Now my faith its seal is taking;
Molten gold, unhurt by fire,
Only thus, 'tis ever given,
Up to joys of highest heaven,
For God's children to aspire.
Thus by griefs the Lord is moulding
Mind and spirit, here unfolding
His own image, to endure.
Now he shapes our dust, but later
Is the inner man's creator;
Thus he works by trials sure.
Sorrows quell our insurrection,
Bring our members to subjection,
Under Christ's prevailing will;
While the broken powers he raises
To the work of holy praises
Quietly and softly still.
Sorrows gather home the senses,
Lest, seduced by earth's pretenses,
They should after idols stroll,
Like an angel-guard, repelling
Evil from the inmost dwelling,
Bringing order to the soul.
Sorrow now the harp is stringing
For the everlasting singing,
Teaching us to soar above;
Where the blessed choir, palm-bearing,
Harps are playing, crowns are wearing,
Round the throne with songs of love.
Sorrow makes alert and daring;
Sorrow is our clay preparing
For the cold rest of the grave;
Sorrow is a herald, hasting,
Of that springtide whose unwasting
Health the dying soul shall save.
Sorrow makes our faith abiding,
Lowly, childlike, and confiding;
Sorrow! who can speak thy grace?
Earth may name the tribulation,
Heaven has nobler appellation;
Not thus honored all our race.
Brethren those our perturbations,
Step by step, through many stations,
Lead disciples to their sun.
Soon, though many a pang has wasted,
Soon, though many a death has tasted,
Sorrow's watch of sighs is done.
Though the healthful powers were willing,
All the Master's will fulfilling
By obedience to be tried,
Oh! 'tis still no less a blessing,
Such a Master's care possessing,
In his furnace to abide.
In the depth of keenest anguish,
More and more the heart shall languish
After Jesus' loving heart,
For one blessing only crying:
"Make me like thee in thy dying,
Then thy endless life impart."
Till at length, with sighs all breaking,
Through each bond its passage taking,
Lo! the vail is rent in twain!
Who remembers now earth's treasure?
What a sea of godlike pleasure
High in heaven swells amain!
Now, with Jesus ever reigning,
Where the ransomed home are gaining,
Bathing in the endless light,
All the heavenly ones are meeting!
Brothers, sisters - let us, greeting,
Claim them ours, by kindred right.
Jesus! toward that height of heaven
May a prospect clear be given,
Till the parting hour shall come.
Then from pangs emerging brightly,
May we all be wafted lightly
By angelic convoy home!
—Karl F. Hartmann (Endlich bricht der heisse Tiegel), trans. James W. Alexander
Tune: Alles ist an Gottes Segen, Johann Löhner, adapted Johann B. König (courtesy Hymnary.org)
About the Authors
Karl Friedrich Hartmann (1743–1815) was "a pious and most useful minister in Würtemberg . . . . His truly spiritual hymns were published, after his death, by Albert Knapp" (Philip Schaff, ed., A Library of Religious Poetry, 867).James Waddell Alexander (1804–1859) alternated between teaching at Princeton and pastoring churches in New York City. He is best known for having translated the hymn "O Sacred Head, Now Wounded."
Thoughts
I first ran across this gem a few years ago while searching for the original version of "O Sacred Head, Now Wounded" after finding an alternate version in a friend's hymnal. We had been studying James in church, which made its subject even dearer, and I cannot help but think that it was inspired by Jas 1:2–4, though I have absolutely no evidence to that effect. In any case, I was struck and continue to be struck by Hartmann and Alexander's keen understanding of the idea that God works all things, even sorrows, together for our good.Eventually, I came down with a need to have a tune to sing to (I rather liked Schmücke dich, O liebe Seele, but it was not metered correctly and I couldn't really improve it). I went through old German hymnals on Google Books until I found Alles ist an Gottes Segen, as seen above. This tune appears to have been written by one Johann Löhner and then altered into its present form by Johann B. König.
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