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.
|First Line:||Yea my spirit fain would sink|
|Title:||Yea my spirit fain would sink|
|German Title:||Meine Seele senket sich|