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How blest to all Thy followers, Lord, the road

Author: Gottfried Arnold, 1666-1714; Catherine Winkworth Meter: 10.10.10.10 Appears in 3 hymnals Lyrics: How blest to all Thy followers, Lord, the road By which Thou lead'st them on, yet oft how strange! But Thou in all dost seek our highest good, For Truth were true no longer, couldst Thou change. Though crooked seem the paths, yet are they straight, By which Thou draw'st Thy children up to Thee, And passing wonders by the way they see, And learn at last to own Thee wise and great. No human laws can bind Thy Spirit, Lord, That reason or opinion frame for us; The knot of doubt is severed by Thy sword, Or falls unravelled if Thou willest thus. The strongest bonds are weak to Thee, O God, All sinks and fails that would Thy course oppose; Thy lightest word can quell Thy stoutest foes, And desert paths are by Thy footsteps trod. What human prudence fondly strives to bind, Thy wisdom sunders far as east to west; Who long beneath the yoke of man have pined, Thy hand exalteth high above the rest. The world would scatter, Thou dost union give; She breaks, Thou buildest; what she builds is made A ruined heap; her light is nought but shade; Her dead Thy Spirit calls to rise and live. Is there an act our reason would applaud? Lo! in Thy book hast Thou the example given; But him whom none as wise and pious laud, Thou often lead'st in secret up to Heaven, As Thou didst leave the Pharisee, to go And eat with sinners whom all else forsook. Who can search out Thy purposes, or look Into the abyss of wisdom whence they flow? Our all, O God, is nothing in Thine eyes, Our nothing Thou regardest oft with love; Glory and pomp of words Thou dost not prize, Thy impulse only gives them power to move. Thy noblest works awaken not man's praise, For they are hidden, and he blindly turns Away, nor though he see, their light discerns, Too gross his sense, too keen their dazzling rays. O Ruler! We would bless Thee and adore, At whose command we live or turn to dust; When Thou dost give us of Thy wisdom's store, We see how true Thy care, and learn to trust. Thy wisdom plays with us as with a child, Who playing learns his Father loves him well; 'Tis love that brings Thee down with man to dwell, Love guides our faltering footsteps through the wild. Now seems to us o'er harsh and strict Thy school, Now dost Thou greet us mild and tenderly, Now when our wilder passions break Thy rule, Thy judgments fright us back again to Thee. With downcast eyes we seek Thy face again, Thou kissest us, we promise fair amends, Once more Thy Spirit rest and pardon sends, And curbs our passions with a stronger rein. Thou know'st, O Father, all our weakness well, Our impotence, our foolishness of mind; Almost a passing glance may serve to tell How weak are we, how ignorant, how blind, And so Thou comest with Thy help and stay, A father's rule, a mother's love are Thine; The lamb, on whom none else discern Thy sign, Thou carriest in Thy bosom day by day. The common ways are trodden not of Thee, Thy steps are seldom traced by mortal eyes, Yet art Thou near us, and unseen, dost see All hopes and wishes that within us rise. The bright reflection of Thy inner thought Is day by day before our eyes outspread; Who thinks he quickest hath Thy meaning read, Is oft another deeper lesson taught. O Eye, whose glance no falsehood can endure, Grant me to wisely judge, and well discern Nature from grace--Thy Light serene and pure From grosser fires that in and round me burn. Let no strange fire be kindled on the shrine Within my heart, lest I should madly bring The hated offering unto Thee, O King. Ah, blest the soul whose light is born of Thine! When reason contradicts Thy law, or climbs So high, she weeneth to know more than Thou, Break down her confidence, great God, betimes, And teach her lowly at Thy feet to bow. Nor let my proud heart dictate, Lord, to Thee, But tame the wayward will that seeks its own, And wake the love that clings to Thee alone, And takes Thy judgments in humility. Absorb my will in Thine; support and bear Onward in loving arms Thy timid child; Thy Spirit's voice dispels all doubt, all fear, And quells the passions erst so fierce and wild. Thou art mine All, since that Thy Son is mine; Oh let Thy Spirit work with power in me, With strong desire I thirst, I pant for Thee, Oh joy whene'er Thy glories round me shine! So shall the creature ever serve me here, Nor angels blush to bear me company; The perfect spirits to Thy throne most near, They are my brethren, waiting there for me; And oft my spirit joys to meet a heart, That loveth Thee and me and every saint. Is aught then left can make me sad and faint? Come, Fount of Joy! vain sorrows, all depart!

Let who will in thee rejoice

Author: Johann Franck; Catherine Winkworth Meter: 7.7.7.7 Appears in 4 hymnals Lyrics: Let who will in thee rejoice, O thou fair and wondrous earth! Ever anguished sorrow's voice Pierces through thy seeming mirth; Let thy vain delights be given Unto them who love not Heaven, My desire is fixed on Thee, Jesus, dearest far to me! Weary souls with toil outworn, Drooping 'neath the glaring light, Wish that soon the coming morn Might be quenched again in night, That their toils might find a close In a soft and deep repose; I but wish to rest in Thee, Jesus, dearest far to me! Others dare the treacherous wave, Hidden rock and shifting wind— Storm and danger let them brave, Earthly good or wealth to find; Faith shall wing my upward flight Far above yon starry height, Till I find myself with Thee, Jesus, dearest Friend to me! Many a time ere now I said, Many a time again shall say, Would to God that I were dead, Would that in my grave I lay! Rest were mine, and sweet my lot Where the body hindereth not, And the soul can ever be, Jesus, dearest Lord, with Thee! Come, O Death, thou twin of Sleep, Lead me hence,--I pray thee come, Loose my rudder, through the deep Guide my vessel safely home. Thy approach who will may fly, 'Twere a joy to me to die, Death but opes the gates to Thee, Jesus, dearest Friend to me! Would that I today might leave This my earthly prison here, And my crown of joy receive Waiting me in yon bright sphere! In that home of joy, where dwell Hosts of angels, would I tell How the Godhead shines in Thee, Jesus, dearest Lord to me! But not yet the gates of gold I may see nor enter in, Nor the heavenly fields behold, But must sit and mourning spin Life's dark thread on earth below; Let my thoughts then hourly go Whither I myself would be, Jesus, dearest Lord, with Thee!

One thing is needful! Let me deem

Author: Schröder; Catherine Winkworth Meter: 8.8.8.8.10.10.10.10 Appears in 4 hymnals Lyrics: One thing is needful! Let me deem Aright of that whereof He spoke; All else, how sweet soe'er it seem, Is but in truth a heavy yoke, 'Neath which the toiling spirit frets and pants, Yet never finds the happiness it wants: This one can make amends, whate'er I miss, Who hath it finds in all his joy through this! My soul, wouldst thou this one thing find? Seek not amid created things; Leave what is earthly far behind, O'er Nature heavenward stretch thy wings, Where God and man are One, in whom appear All truth and fulness, thou hast found it here,— The better part, the One thing needful He, My One, my All, my Joy, who saveth me. As Mary once devoutly sought The eternal truth, the better part, And sat, enwrapt in holy thought, At Jesu's feet with burning heart, For nought else caring, yearning for the word That should be spoken by her Friend, her Lord, Losing her All in Him, His word believing, And through the One all things again receiving: Even so is all my heart's desire Fixed, dearest Lord, on Thee alone; Oh make me true and draw me nigher, And make Thyself, O Christ, my own. Though many turn aside to join the crowd, To follow Thee in love my heart is vowed, Thy word is life and spirit, whither go? What joy is there in Thee we cannot know? All perfect wisdom lies in Thee As in its primal hidden source; Oh let my will submissive be, And hold henceforth its even course, Controlled by truth and meekness, for high Heaven To lowly simple hearts hath wisdom given; Who knoweth Christ aright, and in Him lives, Hath won the highest prize that wisdom gives. Oh that my soul from sleep might wake, And ever, Lord, Thine image bear! Thee for my portion I will take, Thy holiness Thou bidd'st us share, Whate'er we need for God-like walk and life Is given to us in Thee; oh end this strife, And free me from the love of passing things, To know alone the life from Thee that springs! What can I ask for more? Behold Thy mercy is a very flood; I know that Thou hast passed of old Into the Holiest through Thy blood, And there redeemed for ever those who lay Beneath the rule of Satan; now are they Made free by Thee, who erst were slaves and weak, And childlike hearts the name of Father speak. Deep joy and peace and holy calm Fill my once restless spirit now; O'er verdant pastures free from harm, She follows Thee, her shepherd Thou; Whate'er rejoices or consoles us here, Is not so sweet as feeling Thou art near; This One is needful, but all else is dross, Let me win Christ, all other gain is loss.

Redeemer of the nations, come!

Author: Johann Franck; St. Ambrose; Catherine Winkworth Meter: 8.8.8.8 Appears in 4 hymnals Lyrics: Redeemer of the nations, come! Ransom of earth, here make Thy home! Bright Sun, oh dart Thy flame to earth, For so shall God in Christ have birth! Thou comest from Thy kingly throne, O Son of God, the Virgin's Son! Thou Hero of a twofold race, Dost walk in might earth's darkest place. Thou stoopest once to suffer here, And risest o'er the starry sphere; Hell's gates at Thy descent were riven, Thy ascent is to highest Heaven. One with the Father! Prince of might! O'er nature's realm assert Thy right, Our sickly bodies pine to know Thy heavenly strength, Thy living glow. How bright Thy lowly manger beams! Down earth's dark vale its glory streams, The splendour of Thy natal night Shines through all Time in deathless light. Text Sources: Veni, Redemptor gentium

Follow me, in me ye live

Author: Rist; Catherine Winkworth Meter: 7.7.7.7 Appears in 4 hymnals Lyrics: Follow me, in me ye live, What ye ask I freely give, Only heed ye lest ye stray, Follow me, the Living Way; Follow me with all your hearts, I will ward off sorrow's darts; Learn from Christ your Lord to be Rich in meek humility. Yea, Lord, meet it is indeed We should all thy bidding heed; Who in fear of this earth's blame, Counts Thy lowly yoke a shame, To Thy name, Lord, hath no right, Is no Christian, in Thy sight. Ah too well I know that we, Hear on earth, should follow Thee. Where is strength, Lord, to fulfil, Glad at heart, Thy works and will, Following on where Thou hast trod? All too weak am I, O God; If awhile Thy paths I keep, Soon I pine for rest and sleep; E'en to love Thee, Lord, aright, Passeth far my feeble might. Yet I will not turn from Thee, Yet my joy in Christ shall be; Help me, make me strong and bold, Firm and fast Thy grace to hold; This world and her lusts I leave, Only to my Lord I cleave; All their promises are lies, But who follows Thee is wise. Thou hast gone before us, Lord, Not with anger, strife, or sword, Not with kingly pomp and pride, But with mercy at Thy side. Moved by wondrous love divine For our life Thou gavest Thine, And Thy precious outpoured blood, Won for us the highest good. Let us follow in such sort, Christ-like every deed and thought, That Thy love most true and kind All our hearts henceforth may bind; None may look behind him now, Who to Christ hath pledged his vow; Jesus leads, no longer stand, Follow me, is His command. Draw me up, my God, from hence, Raise me high o'er earth and sense, That I lose not Thee from sight, Nor in life nor death, my Light! In my soul's most deep recess Let me cherish holiness, Not for show or human praise, But for Thy sake, all my days. Grant me, Lord, my heart's desire, So my course to run nor tire, That my practised soul may prove What Thy meekness, what Thy love. Grant me here to trust Thy grace, There with joy to see Thy face, This in time my portion be, That through all eternity!

Light of the Gentile world!

Author: Johann Franck; Catherine Winkworth Meter: 6.6.8.6 Appears in 37 hymnals Lyrics: Light of the Gentile world! Thy people's joy and love! Drawn by Thy Spirit we are come Thy presence, Lord, to prove. Within Thy temple walls We wait with earnest mind, As Simeon waited long of old His Saviour God to find. Thou wilt be found of us, O Lord, in every place, Where Thou hast promised faithfully We should behold Thy face. Thou yet dost suffer us, Who oft are gathered here, To bear Thee in the arms of faith As once that aged seer. Be Thou our bliss, our light Shining 'mid pain and loss, Our Sun of strength in time of fear, The glory round our cross; A glow in sinking hearts, A sunbeam in distress, Physician, nurse, in sickness' hours, In death our happiness. Oh let us, Lord, prevail With Simeon at the last; May we take up his dying song When life is waning fast! "Let me depart in peace, Since that mine aged eyes Have seen the Saviour here on earth, Have seen His day arise." Yes, with the eye of faith My Jesus I behold; No foe can rob me of my Lord, Though fierce his threats and bold. I dwell within Thy heart, Thou dost in mine abide, Not sorrow, pain nor death itself, Can tear me from Thy side.

Yes, there remaineth yet a rest!

Author: Kunth; Catherine Winkworth Meter: 8.8.8.8.8.8.8.8.8.8 Appears in 9 hymnals Lyrics: Yes, there remaineth yet a rest! Arise, sad heart, who now dost pine, By heavy care and pain opprest, On whom no sun of joy can shine; Look to the Lamb! in yon bright fields Thou'lt know the joy His presence yields; Cast off thy load and thither haste; Soon shalt thou fight and bleed no more, Soon, soon thy weary course be o'er, And deep the rest thou then shalt taste: The rest appointed thee of God, The rest that nought shall break or move, That ere this earth by man was trod Was set apart for thee by Love. Our Saviour gave His life to win This rest for thee; oh enter in! Here how His voice sounds far and wide: Ye weary souls, no more delay, Nor loiter faithless by the way, Here in my peace and rest abide! Ye heavy-laden, come to Him! Ye who are bent with many a load, Come from your prisons drear and dim, Toil not thus sadly on your road! Ye've borne the burden of the day, And hear ye not your Saviour say, I am your refuge and your rest? His children ye, of heavenly birth, Howe'er may rage sin, hell, or earth, Here are ye safe, here calmly blest. Yonder in joy the sheaves we bring, Whose seed was sown on earth in tears; There in our Father's house we sing The song too sweet for mortal ears. Sorrow and sighing all are past, And pain and death are fled at last, There with the Lamb of God we dwell, He leads us to the crystal river, He wipes away all tears for ever; What there is ours no tongue can tell. Hunger nor thirst can pain us there, The time of recompense is come, Nor cold nor scorching heat we bear, Safe sheltered in our Saviour's home. The Lamb is in the midst; and those Who followed Him through shame and woes, Are crowned with honour, joy, and peace. The dry bones gather life again, One Sabbath over all shall reign, Wherein all toil and labour cease. There is untroubled calm and light, No gnawing care shall mar our rest; Ye weary, heed this word aright, Come, lean upon your Saviour's breast. Fain would I linger here no more, Fain to yon happier world upsoar, And join that bright expectant band. Oh raise, my soul, the joyful song That rings through yon triumphant throng; Thy perfect rest is nigh at hand.

Yea my spirit fain would sink

Author: Winkler Meter: 7.7.7.7.7.7 Appears in 4 hymnals Lyrics: Yea my spirit fain would sink In Thy heart and hands, my God, Waiting till Thou show the end Of the ways she here hath trod; Stripped of self, how calm her rest On her loving Father's breast! And my soul repineth not, Well content whate'er befall; Murmurs, wishes, of self-will, They are slain and vanquished all, Restless thoughts, that fret and crave, Slumber in her Saviour's grave. And my soul is free from care, For her thoughts from all things cease That can pierce like sharpest thorns Wounding sore the inner peace. He who made her careth well, She but seeks in peace to dwell. And my soul despaireth not, Loving God amid her woe; Grief that wrings and breaks the heart Only they who hate Him know: They who love Him still possess Comfort in their worst distress. And my soul complaineth not, For she knows not pain or fear, Clinging to her God in faith, Trusting though He slay her here. 'Tis when flesh and blood repine, Son of joy, Thou canst not shine. Thus my soul before her God Lieth still, nor speaketh more, Conqueror thus o'er pain and wrong, That once smote her to the core; Like a silent ocean, bright With her God's great praise and light.

Shall I not sing praise to Thee

Author: Paul Gerhardt; Catherine Winkworth Meter: 7.7.7.7.7.7.7.7.7.7 Appears in 6 hymnals Lyrics: Shall I not sing praise to Thee, Shall I not give thanks, O Lord? Since for us in all I see How Thou keepest watch and ward; How the truest tenderest love Ever fills Thy heart, my God, Helping, cheering, on their road, All who in Thy service move. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. As the eagle o'er her nest Spreads her sheltering wings abroad, So from all that would molest, Doth Thine arm defend me, Lord; From my youth up e'en till now Of the being Thou didst give, And the earthly life I live, Faithful Guardian still wert Thou. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. Nay, He kept not back His Son, But hath given Him for our good, And our safety He hath won By the shedding of His blood. O Thou fathomless abyss! My weak powers but strive in vain, Knowledge of Thy depths to gain, Man knows not such love as this. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. And His Spirit, blessed Guide, In His holy Word doth teach, How on earth we may abide, So that heaven at last we reach; Every longing heart doth fill With the pure light of faith, That can break the bonds of death, And control the powers of ill. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. Truly hath He cared indeed For my soul's health, and no less If my body suffer need, Will He help in my distress. When my strength and courage fail, When my powers can do no more, Doth my God such strength outpour, That I rise up and prevail. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. All the hosts of heaven and earth, Hath He placed at my command, Nowhere is there lack or dearth, But I find in sea and land All things ordered for my wants, Living things in fields and woods, On the heights or in the floods, And the earth brings forth her plants. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. When I sleep my Guardian wakes, And revives my wearied mind; Every morning on me breaks With some mark of love most kind; Had my God not stood my Friend, Had His countenance not been Here my guide, I had not seen Many a trial reach its end. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. Often hath my crafty Foe Threatened to bring down on me Many a sore and heavy woe, From which yet my life is free; For the angel whom God sends, Wards off every threatened hurt, Every evil doth avert That mine Enemy intends. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. As a father ne'er withdraws From a child his all of love, Though it often break his laws, Though it careless, wilful, prove: Even so my loving Lord Doth my faults with pity see, With His rod He chastens me, Not avenging with His sword. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. When His strokes upon me light, Bitterly I feel their smart, Yet are they, if seen aright, Tokens that my Father's heart Yearns to bring me back again Through these crosses to His fold, From the world that fain would hold Soul and body in its chain. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. All my life I still have found, And I will forget it never, Every sorrow hath its bound, And no cross endures for ever. After all the winter's snows Comes sweet summer back again, Patient souls ne'er wait in vain, Joy is given for all their woes. All things else have but their day, God's love only lasts for aye. Since then neither change nor end In Thy love can e'er have place, Father! I beseech Thee send Unto me Thy loving grace. Help Thy feeble child, and give Strength to serve Thee day and night, Loving Thee with all my might, While on earth I yet must live; So shall I when Time is o'er, Praise and love Thee evermore.

Praise and thanks to Thee be sung

Author: Catherine Winkworth; Rist Meter: 7.7.7.7.7.7.7.7.7.7 Appears in 4 hymnals Lyrics: Praise and thanks to Thee be sung, Mighty God, in sweetest tone! Lo! from every land and tongue, Nations gather round Thy Throne, Praising Thee, that Thou dost send, Daily from Thy Heaven above, Angel-messengers of love, Who Thy threatened Church defend, Who can offer worthily, Lord of angels, praise to Thee! 'Tis your office, Spirits bright, still to guard us night and day, And before your heavenly might, Powers of darkness flee away; Ever doth your unseen host Camp around us, and avert All that seeks to do us hurt, Curling Satan's malice most. Lord, who then can worthily For such goodness honour Thee! And ye come on ready wing, When we drift toward sheer despair, Seeing nought where we might cling, Suddenly, lo, ye are there! And the wearied heart grows strong, As an angel strengthened Him, Fainting in the garden dim, 'Neath the world's vast woe and wrong. Lord, who then can worthily For such mercy honour Thee! Right and seemly is it then We should glory, that our God Hath such honour put on men, That He sends o'er earth abroad Princes of the realm above, Champions, who by day and night, Shield us with His holy might; Come, behold how great His love! Lord, who then can worthily For such favour honour Thee! Praise and thanks to Thee be sung, Mighty God, in sweetest tone. Lo! from every land and tongue, Nations gather round Thy throne, Praising Thee that Thou dost send, Hourly from Thy glorious sphere, Angels down to help us here, And Thy threatened Church defend. Let us henceforth worthily, Lord of angels, honour Thee.