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Christian Singers Of Germany by Catherine Winkworth

THE GROUND OF ALL THINGS.

8,8,8,8,8,8,8,8,8

Abgrund wesentlicher Liebe

Philip Frederick Hiller

trans. by Catherine Winkworth, 1869

Thou fathomless Abyss of Love,

O God, Eternal highest Good!

Whom doth some wondrous impulse move

To pour Thy mercies like a flood

Around our life; Thou Sea of Grace,

Fountain of comfort ever nigh,

Healer of souls that wounded lie;

Hearken, my spirit cries to Thee,

O very Love, caust Thou love me?

O bounteous Being! let me praise

And thank Thee from my spirit's ground;

Thy wisdom far transcends our gaze,

Thy loving-kindness hath no bound;

How tender to the sin-defiled,

How great to us who are so small,

How fatherly and true to all,

Deigning to count the least thy child:

Hearken, my spirit cries to Thee,

O mighty Love, wilt Thou love me?

My prayers, my longings Thou dost hear,

And for my wants dost Thou provide,

Thou countest every sigh and tear,

No sorrow from Thine eye can hide,

Thou sendest it, and know'st it well;

From Thee comes pain and its relief,

Thou triest me with care and grief,

That faith and love may in me dwell;

And so my spirit cries to Thee,

O tender Love, now love Thou me!

And Thou dost all our sins forgive,

Thy Word hath promised grace and aid,

Solace and light, that we should live

Of death and sin no more afraid;

Thou givest us Thy dearest Son,

Made of our race, through love supreme,

To bear our burden and redeem

The souls that so much ill had done;

And so my spirit cries to Thee,

O wondrous Love, canst Thou love me?

The love of Christ shall bid me feel

That He hath made me all His own;

I hear that pleading love's appeal

Whene'er His gospel is made known;

And His example here on earth

Shall be my rule in all I do,

In utmost pain my pattern true,

My Guide in time of wealth or dearth;

Hearken, my spirit cries to Thee,

O holy Love, dwell Thou in me!

That Love hath suffered and was slain

To make my death a thing of nought;

And rose to glorious life again,

That I might rise in heart and thought

And hath ascended up on high,

To make for me an open way

To heaven itself, where day by day

Our faith and hope may upwards fly;

Hearken, my spirit cries to Thee,

O Son of Love, now love Thou me!

And Thou Thy Spirit dost bestow

To hallow all our life to Thee,

To pour clear light on all below,

And give the blinded power to see;

Thou Comforter from age to age

Of all the weary, all who weep;

Whose peace within us true and deep

Is earnest of our heritage:

Hearken, my spirit cries to Thee,

Spirit of Love, O love Thou me!

So doth Thy boundless Love embrace

My life, my death, and life to come;

O let me know it in that place

Where only is our proper home!

Thy Love is life and endless rest:

There is no good to add to this,

In earth or heaven our only bliss

Is by Thy Love to be possest:

Therefore my spirit cries to Thee,

O Blessed Love, dwell Thou in me!

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