Hymn Book ‎#61

61. Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness

1 Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness,
Leave the gloomy haunts of sadness,
Come into the day-light’s splendor,
There with joy thy praises render
Unto Him whose grace unbounded
Hath this wondrous banquet founded;
Higher o’er all the heavens He reigneth,
Yet to dwell with thee He deigneth.

2 Hasten as a bride to meet Him
And with loving reverence greet Him;
For with words of life immortal
Now He knocketh at thy portal;
Haste to ope the gates before Him,
Saying, while thou dost adore Him:
"Suffer, Lord, that I receive Thee,
And I never more will leave Thee."

3 He who precious goods desireth
To obtain, much gold requireth;
But to give us every treasure
Of Thy love, is Thy good pleasure;
For there is on earth no coffer
Which as payment we might offer
For this cup Thy blood containing,
And this manna, on us raining.

4 Ah, how hungers all my spirit
For the love I do not merit!
Oft have I, with sighs fast thronging,
Thought upon this food with longing,
In the battle well nigh worsted,
For this cup of life have thirsted,
For the Friend who here invites us,
And to God Himself unites us.

5 Now I sink before Thee lowly,
Filled with joy most deep and holy,
As with trembling awe and wonder
On Thy mighty works I ponder:
How, by mystery surrounded,
Depths no man hath ever sounded
None may dare to pierce unbidden,
Secrets that with Thee are hidden.

6 Human wisdom vainly ponders,
It will ne'er explain these wonders,
That this bread doth never perish,
Although millions it doth nourish;
And that Christ His blood is giving
With the wine we are receiving.
Ah! these mysteries unsounded
Are by God alone expounded.

7 Sun who all my life dost brighten,
Light, who dost my soul enlighten,
Joy, the sweetest, man e'er knoweth,
Fount, whence all my being floweth,
At Thy feet I cry, my Maker,
Let me be a fit partaker,
Of this blessed food from heaven,
For our good, Thy glory, given.

8 Lord, Thy holy love hath driven
Thee to leave Thy throne in heaven,
For us on the cross to languish,
And to die in bitter anguish,
To forego all joy and gladness,
And to shed Thy blood in sadness.
Now we drink this blood, and never
Will forget Thy love, dear Saviour.

9 Christ, true bread of Life, I pray Thee,
Let me gladly here obey Thee,
Never to my hurt invited,
Be Thy love with love required;
From this banquet let me measure,
Lord, how vast and deep its treasure;
Through the gifts Thou here dost give me.
As Thy guest in heaven receive me.

Text Information

• First Line: Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness
• Author: John Franck
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1884
• Topic: The Catechism

Tune Information

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