Though devils all endeavor, And fain would work defeat, Beyond all doubt soever The Lord will not retreat. Whatever He proposes, Whate'er He takes in hand, Whene'er His set time closes Will come to pass as planned. Hope on, poor soul, and bravely; Hope on, no more perplexed. God from those deeps will save thee Where thou by griefs art vexed. With grace will He secure thee; But wait His time as thine, And thou wilt see most surely The sun of gladness shine. Up! Up! Away with grieving. Bid anxious fret begone, Thy heart its sadness leaving, Its woes ne'er dwelt upon. Though thou, who dost not govern, Canst naught at all compel, God sits enthroned and sov'reign And doeth all things well. Let Him, a Ruler knowing, Arrange for thee, and do. Thou'lt see with wonder growing How He will bring thee through; And how, by means most seemly, By counsels wondrous deep, He bears Himself supremely In works which thou dost weep. True, He awhile will tarry, His comforting delayed, And seem Himself to carry As minded not to aid; May seem to turn Him from thee, Nor e'en, though o'er and o'er Thy cares and griefs o'ercome thee To ask about thee more. But though thou seem neglected, And yet believing be, When least by thee expected Will He deliver thee. Thy heart will He deliver From all its burd'ning woe Which thou, unharmed however, Hast carried hitherto. And well with thee thereafter, Child of the Faithful, found Midst praise and thanks and laughter, A conqueror, and crowned. The palms in hand before him, Which God Himself bestows, With glad songs thou'lt adore Him Who turned aside thy woes. Make end, O Lord, good ending To all our woes ere long. With strength on us attending, Our hands and feet make strong. Thy faithful care bestowing, Till death, our ways attend; Then surely, heavenward going Our ways in heaven will end. Paul Gerhardt, 1656. Tr. A. Ramsey, 1916. Alle Menschen muessen sterben. Man is but a transient being And a pilgrim here below, Like a shadow, swiftly fleeing, Like the days that come and go. He must pass through death's dark portal, To obtain that life immortal Which on yonder blissful shore Blooms in glory evermore. So I willingly surrender To the Lord my fleeting breath, Knowing that His love so tender Will allay all fear of death. In His wounds there is redemption And His death assures exemption From the punishment of sin And the sense of guilt within.