Paul Gerhardt's Spiritual Songs Part 31

It is heav'n's golden door to me, The fiery car G.o.d sendeth, Wherein my spirit speedily To th' angel choir ascendeth, When G.o.d shall say "Thy working day Of life below now endeth."

O sweetest joy, O blessed 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; G.o.d 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 endured.

'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 G.o.d'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 blessed 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 pa.s.s 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 G.o.d doth mean still better; Great love doth in my bosom dwell, In G.o.d there dwelleth greater.

I am a father, nothing more, Of fathers G.o.d's the crown and pow'r, The fountain who is giving Their being to all living.

I long and yearn for my dear son; G.o.d, 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!

G.o.d 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 G.o.d no ill can be, Mischance, or sickness never, No care, no want, no oversight, With G.o.d no sorrow e'er can blight; Whom G.o.d 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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d'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 blessed 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 G.o.d 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.

n.o.ble 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.

G.o.d 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, G.o.d, the giver of all good, Never such a grievous load Of affliction had ordain'd thee, As dishearten'd oft and pain'd thee.