O Friend of souls! how blest the time
When in thy love I rest!
When from my weariness I climb
E'en to thy tender breast!
The night of sorrow endeth there,
Thy rays outshine the sun;
And in thy pardon and thy care
The heaven of heavens is won.
The world may call itself my foe,
Or flatter and allure,
I care not for the world--I go
To this tried friend and sure.
And when life's fiercest storms are sent
Upon life's wildest sea,
My little bark is confident
Because it holdeth thee.
When the law threatens endless death
Upon the awful hill,
Straightway from her consuming breath
My soul goes higher still--
Goeth to Jesus, wounded, slain,
And maketh him her home,
Whence she will not go out again,
And where death cannnot come.
I do not fear the wilderness--
Where thou hast been before;
Nay, rather will I daily press
After thee, near thee, more.
Thou art my food, on thee I lean;
Thou makest my heart sing;
And to thy heavenly pastures green
All thy dear flock dost bring.
And if the gate that opens there
Be dark to other men,
It is not dark to those who share
The heart of Jesus then.
That is not losing much of life
Which is not losing thee,
Who art as present in the strife
As in the victory.
To others death seems dark and grim,
But not, O Lord, to me;
I know thou ne'er forsakest him
Who puts his trust in thee.
Nay, rather with a joyful heart
I welcome the release
From this dark desert, and depart
To thy eternal peace.
--Wolfgang C. Dessler.