Wir schreiben das Jahr Du spielst Edward Charles Harden, einen amerikanischen Reisenden, der nach Norwegen gekommen ist, um seine verschwundene Schwester zu finden. Alle anzeigen. Klicken Sie hier , um sie einzusehen. Zum Anzeigen von Reviews in einem bestimmten Zeitraum, markieren Sie diesen bitte in einem der obigen Graphen oder klicken Sie auf einen einzelnen Balken.
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Wenn aktiviert, werden themenfremde Reviews ausgefiltert. Dies entspricht Ihren Einstellungen zu Reviews. For what have all that live, and move Through this wide world below, That does not from Thy bounteous love, O Heavenly Father, flow? By whom are precious rain and dew Upon our pastures sent? In frost and cold, whose hand but Thine Protects from tempest drear?
Whose impulse sends the life-blood warm Swift circling through our veins? O Lord, of this and all our store Thou art the Author blest; Thou keepest watch before our door, While we securely rest: Thy truth and love from year to year For all our wants provide; With ready help, in times of fear, Thou standest at our side. Thou with us sinners bearest long, With measured stripes dost prove, And drownest all our grievous wrong In ocean-depths of love.
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When silent woe our bosom rends, Thy pity sees our grief, And gives what to Thy glory tends No less than our relief. Thou knowest when each Christian weeps, And why the tear-drops fall; And in the Book Thy mercy keeps These things are noted all: Thy lasting joys will compensate For lack of worldly store, And heavenly homes the just await, When earth shall be no more. Cheer up! In restless thought, or blank despair, Why spend each day and night?
Has he not oft, in threatening hour, Turned dreaded ills away? Das Vertrauende Herz. The Trusting Heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord, and put thy trust in Him, and He shall bring it to pass. Although to make God falter The powers of hell combine, One jot they cannot alter Of His all-wise design: All projects and volition Of His eternal Mind, Despite all opposition, Their due fulfilment find. All faithless murmurs leaving, Bid them a last good-night, No more thy vexed soul grieving, Because things seem not right: Wisely His Sceptre wielding, God sits in regal state, No power to mortals yielding, Events to regulate.
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Trust with a faith untiring In thine Omniscient King, And thou shalt see admiring What He to light will bring: Of all thy griefs the reason Shall at the last appear; Why now denied a season, Will shine in letters clear. Awhile, perchance to try thee, He seems to hear thee not, All comfort to deny thee, As if thou wert forgot; As though He disregarded Thy bitter cry and moan, His care for thee discarded, And left thee quite alone. But if all ills thou brookest, With constant faith and love, When least for help thou lookest, Thy cross He will remove: At last, compassion taking On thine estate forlorn, Will ease the woe heart-breaking Which thou hast meekly borne.
Then raise thine eyes to heaven, Thou who canst trust His frown; Thence shall thy meed be given, The chaplet and the crown: Then God the palm victorious In thy right hand shall plant, Whilst thou, in accents glorious, Melodious hymns shalt chant. Lied an dem Treuen Hirte. Ich bin ein verirrt und verloren Schaf: Suche, Herr, deinen Knecht,. Hymn to the Good Shepherd. I have gone astray like a sheep that is lost; Lord, seek Thy servant Ps. Wilt Thou not, my Shepherd true, Spare Thy sheep, in mercy spare me? Wilt Thou not, as shepherds do, In Thine arms rejoicing bear me; Bear me where all troubles cease, Home to folds of joy and peace?
Gather me within the fold, Where Thy lambs Thy light behold. I here am fore beset, Fears at every step confound me; Lo!
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Jesus, Lord! Christus unser Licht. Alsdann werden der Blinden Augen aufgethan werden. Und immer heisser weinend, Mit immer lauterm Wort, Stets mehr mein Herz entsteinend, Fuhr ich zu rufen fort. Du sprachst: Was willst du haben? Du sprachst: Es soll geschehn! Christ our Light. Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened. A thousand years have fleeted, And, Saviour, still we see Thy deed of love repeated, On all who come to Thee. As he who sat benighted, Afflicted, poor, and blind, So now, Thy word is plighted, Joy, light, and peace I find.
Dark gloom my spirit filling, Beside the way I sat; Desire my heart was thrilling, But anguish more than that: To me no ray was granted, Although I heard the psalms The faithful sweetly chanted, And felt the waving palms. With tears that fast were flowing, I sought Thee through the crowd, My heart more tender growing, Until I wept aloud: Oh! Our hope, Lord, faileth never, When Thou Thy word dost plight; My fears then ceased for ever, And all my soul was light.
I follow Thee. Des Sieges Krone. The Crown of Victory. Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life. Great shall be his recompense, True to death on God who waited, Who renounced the joys of sense, To his Saviour consecrated; Who has gazed with steadfast eye On the crown of victory. May we soon approach Thee near, We who long on earth have striven!
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Des Christen Gebet. Selig sind, die reines Herzens sind; denn sie werden Gott schauen. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. A new and contrite heart create In me, Thou God compassionate: Shut close the gate, and keep the door, That sin may enter in no more. To Thee my soul I open wide, Come, Jesu! James , i. Make me with zeal pursue My rightful occupation, Do all as unto Thee, And as becomes my station; With promptness make me act, And at the time most fit, And when the act is done, Then bless and prosper it.
Make me, as Thou hast taught, Love Christians all as brothers, And, far as Christian ought, Live peaceably with others. If Thou my term of days In feeble old age lengthen, And, with increasing years, If griefs and troubles strengthen, Give patience, faith, and love, Unmurmuring all to bear, And let no spot of sin Disgrace my hoary hair. And join Thy chosen saints, All glorious in the skies. Des Kranken Morgenlied. I, the Lord thy God, will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not, I will help thee.
Isaiah , xli. From blest, unconscious sleep I wake again, To sense of cheerless days and wearing pain, My sad, appointed lot; I know not if to-day my righteous God Will add fresh strokes of His chastising rod, Yet be it so or not, His love will guard me with its watchful care, And keep me safe beneath the cross I bear.
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Fain would I take this comfort to my heart. Could I but feel secure that I have part In His almighty love; Which blessed hope no flattering view can give, Unless a life of holiness I live, A saving faith to prove; For if I walk not closely with my God, I cannot lean on His supporting rod.
Trost des Traurenden. Where the mourner weeping Sheds the secret tear, God His watch is keeping, Though none else be near. God will never leave thee, All thy wants He knows, Feels the pains that grieve thee, Sees thy cares and woes. Raise thine eyes to heaven When thy spirits quail, When, by tempests driven, Heart and courage fail.