THE TURF SHALL BE MY FRAGRANT SHRINE.
The turf shall be my fragrant shrine;
My temple, Lord! that Arch of thine;
My censer's breath the mountain airs,
And silent thoughts my only prayers.
My choir shall be the moonlight waves,
When murmuring homeward to their caves,
Or when the stillness of the sea,
Even more than music, breathes of Thee!
I'll seek, by day, some glade unknown,
All light and silence, like thy Throne;
And the pale stars shall be, at night,
The only eyes that watch my rite.
Thy Heaven, on which 't is bliss to look,
Shall be my pure and shining book,
Where I shall read, in words of flame,
The glories of thy wondrous name.
Der Rasen sei mein Duft-Altar
Mein Tempel, Herr! Dein Himmel klar;
Mein Weihrauch sei der Bergluft Wehn,
Und stumme Andacht all mein Flehn;
Mein Chor die mondbeglänzten Welln,
Wenn murmelnd sie zum Strande schwelln,
Und selbst die Meeresstille mir,
Mehr als Musik, ein Hauch von Dir!
Bei Tag zum Waldesthal entflohn,
Voll Licht und Schweigen wie dein Thron,
Hält nur der Sterne Dämmern Wacht
Ob meinem Gottesdienst bei Nacht;
Dein tiefer Himmel, segnend stumm,
Mein leuchtend Evangelium!
Dort steht in Flammenlettern klar
Dein Name, glorreich, wunderbar.
I'll read thy anger in the rack
That clouds awhile the day-beam's track;
Thy mercy in the azure hue
Of sunny brightness, breaking through.
There's nothing bright, above, below,
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see
Some feature of thy Deity:
There's nothing dark, below, above,
But in its gloom I trace thy Love,
And meekly wait that moment, when
Thy touch shall turn all bright again!
Dein Zürnen spricht aus Wetternacht,
Die flüchtig hüllt des Tages Pracht;
Und Gnade lacht im Azur-Blau,
Das sonnig bricht durch Wolken-Grau.
In jedem Glanz, vom Blumenblühn
Bis droben zu der Sterne Glühn,
Erschaut der Seele Trunkenheit
Nur Züge deiner Göttlichkeit:
In jedem Dunkel, hier und dort,
Entdeck' ich deiner Liebe Hort
Und harre demuthvoll, bis Du
Von Neuem sendest Licht und Ruh'.
THIS WORLD IS ALL A FLEETING SHOW.
This world is all a fleeting show,
For man's illusion given;
The smiles of Joy, the tears of Woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow
There's nothing true but Heaven!
And false the light on Glory's plume,
As fading hues of Even;
And Love and Hope, and Beauty's bloom,
Are blossoms gather'd for the tomb
There's nothing bright but Heaven!
Poor wanderers of a stormy day,
From wave to wave we 're driven,
And Fancy's flash, and Reason's ray,
Serve but to light the troubled way
There's nothing calm but Heaven!
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