Paul Gerhardt's Spiritual Songs Part 22

My G.o.d! my G.o.d! into Thy hand I joyfully now yield me, Keep me, a stranger in the land, E'en to the end, Lord! s.h.i.+eld 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 s.h.i.+ne, 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, Eternally, Shall songs of praise be singing.

COMMIT THY WAY UNTO THE LORD, TRUST ALSO IN HIM, AND HE SHALL BRING IT TO Pa.s.s.--PSALM x.x.xVII. 5.

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, G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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.

G.o.d, 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, G.o.d 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.

G.o.d 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.

SONG OF CONSOLATION.

Thou must not altogether be O'ercome by sad vexation, G.o.d soon will cause to s.h.i.+ne 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 G.o.d hath sometimes sent relief, A respite brief of gladness.

Not so doth G.o.d 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.

G.o.d 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 G.o.d's love must thou ever stay, Nor let aught overthrow thee, E'en when the heav'ns shall pa.s.s away And earth shall crash below thee: G.o.d promiseth His grace to thee, His word is clear, who fearlessly Trusts it, is ne'er deceived.

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?

G.o.d 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, G.o.d by our narrow thoughts can be Hemm'd and confined 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.

THE 13TH PSALM OF DAVID.

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 compa.s.sion?

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 s.h.i.+eld 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."