| V (BWV Anh. 193) Herrscher des Himmels,
König der Ehren
Election of the New Town Council.
Poet unknown; PT: Nützliche Nachrichten (Leipzig, 1740); Facs: Neumann T, p. 380.
29 August 1740, Leipzig; Parody: 5, 7 ← BWV 208/13, 15.
Den 29. Aug.
Herrscher des Himmels, König der Ehren,
Gott, welcher selbst Regenten setzt;
Gerechte müßen wie Palmen,
Gesegnete, beglückte Stadt,
Dancke Gott, daß er in Segen
So sencke doch, o Höchster, Geist und Kraft
Es falle ietzt auf uns dein himmliches Feuer,
As on the Monday after St. Bartholomew's Day Mr. M. Christian Gottlob Eichler gave the so-called Council-Election Sermon on the words of Ps. 115:12, The Lord remember us and bless us. After the Sermon was delivered, the following well-constructed cantata was performed.
1. ChorusRuler of heaven, king of all honor,
Look upon Zion graciously now.
Make open heaven, bend low thine ear,
As our great longing riseth aloft;
And this our trust may’st thou make to prosper.
God, who himself doth rulers make;
God, who o’er faithful congregations watcheth,
God, who both peace and fortune maketh,
Himself inspireth in our breasts,
While here the life of our dear fathers,
Their prudent counsel, makes us glad,
That we both laud and honor give him,
That we with holy joy
In this prosperity take pleasure,
And for the coming years
With prayers fresh new incense scatter.
The righteous must just like palm trees,
Like cedars stand.
And likewise must those fathers fare
Who us with light and justice govern.
So let us now perceive a shield and shadow o’er us.
O prosperous and happy town,
Which such a sacred shrine within its walls doth own.
The Cherubim protected there
The treasure where the lofty word
Of godly ordinance lay safely.
But what protects thy sacred shrine?
Who tends God’s service and great fame
But these esteemed and honored rulers?
Yea, were our hearts themselves with thanks and off ’rings burning,
This would not be sufficient for this joyful feast day.
Thank thy God that he in blessing
Doth thy houses for thee keep;
That his gracious dew and showers
Every morning on thee fall.
Many others must be grieving,
But with thee can righteousness
And sweet concord kiss each other,
O most welcome age of bliss!
Thy spirit then, O Highest, send and strength
Upon these lofty ranks now,
That thy rich favor’s plenteous flood
May like a river overflow
And strength bring to these hands so holy!
Ah, hear indeed as we,
O God, to thee
In reverence call now!
Let fall now upon us thy heavenly fire,
And kindle the off ’ring of gratitude’s flame.
The most faithful wishes for thee are too poor,
But thou wouldst our spirits
Elect now for service,
So make them themselves be obliging and just,
And open to reverence the heavenly road.
© Copyright Z. Philip Ambrose