Choir for 4 voices
Soprano solo
Alto solo
Tenor solo
Bass solo
Oboe d`amore I + II
Violin I + II
Viola
Basso continuo

Blest he who self can to his God
With childlike trust abandon!
For though now sin and word and death
And ev'ry demon hate him,
Yet he'll be ever confident,
If he but God his friend doth make.

God is my friend; what use that raging
Which now the foe hath raised against me!
I am consoled midst spite and hate.
Yea, though ye tell the truth but rarely,
Be ever false, what's that to me?
Ye scorners are to me no danger.

The Savior sends, indeed, his people
Directly midst the angry wolves. (1.)
About him have the lowly rabble
Themselves, to harm and mock him,
With cunning ranged.
But since his mouth such wise response doth make,
He shields me also from the world.

Misfortune wraps from all directions
Round me an hundredweight of chain.
Yet sudden appeareth the help of his hand.
I see the light of hope from far off;
I've learned at last that God alone
To men the best of friends must be.

Yea, though I bear my greatest foe within,
The heavy weight of error,
My Savior lets me find a solace.
I give to God what God doth own, (2.)
My inmost heart and spirit.
If he will now accept them,
My debt of sin shall pass, and fall shall Satan's craft.

I therefore scorn the host of hell!
Scorn also death's jaws yawning!
Scorn all the world! No more can me
Its pounding fill with mourning!
God is my shield, my store and help;
Blest he who God as friend hath found!

Philippians 3: 17-21

Matthew 22: 15-22