From the German.
Thy hand, O God, on me bestoweth
So many blessings full and free,
That my whole soul with joy o’erfloweth,
And poureth out glad praise to Thee.
Yet poor and cold my praise compared
With this which Christ hath taught my heart—
This truth which, risen, He declared,
That Thou, O God, my Father art.
Though by my friends I be forsaken,
And I go traveling on alone,
Though health and strength are from me taken,
And all earth’s joys from me are gone,
Yet have I still this priceless treasure,
Which Christ hides deep within my heart—
Its value I can never measure—
That Thou, O God, my Father art.
I have Thyself! Naught further needing,
I rest in peace while here I roam;
The road along which Thou art leading,
However rough, aye tends to home.
Teach me to walk along it near Thee,
Thy love controlling all my heart,
With evermore this truth to cheer me,
That Thou, O God, my Father art.
A. L. M.