lips did ever flow,

Their robes like snow,

Their song still higher ever,

So sweetly rang;

Glad thanks they sang,

And in their song

The holy throng

Of angels joinèd ever.

“Who,” said the wond'ring John, “are they

In white array,

Whom now I see before me?”

“They are,” said one from out the crowd

That round him stood,

One of the elders hoary,

“They're men, my son,

Who fought and won

The fight of faith,

Despis'd the scath,

Attain'd the prize of glory.


“They're those who on the earth below,

Long, long ago,

Pass'd through great tribulation;

Who for the honour of their Lord

And of His word,

All grief and all vexation,

From blame all free

But patiently,

Though smarting sore

By God's help bore,

O'ercame with exultation.

“They wash'd their robes and made them white

(Their hearts were right),

In faith's bath them renewing,

And they resisted evermore

With all their pow'r

Hell's art, it quite subduing,

Did aye deride

Earth's pomp and pride,

Chose Jesu's blood

As their chief good,

All other good eschewing.


“And therefore with their doings, they

Stand there for aye,

Where God's fair temple's standing,

The temple where they night and day

Praise God for aye,

His glorious name commending.

There do they live

With nought to grieve,

From toil all free

Joys taste and see,

That never know an ending.

“There in His dwelling sitteth God

And spreads abroad

His goodness as a cover,

There with bliss manifold is bless'd

In quiet rest,

The wearied whose life's over;

What pleasure gives,

The heart relieves,

The longing stills,

And the eye fills,

In full bloom stands there ever.


“No thirst, nor hunger there, no need;

The heav'nly bread

All wants aye satisfieth;

And shineth there the sun no more

In too great pow'r,

Its light pure joy supplieth;

Heav'n's sun so bright

And heart's delight,

Is our great Lord

The living Word,

Who no good thing denieth.”

The Lamb His flock will ever feed

E'en as they need,

In pastures never wasting;

He will them to the fountain bring,

Whence ever spring

Streams of life everlasting;

And certainly

Ne'er rest will He,

Till wash'd away

All tears for aye

Are, and His bliss we're tasting.