Ich mag sprechen, die Christlich Gmein

Here is my translation of the psalm paraphrase, “Ich mag sprechen, die Christlich Gmein” (Burkard Waldis, d. 1556), based on Psalm CXXIX, Sæpe expugnaverunt, with title “An instruction that God would protect Christians against their enemies put the ungodly to naught.” I give Waldis’s melody (847.847.84.77) transposed down a bit. Note that in two stanzas, whether or accidentally or not, Waldis has used internal rhyme or taken the last 8-syllable line as two 4-syllable lines, in which I attempt to imitate him.

 

 

OF God’s dear flock I may now say,
How many a day,
How oft she is oppressèd,
And by the great ungodly crowd
With mock’ry proud
And tyranny distressèd.
They often tried in all their pride
To quell her side,
With fury without measure,
Yet failed, to their displeasure.

2 My back was plowed with furrows long
By plowers strong
So that men well must wonder;
Yet do I thank my righteous God
Who spoiled their fraud
And cut their cords asunder.
Oh, let them altogether fall,
So that they all
May back in shame be turnèd,
Who would have Zion burnèd!

3 So may they prosper not, but pass
Away like grass
That on the housetop groweth,
Which drieth up with harmful speed
And bears no seed,
Not use to men bestoweth.
No good in them the mower finds,
No sheaves he binds,
Nor joys in them tomorrow,
God scatters them in sorrow.

4 So that they must confounded stand
By God’s own hand
And be at last ashamèd,
And all their tricks and counsels sly
Be turned awry
And by all men disclaimèd.
So that all men who pass that way
May scornful say,
How are their hopes reversèd,
And all their lot accursèd!

¶ Therefore the godly thanks afford
To God the Lord,
Who grace and mercy gave them,
Through Christ the Savior of all worth
Who doth on eath
From every error save them.
To Him who cleave, none them deceive,
No tricks aggrieve
Of those who would pervert them
From God shall no man part them.

Translation © 2024 Matthew Carver.

GERMAN

Ich mag sprechen, die Christlich gmeyn,
Das heufflin kleyn,
Wie sie offt sein gedrenget,
Von der grossen Gottlosen rott,
Die in zum spott,
Ir Tyrannei verlenget,
Habn mich dannoch nit uber mocht,
Wie offt versucht,
Mit wüten one massen,
Das war keyn abelassen.

2 Sie pflugten mir meinn rucken durch,
Mit langer furch,
Daß eim dafür möcht grawen,
Doch danck ich dem gerechten Gott,
Mit gwalt Er hat
Ir seyle abgehawen,
Ach, daß sie müssen alle sand
Bestehn mit schand,
Und sich zurucke keren,
Die Zion wölln verstören.

3 Daß in muß werden nimmer baß,
Und wie das graß
Das da wechßt auff dem dache,
Welchs gar verdorret eh der zeit,
Keynn samen treyt,
Man kan nichts darauß machen.
Der schnitter keynen nutz dran findt,
Der garben bindt
Wirt sich darob nicht frewen,
So muß sie Gott zerstrewen.

4 Daß, wann ir sache wirt zu schand,
Durch Gottes hand,
Und sie sich müssen schemen,
All ir anschleg und böse tück,
Gehn gar zurück,
Ein schimpfflich ende nemen,
Daß alle die fürüber gan,
In alln zum hon,
Ir spotten und belachen,
Mit irn verdorben sachen.

¶ Dafür die frommen danckbar sein
Dem HERRN allein,
Der in solchs offenbareet,
Durch Christum seinen heyland werdt,
Der sie auff erdt
Vor allm irrthumb bewaret,
Wer im nur glaubt, nit werd beraubt,
Geblendt, getaubt,
Durch die so felschlich lehren,
Sich nit von Gott abkeren.