The best time of the year is mine, When all the little birds combine To sing until the earth and air Are filled with sweet sounds everywhere; And most the tender nightingale Makes joyful every wood and dale, Singing her love-song o'er and o'er, For which we thank her evermore. But yet more thanks are due from us To the dear Lord who made her thus, A singer apt to touch the heart, Mistress of all my dearest art. To God she sings by night and day, Unwearied, praising Him alway; Him I, too, laud in every song, To whom all thanks and praise belong. _Translation by_ CATHARINE WINKWORTH. A Warning by Dr. Martin Luther. Viel falscher Meister itzt Lieder tichten Sihe dich fuer und lern sie recht richten Wo Gott hin bawet sein Kirch und sein wort Da will der Cenfel sein mit trug und mord. _Wittenberg,_ 1543; _Leipzig,_ 1545 False masters now abound, who songs indite; Beware of them, and learn to judge them right: Where God builds up his Church and Word, hard by Satan is found with murder and a lie. _Translation by_ R. MASSIE I. Nun freut euch, lieben Christen g'mein. Dear Christians, one and all rejoice. _A Song of Thanksgiving for the great Benefits which God in Christ has mainifested to us._ FIRST MELODY, _Wittenberg,_ 1524. _Harmony by_ H. SCHEIN, 1627. SECOND MELODY, _Wittenberg,_ 1535. _Harmony by_ M. PRAETORIUS, 1610. 1. Dear Christians, one and all rejoice, With exultation springing, And with united heart and voice And holy rapture singing, Proclaim the wonders God hath done, How his right arm the victory won; Right dearly it hath cost him. 2. Fast bound in Satan's chains I lay, Death brooded darkly o'er me; Sin was my torment night and day, Therein my mother bore me. Deeper and deeper still I fell, Life was become a living hell, So firmly sin possessed me. 3. My good works could avail me naught, For they with sin were stained; Free-will against God's judgment fought, And dead to good remained. Grief drove me to despair, and I Had nothing left me but to die, To hell I fast was sinking. 4. God saw, in his eternal grace, My sorrow out of measure; He thought upon his tenderness- To save was his good pleasure. He turn'd to me a Father's heart- Not small the cost - to heal my smart He have his best and dearest. 5. He spake to his beloved Son: 'Tis time to take compassion; Then go, bright jewel of my crown, And bring to man salvation; From sin and sorrow set him free, Slay bitter death for him, that he May live with thee forever. 6. The Son delighted to obey, And born of Virgin mother, Awhile on this low earth did stay That he might be my brother. His mighty power he hidden bore, A servant's form like mine he wore, To bind the devil captive. 7. To me he spake: cling fast to me, Thou'lt win a triumph worthy; I wholly give myself for thee; I strive and wrestle for thee; For I am thine, thou mine also; And where I am thou art. The foe Shall never more divide us.