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SermonIndex.net : Christian Books : UP! UP! MY HEART WITH GLADNESS.

Paul Gerhardts Spiritual Songs by Paul Gerhardt

UP! UP! MY HEART WITH GLADNESS.

Auf, Auf, mein Herz mit Freuden

7,6,7,6,6,6,6,6

Up! up! my heart with gladness,

See what to-day is done!

How after gloom and sadness

Comes forth the glorious Sun!

My Saviour there was laid

Where our bed must be made,

When to the realms of light

Our spirit wings its flight.

They in the grave did sink Him,

The foe held jubilee;

Before he can bethink him,

Lo! Christ again is free.

And victory He cries,

And waving tow'rds the skies

His banner, while the field

Is by the Hero held!

Upon the grave is standing

The Hero looking round;

The foe, no more withstanding,

His weapons on the ground

Throws down, his hellish pow'r

To Christ must he give o'er,

And to the Victor's bands

Must yield his feet and hands.

A sight it is to gladden

And fill the heart with glee,

No more affright or sadden

Shall aught, or take from me

My trust or fortitude,

Or any precious good

The Saviour bought for me

In sov'reign love and free.

Hell and its bands can never

Hurt e'en a single hair,

Sin can I mock at ever,

Safe am I everywhere.

The mighty pow'r of death

Is my regard beneath;

It is a pow'rless form,

Howe'er it rage and storm.

The world my laughter ever

Moves, though it rage amain,

It rages, but can never

Do ill, its work is vain.

No trouble troubles me,

My heart from care is free,

Misfortune is my prize,

The night my fair sunrise.

I cleave, and cleave shall ever,

To Christ, a member true,

Shall part from my Head never,

Whate'er He passes through;

He treads the world beneath

His feet, and conquers death

And hell, and breaks sin's thrall;

I'm with Him through it all.

To halls of heav'nly splendour

With Him I penetrate;

And trouble ne'er may hinder

Nor make me hesitate.

What will, may angry be,

My Head accepteth me,

My Saviour is my Shield,

By Him all rage is still'd.

He to the gates me leadeth

Of yon fair realms of light,

Whereon the pilgrim readeth,

In golden letters bright:

|Who's there despised with me,

Here with me crown'd shall be;

Who there with me shall die,

Here's raised with me on high!|

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