Scripture Verse

The eyes of all wait upon Thee; and Thou givest them their meat in due season. Psalm 145:15


Hartnack O. K. Zinck (1746–1832)

Words: Tho­mas H. Kin­go, 1699, cento (Nu rin­der So­len op). Trans­lat­ed from Da­nish to Eng­lish by Paul C. Paul­sen cir­ca 1925, alt.

Music: Nu Rin­der So­len Op Hart­nack O. K. Zinck, in the Ko­ral­bog, 1801 (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a bet­ter pic­ture of Zinck,

Thomas H. Kingo (1634–1703)



The sun aris­es now,
In light and glo­ry
And gilds the rug­ged brow
Of mount­ains hoa­ry.
Be glad, my soul, and lift
Thy voice in sing­ing.
To God from earth be­low,
Thy heart with joy aglow
And prais­es ring­ing.

Like count­less grains of sand,
Beyond all mea­sure,
And wide as sea and land
Is Hea­ven’s trea­sure
Of grace which Christ, my Lord,
Each day be­stow­eth,
Which, like re­fresh­ing rain,
Into my soul again
Each morn­ing flow­eth.

Keep Thou my soul to­day
From sin and blind­ness;
Surround me on my way
With lov­ing-kind­ness
And fill my heart, O God,
With joy from Hea­ven;
I then shall ask no more
Than what Thou hast of yore
In wisdom giv­en.

Thou know­est best my needs,
My sighs Thou heed­est;
Thy hand Thy child­ren feeds,
Thine own Thou lead­est.
What should I more de­sire,
With Thee de­cid­ing
The course that I must take,
Than fol­low in the wake
Where Thou art guid­ing?