Herr Gott, mein Heiland Nacht und Tag

Here is my translation of the psalm paraphrase, “Herr Gott, mein Heiland Nacht und Tag” (Cornelius Becker, d. 1604), based on Psalm LXXXVIII, Domine Deus salutis, with title “The weakness of the wretched . . . A psalm-song of the children of Korah to precent on the weakness of the wretched: an instruction of Heman the Ezrahite” and melody assignment “Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ.” Of the psalm itself, Luther writes,

It is a psalm of supplication which is prayed in the person of Christ and all other great saints, lamenting the deep and spiritual suffering that is above all suffering, to wit, the terror of God, which He calls death, the grave, and hell, even as it is in truth, making a pitiful and wretched appearance, etc. St. Paul calls it the messenger of Satan that strikes his neck, and a stake in his body by which he is transfixed, as evildoers are stuck on a spit in Greece, and the heathen blasphemed our Lord and called Him the Spitted One, and the Jews, the Hanged One. For it befits Christ and His people in the world to be mocked for His suffering, as this psalm also says that his friends and kisnmen who ought to lament and have compassion, are far from Him.

 

LORD God, my Savior, day and night
I cry and pray before Thee:
Incline Thine ear and hear my plight,
And let my sorrow stir Thee!
My soul is troubled, and my life
Nears its ending,
Deathward tending;
Great sorrow, fear, and strife
Within my heart are blending!

2 I am esteemed as one of those
That go to their damnation;
No man assistance to me shows,
But left in desolation,
A slain man ’mongst the dead I stand,
Into a grave am sinking,
Faintly blinking,
Cut off from Thy dear hand,
And no more in Thy thinking.

3 Thou lay’st me in the lowest pit,
In darkness deep constricted;
Beneath Thy heavy wrath I sit,
By all Thy waves afflicted;
Thou makest me to dearest friends
A dread abomination;
In my station
No hope my prayr’ attends,
No means of extrication.

4 Afflicted by the tears I’ve poured,
My face is lowly bending;
I call upon Thee daily, Lord,
To Thee my hands extending,
Wilt Thou show wonders to the dead
Who cannot see nor hear Thee,
Nor revere Thee?
Shall they lift up the head
And with their praise draw near Thee?

5 Shall men Thy mercy then declare
To bodies long entombèd?
Or praise Thy faithful kindness there
To those by moths consumèd?
Nor can Thy righteousness be known
By those to darkness driven,
Nor can heaven
And righteousness be shown
To lands of pure obliv-ion.

6 But unto Thee, Lord, do I cry,
And seek Thee in the morning?
Oh, Lord, why cast me off? Oh, why
My soul be thusly scorning?
Hide not Thy face, nor be so rough!
I suffer grief and anguish,
Sorely languish,
Since Thou dost cast me off
And nigh my soul extinguish.

7 Thy wrath with might goes over me,
Thy terrors sore oppress me;
The foes like waters threat’ningly
Surround me and distress me.
Acquaintance Thou hast far removed,
And made them to forsake me,
And dost make me
Despised by those I’ve loved;—
My suff’rings overtake me!

Translation © 2024 Matthew Carver.

GERMAN

Herr Gott mein Heyland Nacht und Tag
Schrey ich für dir mit Flehen,
Neig dein Ohren zu meiner Klag,
Laß dir zu Hertzen gehen
Mein Gbet Herr mein betrübte Seel
In eytel Jammer ſchwebet,
Und mein Leben
Iſt nahe bey der Hell,
Mein Geiſt muß ich auffgeben.

2  Ich bin geachtet denen gleich,
Die zu der Hellen fahren,
Kein Menſch mir Armen Hülff erzeigt,
Ich bin verlaſſen gare,
Als wenn ich mit erſchlagen wer,
Gefahren tieff hinabe
In mein Grabe,
Du denckeſt mein nicht mehr,
Zeuchſt die Hand von mir abe.

3  Du haſt ins Finſter mich gelegt,
Hinunter in die Grube,
Dein Grimm und Zorn zu mir einſchlegt
Mit allen ſeinen Fluten,
All meine Freunde ſind verkart,
Ich muß zum Grewel ſtehen,
Hilfft kein Flehen,
Ich lig gefangen hart,
Und kann gar nicht entgehen.

4  Gantz jämmerlich iſt mein Geſtalt
Für Hertzleid und Elende,
Ich ruff dich an, HErr, mannichfalt,
Breit aus zu dir mein Hände,
Wirſtu denn auch wol Wunder thun
Bey denen die geſtorben
Und verdorben?
Stehn ſie auff wiederumb,
Daß dir Danck werd erworben?

5  Wird man erzehlen deine Güt
In Gräbern bey den Todten?
Dein Trew diejenign rühmen nit,
Die ſind verzehrt von Motten,
Dein Werck iſt denen nicht bekant,
Die im Finſternis ſitzen,
Nichts iſt nütze
Dein Grechtigkeit dem Land,
Da man nichts mehr kan wiſſen.

6  Ich ſchrey zu dir, HErr, laß für dich
Früh kommen mein Gebete,
Ach HErr willtu verſtoßen mich
Und meine Seel nicht retten?
Verbirg dein Antlitz nicht für mir,
Ich leid Elend und Plage,
Schmertzlich klage,
Weil du mich ſtößt von dir,
Ich muß ſchier gar verzagen.

7  Dein Grimm geht her gewaltiglich,
Dein Schrecken druckt mich ſehre,
Die Feind rings her umbgeben mich
Wie Waſſerfluten ſchwere,
Du machſt, daß meine nechſten Freund
Mich gantz und gar verlaſſen
Und mich haſſen
All die verwandt mir ſeynd,
Mein Leid iſt über Maſſen.