Zitternd freu' ich mich Trembling I rejoice Nor should dare to believe, Were not the Promiser God the Eternal! For I know it, I feel it, I am a sinner! I must know it, and feel it, E'en had not light from God Streamed on my conscience, and shown My soul to herself, Clearly unveiling Her form that sin hath wounded and defaced. With low-bended knee, With deep adoring amazement, I rejoice: I shall behold Him! Soul, ever drawing nearer the body's grave, Thyself immortal, Pursue this all-divinest thought Which thy thought can conceive. Not that thou darest To enter yet into the holiest place! Within that sanctuary dwell Joys unconceived, unpraised, unsung as yet. Only from far I hail one mild and softened beam, Softened to let me live; One gleam that earthly darkness tempers here, Of glory I may see. How great the Prophet was who dared implore, "If I have found grace in Thy sight, now let me Behold Thy glory!" So to the Infinite might pray, and find a hearing! To the land of Golgotha came he not, An earlier death avenged the fault That once, but once, his God he trusted not; How great the Prophet shows this very doom! Him the Father concealed in a deep gloom of the mountain, When before a mortal passed the Glory of the Son; When the trumpet was silent on Sinai And the voice of the thunder, as God spake of God. No longer wrapt in night, But in a daylight's splendour That needs no shadows to enhance its brightness, He now beholds, so we believe, for ages already Far o'er the limits of Time, Unconscious of moments that ever Are followed by moments, -- he gazes On Thee, O Holy, Holy, Holy Lord! Most nameless delight of my soul, Thought of the Vision to come, Thou art my mighty Reliance, Thou art the Rock, whereon I stand and gaze up to heaven, When the terrors of Sin And the terrors of Death Fearfully threaten To whelm me below! Upon this Rock, O Thou Whom now the dead in God behold, Let me stand when the power Of Death irresistibly hems me around! Arise, O my soul, above this mortality, Look up and gaze, and thou wilt behold The Father's Brightness Beam from the Face of Jesus Christ. Hosanna! Hosanna! the fulness of the Godhead Dwells in the Man Jesus Christ! Scarce ringeth the Cherubims' harp here, it quivers, Scarce sound on their voices, they tremble, they tremble! Hosanna! Hosanna! The Godhead in fulness Dwells in the Man Jesus Christ. Even then, when one of the beams from God to our world Illumined more clearly the prophecy, when 'twas fulfilled, When He was despised and afflicted As no son of man had been despised and afflicted before, E'en then, mortals could not discern, But the Cherubim saw The Father's Brightness In the countenance of the Son. I see, I see him, that witness, Seven long appalling midnights Hath he doubted, and painfully wrestled With the saddest of sorrows. I see him! To him appeareth the Risen One, He layeth his hands in the print of the wounds, Heaven and earth are vanishing round him: He beholds the Father's Brightness in the Face of the Son, I hear, I hear him! he cries -- Heaven and earth are vanishing round him -- he cries: My Lord and my God! |