Der du uns als Vater liebest

Here is my translation of the Whitsunday / sanctification hymn, “Der du uns als Vater liebest” (David Bruhn, d. 1782), in NEGB #71 in 9 stanzas for Whitsunday, with melody assignment “Werde munter, mein Gemüthe.” Another, but partial, translation, “Thou who lov’st us as a Father” is found here.

 

THOU who as a Father tendest,
And to them that Thee inquire,
Faithful God, Thy Spirit sendest,
Yea, dost bid us Him desire,
Humbly now I ask of Thee
Send Him also unto me,
Let my heart be renovated,
As Thy temple consecrated.

2 Without Him no good is learnèd,
Life or power or fruit is shown;
And my heart from Thee is turnèd,
Set to serve the world alone.
Should He not by pow’r divine
Mind and sense create, refine,
That in all devout before Thee
I may live but to Thy glory.

3 Nay, I cannot know or claim Thee,
Jesus, nor with faithfulness
As the Lord my God can name Thee,
If I do not Him possess;
Therefore let Him mightily
Work such might of faith in me.
As my Savior to revere Thee,
And upon Thy call to hear Thee.

4 Endless source of bounties holy,
Spirit worthiest to revere,
Liftings minds of mortals lowly,
Gladd’ning with Thy comforts dear:
Lord, my spirit longs for Thee,
I devote me all to Thee.
To God’s praise let me be given
Holiness, made wise for heaven.

5 Fill me with pure motivations,
God to love, my highest Good,
Over all His good creations,
That I may with cheerful mood
In His care my pleasure find
And with trust of youthful kind,
Walk before my Father ever,
Right in thinking and behavior.

6 Spirit, peace and love bestowing,
Mould me after Thine own mind,
Love and kindness to be showing
And to count it gain to bind
Man to man in bonds of peace,
And to carry and decrease
All the burdens of my neighbor
By the hand of loving labor.

7 Spirit, grant me holy vision,
All my errors to perceive,
And by penitent confession
To pray God my sins forgive.
Give me earnestness each day
To continue on Thy way;
For the work of sanctifying
Ever be new strength supplying.

8 When, my many sins surveying,
I am by my conscience stung,
When great doubts refuse allaying,
And my heart by fear is wrung,
When my eyes in trial weep,
And God seems far off to keep,
Let my soul then not be wanting
Strength and comfort in attacking.

9 Any good in me appearing
is Thy gracious work in me.
Yea, the impulse of desiring
Is ignited, Lord, by Thee.
Oh, then further by Thy Word
Grace’s working undeterred,
Till by death, with Thine elected
It is gloriously perfected.

Translation © 2023 Matthew Carver.