Text 
        Recitative: Soprano 
        solo 
        Violin 
        I + II 
        Viola 
        Basso continuo 
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
        Aria (Duett): Alto solo, Tenor solo 
        Bassoon 
        Basso continuo  
         
         
         
         
        Recitative: Bass solo 
        Basso continuo  
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
        Aria: Soprano solo 
        Violin 
        I + II 
        Viola 
        Basso continuo 
         
         
         
         
        Chorale: Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass 
        Violin 
        I + II 
        Viola 
        Basso continuo 
         
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          My God, how long, how long then? 
          Of grief there is too much, 
          I see no end at all 
          Of yearning and of sorrow! 
          Thy soothing face of grace 
          Beneath the night and clouds itself hath hidden; 
          Thy hand of love, is now, ah, quite withdrawn; 
          For comfort I'm most anxious. 
          I find now, to this wretch's daily anguish, 
          My cup of tears is ever full replenished, 
          The joyful wine doth fail; 
          And falls nigh all my confidence! 
           
          Thou must trust now, thou must hope now, 
          Thou must rest assured in God! 
          Jesus knows the proper hour, 
          Thee with help to fill with joy. 
          When this troubled time is over, 
          All his heart shall thee lie open 
           
          So be, O spirit, be contented! 
          If it should to thine eyes appear 
          As if thy dearest friend 
          Were e'er from thee now parted, 
          When he a short time thee hath left, 
          Heart, keep thy faith: 
          A short time will it be, 
          When he for bitter weeping 
          The wine of hope and gladness, 
          And honey sweet for bitter gall will grant thee! 
          Ah, do not think 
          That he delights to bring thee sadness; 
          He only tests through sorrow thine affection; 
          He maketh now thy heart to weep through cheerless hours, 
          So that his gracious light 
          To thee appear e'en still more lovely; 
          He hath reserved thy joy 
          For last, 
          To thy delight and consolation; 
          So yield to him, O heart, in all things power! 
           
          Cast, my heart now, cast thyself 
          In the Highest's loving bosom, 
          That he grant to thee his mercy. 
          Lay now all thy sorrows' yoke, 
          All that thee till now hath burdened, 
          On the shoulders of his mercy. 
           
          Though it should seem he were opposed, 
          Be thou by this not frightened, 
          For where he is at best with thee, 
          His wont is not to show it. 
          His word take thou more certain still, 
          And though thy heart say only No, 
          Yet let thyself not shudder.  
          
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