Scripture Verse

When a few years are come, then I shall go the way whence I shall not return. Job 16:22

Introduction

portrait
Catherine Winkworth (1827–1878)

Words: Au­gust H. Francke, Schrifft­mäs­si­ge An­weis­ung Recht und Gott Wol­ge­fäll­ig zu Be­ten (Hal­le, Ger­ma­ny: 1695), page 534 (Gott­lob ein Schritt zur Ewig­keit). Trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to En­glish by Ca­the­rine Wink­worth, Ly­ra Ger­ma­ni­ca (Lon­don & New York: George Newnes & Charles Scrib­ner’s Sons, 1855), pag­es 206–08.

Music: Go­ma Lo­well Ma­son, 1837. Adapt­ed by Ri­chard W. Ad­ams, Ju­ly 23, 2019 (pub­lic do­main) (🔊 pdf nwc).

portrait
August H. Francke
1663–1727

Composed on his jour­ney to Gotha af­ter his un­just ex­pul­sion from Er­furt; as we are told in the or­a­tion de­liv­ered at his grave, in the full ex­pe­ri­ence of the un­speak­a­ble con­so­la­tions of the Ho­ly Spi­rit.

Catherine Winkworth, 1855

Lyrics

Thank God that to­wards eter­ni­ty
Another step is won!
O longing turns my heart to Thee
As time flows slow­ly on,
Thou Foun­tain whence my life is born,
Whence those rich streams of grace are drawn
That through my be­ing run!

I count the hours, the days, the years,
That stretch in te­di­ous line,
Until, O Life, that hour ap­pears,
When, at Thy touch divine,
Whate’er is mor­tal now in me
Shall be con­sumed for aye in Thee,
And death­less life be mine.

So glows Thy love with­in this frame,
That, touched with keen­est fire,
My whole soul kin­dles in the flame
Of one in­tense de­sire,
To be in Thee, and Thou in me,
And e’en while yet on earth to be
Still press­ing clos­er, nigh­er!

Oh that I soon might Thee be­hold!
I count the mo­ments o’er;
Ah come, ere yet my heart grows cold
And can­not call Thee more!
Come in Thy glo­ry, for Thy bride
Hath girt her for the ho­ly-tide,
And wait­eth at the door.

And since Thy Spi­rit sheds abroad
The oil of grace in me,
And Thou art in­ly near me, Lord,
And I am lost in Thee,
So shines in me the liv­ing Light,
And stead­fast burns my lamp and bright,
To greet Thee joy­ous­ly.

Come! is the voice, then, of Thy bride,
She loud­ly prays Thee come!
With faith­ful heart she long hath cried,
Come quick­ly, Je­sus, come!
Come, O my Bride­groom, Lamb of God,
Thou know­est I am Thine, my Lord;
Come down and take me home.

Yet be the hour that none can tell
Left whol­ly to Thy choice,
Although I know Thou lov’st it well,
That I with heart and voice
Should bid Thee come, and from this day
Care but to meet Thee on Thy way,
And at Thy sight re­joice!

I joy that from Thy love divine
No pow­er can part me now,
That I may dare to call Thee mine,
My friend, my Lord, avow,
That I, O Prince of Life, shall be
Made whol­ly one in Heav’n with Thee,
My por­tion, Lord, art Thou!

And there­fore do my thanks o’er­flow,
That one more year is gone,
And of this time, so poor, so slow,
Another step is won;
And, with a heart that may not wait,
Toward yon­der dist­ant gold­en gate
I jour­ney glad­ly on.

And when the wear­ied hands grow weak,
And wear­ied knees give way,
To sink­ing faith, O quick­ly speak,
And make Thine arm my stay;
That so my heart drink in new strength,
And I speed on, nor feel the length
Nor steep­ness of the way.

Then on, my soul, with fear­less faith,
Let naught thy ter­ror move;
Nor aught that earth­ly plea­sure saith
E’er tempt thy steps to rove;
If slow thy course seem o’er the waste,
Mount up­wards with the eagles’ haste,
On wings of tire­less love.

O Je­sus, all my soul hath flown
Already up to Thee,
For Thou, in whom is love alone,
Hast whol­ly con­quered me.
Farewell ye phan­toms, day and year,
Eternity is round me here,
Since, Lord, I live in Thee.