Text 
        Choir: Soprano, 
        Alto, Tenor, Bass 
        Oboe I + II 
        Violin 
        I + II 
        Viola 
        Basso continuo 
         
         
        Recitative and Chorale: Bass solo 
        Basso continuo  
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
        Aria: Tenor solo 
        Violin 
        I + II 
        Viola 
        Basso continuo 
         
         
         
         
         
         
        Aria and Chorale (Duetto): Soprano solo, Alto solo 
        Violin 
        I + II 
        Viola 
        Basso continuo 
         
         
         
        Recitative and Chorale: Tenor solo 
        Basso continuo 
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
        Aria: Soprano solo 
        Oboe I 
        Basso continuo 
         
         
         
         
        Chorale: Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass 
        Oboe I + II 
        Violin 
        I + II 
        Viola 
        Basso continuo 
         
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          The man who leaves to God all power 
          And hopeth in him all his days, 
          He will most wondrously protect him 
          Through ev'ry cross and sad distress. 
          Who doth in God Almighty trust 
          Builds not upon the sand his house. 
           
          What help to us are grievous worries? 
          They just oppress the heart 
          With heavy woe, with untold fear and pain. 
          What help to us our "woe and ah!"? 
          It just brings bitter, sad distress. 
          What help to us that ev'ry morning 
          With sighing from our sleep to rise 
          And with our tearstained countenance at night to go to bed? 
          We make ourselves our cross and grief 
          Through anxious sadness only greater. 
          So fares a Christian better; 
          He bears his cross with Christ-like confidence and calm.  
           
          If we be but a little quiet, 
          Whene'er the cross's hour draws nigh, 
          For this our God's dear sense of mercy 
          Forsakes us ne'er in word or deed. 
          God, who his own elected knows, 
          God, who himself our "Father" names, 
          Shall one day ev'ry trouble banish 
          And to his children send salvation.  
           
          He knows the proper time for gladness, 
          He knows well when it profit brings; 
          If he hath only faithful found us 
          And marketh no hypocrisy, 
          Then God comes, e'en before we know, 
          And leaves to us much good result.  
           
          Think not within thy trial by fire, 
          When fire and thunder crack 
          And thee a sultry tempest anxious makes, 
          That thou by God forsaken art. 
          God bides e'en in the greatest stress, 
          Yea, even unto death 
          With his dear mercy midst his people. 
          Thou may'st not think then 
          That this man is in God's lap sitting 
          Who daily, like the wealthy man, 
          In joy and rapture life can lead. 
          Whoe'er on constant fortune feeds, 
          Midst nought but days of pleasure, 
          Must oft at last, 
          When once he hath of idle lust his fill, 
          The pot is poisoned! utter. 
          Pursuing time transformeth much! 
          Did Peter once the whole night long 
          With empty labors pass the time 
          And take in nothing? 
          At Jesus' word he can e'en yet a catch discover. 
          Midst poverty then trust, midst cross and pain, 
          Trust in thy Jesus' kindness 
          With faithful heart and spirit. 
          When rains have gone, he sunshine brings, 
          Appointing ev'ry man his end.  
           
          I will to the Lord now look 
          And e'er in my God put trust. 
          He worketh truly wonders rare. 
          He can wealthy, poor and bare, 
          And the poor, both rich and great, 
          According to his pleasure make.  
           
          Sing, pray, and walk in God's own pathways, 
          Perform thine own work ever true 
          And trust in heaven's ample blessing, 
          Then shall he stand by thee anew; 
          For who doth all his confidence 
          Rest in God, he forsaketh not. 
          
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