|Text:||Deck Thyself, My Soul, With Gladness|
1. Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness,
Leave the gloomy haunts of sadness.
Come thou forth and cease repining,
In the daylight's splendor shining,
For the Lord of our salvation
Doth regard thy lowly station.
He in highest heaven reigneth,
Yet to be thy Guest He deigneth.
2. Hasten as His bride, to meet Him
And with loving rev'rence greet Him,
Who with words of life immortal
Knocketh at Thy spirit's portal.
Open thou the gates before Him,
Saying, while thou dost adore Him:
Come, in homage let me kiss Thee,
That no longer I may miss Thee.
3. Ah, how hungry is my spirit
For the grace I do not merit!
Ah, how oft, when sorrows tire,
Doth my soul this food desire!
In the battle well nigh worsted,
For this cup of life I thirsted,
Wanting Him Who here invites me
And as God with God unites me.
4. Now with joy and yet with wonder
On this feast my soul doth ponder;
For the mystery unbounded,
Which no reason e'er hath sounded,
Lets me witness at this hour,
Lord, the greatness of Thy power;
Quite beyond all human telling
Is the pow'r within Thee dwelling.
5 All our reason cannot measure,
Lord, the secret of this treasure
Never growing less, though feeding
All who for Thy grace are pleading
With Thy flesh and blood from heaven
When the bread and wine are given.
Oh, these mysteries unbounded
Are by God alone expounded.
6 Jesus, Sun of joy and gladness,
Light to banish all my sadness,
Love that gifts on me bestoweth,
Fount whence all my being floweth,
Here I humbly kneel before Thee
And for worthiness implore Thee,
To receive that bread from heaven,
For our good, Thy glory, given.
7 Thou by fervent love wast driven,
Lord, to leave Thy throne in heaven,
Willingly for us to languish
On the cross in bitter anguish,
To forego all joy and gladness
And to shed Thy blood in sadness,
Which we now in truth are drinking,
While of Thee, our Savior, thinking.
8 Jesus, Bread of life, I pray Thee,
Let me gladly here obey Thee:
Never to my hurt invited,
Be Thy love with love requited;
From this banquet let me measure,
Lord, Thy love's unbounded treasure;
When at last my senses leave me,
As Thy guest in heaven receive me.
|First Line:||Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness|
|Title:||Deck Thyself, My Soul, With Gladness|
|Translator:||Catherine Winkworth (1649)|
|Author:||J. Franck (1863, a.)|
|Meter:||L. M. D.|
|Topic:||The Means of Grace: Holy Communion|
|Composer:||J. Crüger (1649)|
|Meter:||L. M. D.|
|Source:||German chorale: Scmücke dich, O liebe Seele|