tr., Emma Frances Bevan, 1899
Wondrous joy, Thy joy, Lord Jesus,
Deep, eternal, pure, and bright --
Thou alone the Man of Sorrows,
Thus couldst tell of joy aright.
Lord, we know that joy, that gladness,
Which in fulness Thou hast given --
Sharing all that countless treasure,
We on earth with Thee in Heaven.
... Even as He went before us
Through the wilderness below.
So, in strength unworn, unfailing,
Onward also would we go.
All the earth a desert round Him,
All His springs in God alone;
Every heart, save God's heart only,
Making discord with His own.
There to walk alone, rejoicing --
Through the ruin and the sin;
Darkness of the midnight round Him,
Glory of God's love within.
From no lower fountain flowing
Than the heart of God above,
All the gladness of that glory,
All the power of that love.
Onward to the cross rejoicing,
Where all powers of evil met,
Giving thanks 'midst deepest darkness
That God's love was deeper yet.
Then ascended in the glory,
By that love's unfailing spring,
There to sing the song of triumph,
There the song of songs to sing.
Hearken to that hymn of glory
Filling all the holy place,
Golden psalm of Him who looketh
On the Father's blessed face.
Voice of measureless rejoicing,
Joy unmingled, deep and clear,
Wonder to the listening Heavens,
Music to the Father's ear.
Won in travail of His Spirit,
Agony, and shame, and blood,
That blest place beside the Father,
Nearest to the heart of God.
Won for me! my praises leading,
Jesus sings that song divine;
All His joy my own for ever,
All His peace for ever mine.
What though drought be all around me,
Desert land on every side --
With that spring of love and gladness
Shall I not be satisfied?