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Die Seele ruht in Jesu Armen

Allendorf. 1725.

trans. by Catherine Winkworth, 1855

Now rests her soul in Jesu's arms,

Her body in the grave sleeps well,

His heart her death-chilled heart re-warms,

And rest more deep than tongue can tell,

Her few brief hours of conflict passed,--

She finds with Christ, her Friend, at last;

She bathes in tranquil seas of peace,

God wipes away her tears, she feels

New life that all her languor heals,

The glory of the Lamb she sees.

She hath escaped all danger now,

Her pain and sighing all are fled;

The crown of joy is on her brow,

Eternal glories o'er her shed,

In golden robes, a queen, a bride,

She standeth at her Sovereign's side,

She sees His face unveiled and bright;

With joy and love He greets her soul,

She feels herself made inly whole,

A lesser light amid His light.

The child hath now its Father seen,

And feels what kindling love may be,

And knoweth what those words may mean,

"Himself, the Father, loveth thee."

A shoreless ocean, an abyss

Unfathomed, filled with good and bliss,

Now breaks on her enraptured sight;

She sees God's face, she learneth there

What this shall be, to be His heir,

Joint-heir with Christ, her Lord, in light.


The body rests, its labours over,

And sleeps till Christ shall bid it wake;

The dust that earth and darkness cover,

Then as a sun its tomb shall break.

Ah, with what joy it rises then

To meet the perfect soul again!

Redeemed from death, no more to sever,

At that great marriage feast shall they

With all the saints their homage pay,

And worship there the Lamb for ever.

We who yet wander through the waste,

In faith long after Thee on high;

While here the bread of tears we taste,

We think upon that home of joy,

Where we (who knows how soon?) shall meet

With all the saints at Jesu's feet,

And dwell with Him for ever there.

We shall see God; how deep the bliss

We know not yet that lies in this;

Lord Jesus, come, our hearts prepare!

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