Haste to your heavenly Father's throne,
And sweet refreshment find.
4 His goodness stands approved,
Down to the present day:
I'll drop my burden at His feet,
And bear a song away.
LUTHER'S HYMN. 8,7,8,7,8, 8, 7. Jos. KLUG'S GESANGBUCH, WITTENBERG. 1535.
1. Great God, what do I see and hear? The end of things cre at
The judge of man-kind doth ap- pear On clouds of glory seat - ed;
The trum-pet sounds; the graves re- store
2 The dead in Christ shall first arise,
And greet th'archangel's warning,
To meet the Saviour in the skies,
On this auspicious morning:
No gloomy fears their souls dismay
His presence sheds eternal day
On those prepared to meet Him.
3 Far over space, to distant spheres,
The lightnings are prevailing;
Th'ungodly rise, and all their tears
And sighs are unavailing:
The day of grace is past and gone;
Trembling they stand before the throne,
And unprepared to meet Him.
4 Stay, fancy, stay, and close thy wings,
Repress thy flight to daring;
One wondrous sight my comfort brings,
The Judge my nature wearing.
Beneath His cross I view the day
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
And thus prepare to meet Him.
B. Ringwaldt. 1565. Alt. W. B. Collyer. 1812.
(The above hymn and tune are often erroneously attributed to Luther.-The hymn is an imitation of the well-known Latin hymn "Dies irae, dies illa," by Thomas of Celano, who died c. 1255.)
2 What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered
Was all for sinners' gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here, I fall, my Saviour!
'Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor,
Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.
3 The joy can ne'er be spoken,
Above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken
I thus with safety hide.
My Lord of life, desiring
Thy glory now to see,
Beside the cross expiring,
I'd breathe my soul to Thee.
4 What language shall I borrow,
To thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
Oh make me Thine forever;
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never,
Outlive my love to Thee.
5 And when I am departing,
Oh, part not Thou from me;
When mortal pangs are darting,
Come, Lord, and set me free;
And when my heart must languish
Amidst the final throe,
Release me from mine anguish,
By Thine own pain and woe.
6 Be near me when I'm dying,
Oh, show Thy cross to me;
And for my succor flying,
Come, Lord, and set me free.
These eyes, new faith receiving,
From Jesus shall not move;
For he, who dies believing,
Dies safely through Thy love.
Bernard of Clairvaux. 1100. Tr. P. Gerhardt. 1666
J. W. Alexander. 1830. Ab.
Praise God, from whom all bless-ings flow; Praise Him, all crea-tures here be-low;
Praise Him a-bove, ye heav'n-ly host; Praise Fa-ther, Son, and Ho-ly Ghost. A - men.
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