Words: , in Praxis Pietatis Melica, by , 3rd edition, 1648 (O du allersüsste Freude); translated from German to English by , Lyra Germanica: Second Series: The Christian Life (London: Longman, Green, Longman, and Roberts, 1863). Music: St. George’s Windsor, , 1858. |
Sweetest joy the soul can know,
Fairest Light was ever shed,
Who alike in joy or woe,
Leavest none unvisited;
Spirit of the Highest God,
Lord from Whom is life bestowed,
Who upholdest everything,
Hear me, hear me, while I sing!
For the noblest gift Thou art
That a soul e’er sought or won,
Have I wished Thee to my heart,
Then my wishing all is done;
Ah then yield Thee, nor refuse
Here to dwell, for Thou didst choose
This my heart, from e’en its birth,
For Thy temple here on earth.
Thou art shed like gentlest showers
From the Father and the Son,
Bringest to this earth of ours
Purest blessing from their throne;
Suffer then, O noble Guest,
That rich gift by Thee possest,
Which Thou givest at Thy will
All my soul and flesh to fill.
Thou art wise, before Thee stand
Hidden things unveiled to Thee,
Countest up the grains of sand,
Fathomest the deepest sea,
And Thou knowest well how blind,
Dark and crooked is my mind;
Give me wisdom, in Thy light
Let me please my God aright.
Thou art holy, enterest in
Where pure hearts Thy coming wait,
But Thou fleest shame and sin,
Craft and falsehood Thou dost hate;
Wash me then, O Well of grace,
Every stain and spot efface,
Let me flee what Thou dost flee,
Grant me what Thou lov’st to see.
Thou art loving, hatest strife,
As a lamb of patient mood,
Calm through all our restless life,
E’en to sinners kind and good;
Grant me too this noble mind,
To be calm and true and kind,
Loving every friend or foe,
Grieving none whom Thou dost know.
Well contented is my heart,
If but Thou reject me not;
If but Thou wilt ne’er depart,
I am blest whate’er my lot;
Thine for ever make me now,
And to Thee, my Lord, I vow
Here and yonder to employ
Every power for Thee with joy.
Be my help when danger’s nigh,
When I sink hold Thou me up,
Be my life when I must die,
In the grave be Thou my hope;
Bring me when I rise again
To the land that knows no pain,
Where Thy followers from Thy stream
Drink for ever joys supreme.