Choir for 4 voices
Soprano solo
Alto solo
Tenor solo
Bass solo
Horn
Travers flute
Oboe I + II
Violin I + II
Viola
Violone
Basso continuo

Jesus, thou who this my spirit
Hast through thy most bitter death
From the devil's murky cavern
And that grief which plagues the soul
Forcefully brought forth to freedom
And of this hast well assured me
Through thy most endearing word,
Be e'en now, O God, my shield!

We hasten with failing but diligent paces,
O Jesus, O master, to thee for thy help.
Thou seekest the ailing and erring most faithful,
Ah, hearken, as we
Our voices are raising to beg thee for succor!
Let on us thy countenance smile ever gracious!

Ah! I am a child of error,
Ah! I wander far and wide.
The rash of error which o'er me is coursing,
Leaves me no peace in these my mortal days.
My will attends alone to evil.
My soul, though, saith: ah, who will yet redeem me?
But both flesh and blood to conquer,
And bring goodness to fulfillment,
Surpasseth all my power and strength. (1.)
Though I my error would not bury,
Yet I cannot my many failures number.
Therefore, I take my sinful grief and pain
And all my sorrow's burden,
Which would be past my pow'r to carry:
I yield them to thee, Jesus, with a sigh.
Reckon not the sinful deed,
Which, O Lord, hath angered thee!

That blood which through my guilt doth stream,
Doth make my heart feel light again
And sets me free.
Should hell's own host call me to battle,
Yet Jesus will stand firm beside me,
That I take heart and vict'ry gain.

The wounding, nailing, crown and grave,
The beating, which were there the Savior giv'n
For him are now the signs of triumph
And can endow me with new strength and power.
Whene'er an awful judgment seat
A curse upon the damned doth speak,
Thou changest it to blessing.
There is no grief nor any pain to stir me,
For them my Savior knows;
And as thy heart for me with love doth burn,
So I in turn would offer
Whate'er I own before thee.
This my heart, with grief acquainted,
Which thy precious blood hath quickened,
Shed upon the cross by thee,
I give thee, Lord Jesus Christ.

Now thou wilt this my conscience quiet
Which gainst my will for vengeance cries;
Yea, thine own faithfulness will fill it,
Because thy word bids me have hope.
When Christian folk shall trust thee,
No foe in all eternity
From thine embrace shall steal them.

Lord, I trust thee, help my weakness,
Let me, yea, not know despair;
Thou, thou canst my strength make firmer
When by sin and death I'm vexed.
Thy great goodness I'll be trusting
'Til that day I see with gladness
Thee, Lord Jesus, battle done,
In that sweet eternity.

Galatians 5: 16-24

Luke 17: 11-19