Chapter 12

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.

CHRISTIAN JOY IN DEATH.

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, Eternally 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.

JOYFUL RESIGNATION TO A HAPPY DEPARTURE FROM THIS WEARY WORLD.

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.

THE BEREAVED FATHER COMFORTS HIMSELF CONCERNING HIS NOW SAINTED SON.

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.

BY THE BIER OF A FRIEND.

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.

OF THE LAST DAY.

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.

FROM THE REVELATION OF JOHN.--CHAP. VII.

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.

LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

End of Project Gutenberg's Paul Gerhardt's Spiritual Songs, by Paul Gerhardt