« Prev Of the Last Day Next »


Die Zeit ist nunmehr nah



The time is very near

When, Lord, Thou wilt be here

The signs whereof Thou’st spoken

Thine advent should betoken,

We’ve seen them oft fulfilling

In number beyond telling.

What shall I do then, Lord?

But rest upon Thy word,

The promise Thou hast given

That Thou wilt come from heaven,

Me from the grave deliver

And from all woe for ever.

Ah! Jesus Christ, how fair

Wilt be my portion there!

The welcome Thou’lt address me,

Thy glances, how they’ll bless me,

When I the earth forsaking,

My flight to Thee am taking.

Ah! what will be the word

Thou’lt speak, my Shepherd Lord!

What will be then Thy greeting,

Me and my brethren meeting?

Thy members Thou wilt own us,

And near Thyself enthrone us.

And in that blessèd hour,

How shall I have the pow’r

Mine eyelids dry of keeping,

How tears of joy from weeping

Refrain, that flowing over

My cheeks, like floods would cover?

And what a beauteous light

Will from Thy face so bright

Beam on me, then in heaven,

When sight of Thee is given,

Thy goodness then me filling,

Joy will my breast be swelling.

I’ll see then and adore

Thy body bruisèd sore,

Whereon our faith is founded,

The prints of nails that wounded

Thy hands and feet be greeting,

Thy gaze with rapture meeting.

Thou, Lord, alone dost know

The joys so pure that flow

In life’s unfailing river

In paradise for ever,

Thou can’st portray, and show them:

By faith alone I know them.

What I’ve believ’d stands sure,

Remaineth aye secure;

My part the wealth surpasseth;

The richest here amasseth;

All other wealth decayeth

My portion ever stayeth.

My God, my fairest Part!

How will my bounding heart

With joy be overflowing,

Praise evermore renewing,

When through the door of heaven

By Thee is entrance given?

Thou’lt say, “Come, taste and see,

Oh! child, belov’d by me,

Come, taste the gifts so precious

I and my Father gracious

Have to bestow, come hither,

In pleasure bask for ever.”

Alas! thou world so poor!

Of wealth, what is thy store?

Mean is it to be holden,

Compar’d with all the golden

Crowns and thrones Jesus placeth

For whom He loves and graceth.

Here is the angel’s home,

Bless’d spirits hither come,

Here nought is heard but singing,

Nought seen but joy up-springing,

No cross, no death, no sorrow,

No parting on the morrow.

Hold! hold! my sense so weak!

What dost thou think and speak,

What’s fathomless, art sounding?

What’s measureless, art bounding?

Here must man’s wit be bending

The eloquent be ending.

Lord! I delight in Thee,

Thou ne’er shalt go from me,

Thy hand in bounty giveth

More than my heart conceiveth,

Or I can e’er be counting,

So high Thy mercy’s mounting.

How sad, O Lord, am I,

Until I from on high

See Thee in glory hither

Come, Thine own to deliver,

Wert Thou but now revealing

Thyself! my wish fulfilling!

The time is known to Thee;

It best becometh me

To be prepar’d for going,

And all things so be doing,

That every moment even

My heart may be in Heaven.

This grant, Lord, and me bless.

That so Thy truth and grace

May keep me ever waking,

That Thy day not o’ertaking

Me unawares, affright me,

But may, O Lord! delight me.

« Prev Of the Last Day Next »


| Define | Popups: Login | Register | Prev Next | Help |