Burkhart M. Schürmann - All My Heart - текст песни (слова)

All my heart this night rejoices,
 As I hear, far and near, sweetest angel voices;
 “Christ is born,” their choirs are singing,
 Till the air, everywhere, now their joy is ringing.
 
 Forth today the Conqueror goeth,
 Who the foe, sin and woe, death and hell, o'erthroweth.
 God is man, man to deliver;
 His dear Son now is one with our blood forever.
 
 Shall we still dread God's displeasure,
 Who, to save, freely gave His most cherished Treasure?
 To redeem us, He hath given
 His own Son from the throne of His might in Heaven.
 
 Should He who Himself imparted
 Aught withhold from the fold, leave us broken hearted?
 Should the Son of God not love us,
 Who, to cheer sufferers here, left His throne above us?
 
 If our blessed Lord and Maker
 Hated men, would He then be of flesh partaker?
 If He in our woe delighted,
 Would He bear all the care of our race benighted?
 
 He becomes the Lamb that taketh
 Sin away and for aye full atonement maketh.
 For our life His own He tenders
 And our race, by His grace, meet for glory renders.
 
 Hark! a voice from yonder manger,
 Soft and sweet, Doth entreat: "Flee from woe and danger.
 Brethren, from all ills that grieve you
 You are feed; All you need I will surely give you."
 
 Come, then, banish all your sadness,
 One and all, great and small, come with songs of gladness,
 Love Him Who with love is glowing,
 Hail the star near and far light and joy bestowing.
 
 Ye whose anguish knew no measure,
 Weep no more; See the door To celestial pleasure.
 Cling to Him, for He will guide you
 Where no cross, Pain, or loss can again betide you.
 
 Hither come, ye heavy hearted,
 Who for sin, deep within, long and sore have smarted
 For the poisoned wound you're feeling help is near
 One is there, mighty for their healing.
 
 Hither come, ye poor and wretched:
 Know His will is to fill every hand outstretched;
 Here are riches without measure,
 Here forget all regret, fill your hearts with treasure.
 
 Let me in my arms receive Thee;
 On Thy breast Let me rest, Savior, ne'er to leave Thee.
 Since Thou hast Thyself presented
 Now to me, I shall be Evermore contented.
 
 Guilt no longer can distress me;
 Son of God, Thou my load bearest to release me.
 Stain in me Thou findest never;
 I am clean, all my sin is removed forever.
 
 I am pure, in Thee believing,
 From Thy store Evermore righteous robes receiving
 In my heart I will enfold Thee,
 Treasure rare, let me there, loving, ever hold Thee.
 
 Dearest Lord, Thee will I cherish.
 Though my breath Fail in death, yet I shall not perish,
 But with Thee abide forever
 There on high, in that joy which can vanish never.