Whene’er Again Thou Sinkest

lyricist: Wilhelm Hey, 1828
Composer: Paul Crüger (1598–1662)

Whene’er again thou sink­est

My heart

be­neath thy load

Or from the bat­tle shrink­est

And mur­mur­est at thy God;

Then I will lead thee hi­ther

To watch thy Sav­ior’s pray­er

And learn from His en­dur­ance

How thou shouldst also bear.

Oh come

wouldst thou be like Him

Thy Lord di­vine

and mark

What sharp­est sor­rows strike Him

What ang­uish deep and dark—

That ear­nest cry to spare Him

The trial scarce begun?

Yet still he saith: My Fa­ther

Thy will

not Mine

be done!

Oh wherefore doth His spir­it

Such bit­ter con­flict know?

What sins

what crimes could mer­it

Such deep and aw­ful woe?

So pure are not the heav­ens

So clear no noon­day sun

And yet He sa­ith: My Fa­ther

Thy will

not Mine

be done!

Oh mark that night of sor­row

That ago­ny of pray­er;

No friend can watch till mor­row

His grief to soothe and share;

Oh where shall He find com­fort?

With God

with God alone;

And still He sa­ith: My Fa­ther

Thy will

not Mine

be done!

Hath life for Him no glad­ness

No joy the light of day?

Can He then feel no sad­ness

When heart and hope give way?

That cup of mor­tal ang­uish

One bit­ter cry hath won

That it might pass: Yet

Fa­ther

Thy will

not Mine

be done!

And who the cup pre­pared Him

And who the poi­son gave?

’Twas one He loved en­snared Him

’Twas they He came to save.

Oh sharp­est pain

to suf­fer

Betrayed and mocked—alone;

Yet still he sa­ith: My Fa­ther

Thy will

not Mine

be done!

But what is joy or liv­ing

What trea­che­ry or death

When all His work

His striv­ing

Seem hang­ing on His breath?

Oh can it stand with­out Him

That work but just be­gun?

Yet still He sa­ith: My Fa­ther

Thy will

not Mine

be done!

He speaks; no more He shrink­eth

Himself He of­fers up

He sees it all

yet drink­eth

For us that bit­ter cup;

He goes to meet the trai­tor

The cross He will not shun—

He sa­ith: I come

My Fa­ther

Thy will

not Mine

be done!

My Sav­ior

I will nev­er

Forget Thy word of grace

But still re­peat it ev­er

Through good and ev­il days;

And look­ing up to Heav­en

Till all my race is run

I’ll hum­bly say: My Fa­ther

Thy will

not mine

be done!

Discover More Hymns

Explore random hymns and find new inspiration