Well for him who all things losing,
E'en himself doth count as nought,
Still the one thing needful choosing
That with all true bliss is fraught!

Well for him who nothing knoweth
But his God, whose boundless love
Makes the heart wherein it gloweth,
Calm and pure as saints above!

Well for him who all forsaking
Walketh not in shadows vain,
But the path of peace is taking
Through this vale of tears and pain!

Oh that we our hearts might sever
From earth's tempting vanities,
Fixing them on Him for ever
In whom all our fulness lies!

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Oh that we might Him discover
Whom with longing love we've sought,
Joining us to Him for ever,
For without Him all is nought!

Oh that ne'er our eyes might wander
From our God, so might we cease
Ever o'er our sins to ponder,
And our conscience be at peace!

Thou abyss of love and goodness,
Draw us by Thy cross to Thee,
That our senses, soul, and spirit
Ever one with Christ may be!

Lyra Germanica: The Christian Year, 1861