Trinity Coliege Library Durham, N. C. Rer'd OaX, C ivuiL.S, 1H2U R £ V jp^JL T ULyvxrV i Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 with funding from Duke University Libraries https://archive.org/details/devotionalsongso01nova NOVALIS. The Devotional Songs of Novalis German and English Collected and Edited by Bernhard Pick c Chicago The Open Court Publishing Company London Agents Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner & Co. 1910 Copyright by The Open Court Publishing Co. 1910 - 233.43 H Z5W? CONTENTS. PAGE Publishers’ Preface v Introduction 1 The Redeemer. Was war’ ich ohne dich gewesen? . . 19 God Within Us. Fern im Osten wird es helle .... 33 The Son of Man. Ich weiss nicht, was ich suchen konnte 41 The Comforter. Wenn in bangen triiben Stunden ... 49 Consolation. Wer einsam sitzt in seiner Kammer . . 53 Refuge. Es giebt so bange Zeiten 59 The Hour of Bliss. Unter tausend frohen Stunden .... 65 Holy Sorrow. Weinen muss ich, immer weinen ... 71 Eastertide. Ich sag’ es jedem, dass er lebt ... 77 All in All. Wenn ich ihn nur habe 85 Faithful Unto Death. Wenn alle untreu werden 93 Epiphany. Wo bleibst du, Trost der ganzen Welt? 101 The Eucharist. Hymne 109 PUBLISHERS’ PREFACE. AT the present time much attention is shown to the psychology of religion. The emotions of the soul are studied by means of question- naires and laboratory methods. The lives of saints have been analyzed and their pathology set forth. Science seems to have superseded religion. On the other hand mysticism has by no means died out, but on the contrary has come again into the foreground in several forms, the common basis of which is that sen- timent has the right to assert itself and need not submit to the cold voice of reason. Mysticism played a great part in the history of former centuries. It actually assumed the authority of a direct religious revelation and not infrequently succeeded in dethroning rea- son and insisted on scorning science. Mysti- cism dominated in the Middle Ages and it will perhaps forever remain a power in the psy- chology of multitudes. It has exercised an enormous influence over the minds of those men whose tendency it is to live in an atmos- phere of sentiment and who are disinclined to have the light of scientific inquiry thrown on the innermost impulses of their souls. They resent a critical analysis of their own beliefs or of anything that has become sacred to them. Many men of this type are noble characters, and in former centuries they became leaders of great historic movements. They held na- tions spellbound by the enthusiasm of religious emotion. They made the people undergo most unnatural penances and submit patiently to the rule of priestcraft, and they stirred the world to adventurous crusades. When we consider the aberrations of mysti- cism, such as the practices of the flagellants, the Echtemach “dancing procession,” and the Children’s Crusade, we must grant that mys- ticism is dangerous. It is a power more ex- plosive than dynamite, and this is one reason why it has been so vigorously denounced by iis critics and antagonists. But we wish to call attention to the many great results pro- duced in innumerable homes among the Mo- ravians and other pious people and also in the religious energy of reform movements that from time to time have stirred the world since the beginning of human civilization, during the time of pre-Christian paganism and most ob- viously so in the history of the Church. All in all mysticism is a power that can work wonders for evil or for good. Mysticism, like emotionalism, has its good right to exist. Man is an emotional animal, and the multitudes will always be under the sway of sentiment. The fault of mysticism appears only when it rebels against reason and sets aside rational critique. If mysticism un- dertakes to settle questions which belong to the domain of science, it is apt to favor super- stition and may easily become a menace to civilization. There is a middle ground in judging mysti- cism. We may very well appreciate its noble qualities without accepting its extravagant claims. We need not give ear to the mystic’s denunciations of the intellect, nor assign to sentiment the ultimate control of human af- fairs. We may appreciate mysticism subject to critique and allow it a place within the do- main of sentiment. In order to gain the right attitude toward mysticism, we should study it in the minds of its noblest representatives, and there we shall learn to respect its significance. There is as little justification in rejecting or condemning mysticism as in yielding to it unreservedly. But we must guide its emotions in the right channels and select those of its manifestations which are pure and wholesome. They have been of great assistance to mankind in the past, and there is scarcely any doubt that they will be helpful also in the future, and the most precious of mystic emotions is that attitude of the soul which in one word is commonly called devotion. Friedrich von Hardenberg, who called him- self Novalis, is a most conspicuous example of vii emotional mysticism, and it is only to be re- gretted that his poetry is but little known in English speaking countries. His songs and hymns are not only well worth reading for the sake of mere literary enjoyment, but they also contain much material for the student of the psychology of religion. The charm of his songs consists in a warmth of feeling unrivalled in any other poetry, either secular or religious. What fervor, what devo- tion, what depth of love is expressed in these two lines: “Wenn ich ihn nur habe, Wenn er mein nur ist!” Whoever has read them once can never for- get them. They reveal a disposition of heart which is best described by the untranslatable German word “innig,” which characterizes a free surrender of the inmost soul. PAUL CARUS. Till INTRODUCTION. I INTRODUCTION. ■pRIEDRICH von Hardenberg, better known by the name of Novalis, was born at Wiederstedt in Mansfeld territory, near Eisleben, May 2, 1772. His father, who had been a soldier in his youth, and still retained a liking for that profession, was at this time director of the Saxon Salt- works at Weissenfels. Tieck says, “He was a vigorous, unweariedly active man, of open, resolute character, a true Ger- man. His religious feelings made him a member of the Herrnhut Communion, yet his disposition continued gay, frank, rug- ged and uncompromising.” The mother also was distinguished for her worth; “a model of noble piety and Christian mild- ness,” virtues which her subsequent life gave ample opportunity for exercising. Friedrich, her second child and first son, was very delicate in childhood; he was of a dreamy disposition and betrayed little spirit, and only the enthusiastic af- 3 fection with which he loved his mother, distinguished him beyond his apparently more gifted brothers and sisters. In con- sequence of a violent bilious disease which befell him in his ninth year, his faculties seemed to awaken into proper life, and he became the readiest and most eager learner in all branches of his studies. In his eighteenth year, after a few months of preparation in the gymnasium at Eis- leben, he repaired to Jena in 1790. Here he continued for three years, after which he spent one season in the Leipsic Uni- versity, and another at Wittenberg. At Jena he studied philosophy under Rein- hold, Fichte, and Schelling, who exerted a lasting influence upon his mind. At Leipsic he became intimately connected with Friedrich Schlegel, one of the main leaders of the so-called Romantic school, while at Wittenberg, influenced by Fried- rich von Schiller, who showed him the ideal side of practical activity, he studied chemistry, mathematics, history and juris- prudence, but especially Church history. But the time had now arrived when study must become subordinate to action, and what is called a profession had to be determined upon. At the breaking out of the French Revolution, Novalis had been seized with a strong and altogether unexpected taste for military life; how- ever, the entreaties of his relatives ulti- mately prevailed, and it was settled that he should follow his father’s line of occu- pation. In 1794 he gave up his studies at Wittenberg, and went to Tennstedt in Thuringia “to train himself in practical affairs under the Kreisamtmann Just.” Soon after his arrival at Tennstedt No- valis met Sophie von Kuehn in a country mansion of the neighborhood. She was then 13 years of age, but the first glimpse of her fair and wonderfully lovely form was decisive for his whole life. Tieck speaks of her in the following manner : “All persons that have known this won- drous loved one of our friend, agree in testifying that no description can express in what grace and celestial harmony this fair being moved, what beauty shone in her, what gentleness and majesty encir- cled her.” s The same author says: “The spring and summer of 1795 were the blooming time of Hardenb erg’s life ; every hour that he could spare from busi- ness he spent in Griiningen; and in the fall of that same year he obtained the de- sired consent of Sophie’s parents.” Unhappily, however, these halcyon days were of too short continuance. Sophie fell dangerously sick, and the 19th of March, 1797, two days after her fifteenth birthday, she passed away. The death of his beloved became to Novalis the turning-point of his inner life. It re- minded him that he also was no longer a citizen of this world, but of the other. To this period belong his “Hymnen an die Nacht,” or “Hymns to the Night,” consisting of five prose poems interspersed with verse, and a sixth entirely in verse. In these he wrote “of the vague longings or aspirations of the soul as higher and truer than all science and philosophy.” With reference to the “Hymns” Car- lyle says of Novalis: “Naturally a deep, religious, contemplative spirit, purified also, as we have seen, by harsh affliction, 6 and familiar in the ‘sanctuary of sorrow,’ he comes before us as the most ideal of all idealists.” Sophie von Hardenberg, the accom- plished authoress of “Friedrich von Har- denberg, genannt Novalis, eine Nachlese aus den Quellen des Familienarchivs” (2d ed., Gotha, 1883), says: “Why do the ‘Hymns to the Night’ so peculiarly lay hold of the soul of the reader? It is be- cause they show the transformation of the poet into a Christian. In these Hymns his deepest sorrow appears transfigured by a more than earthly splendor.” And Haym, who has given an outline of the Life of Novalis in his important work on the Romantic School, says : “The ‘Hymns to Night,’ those r-profoundly sorrowful strains of rapturous lamentation and of fervent pain, can be compared with noth- ing that our classical poetry has pro- duced.” These “Hymns to the Night” were writ- ten soon after the death of his sweet- heart, in that period of deep sorrow, or rather of holy deliverance from sorrow, and Novalis himself regarded them as his 7 most finished productions. They are of a strange, veiled, almost enigmatical char- acter; nevertheless, on closer examina- tion, they appear to be in no wise lacking true poetic worth. There is a vastness, an immensity of idea; a still solemnity reigns in them, a solitude almost as of extinct worlds. Here and there too some ray of light visits us in the deep void; and we cast a glance, clear and wondrous, into the secrets of that mysterious soul. A full commentary on the “Hymns to the Night” would be an exposition of Nova- lis’s whole theological and moral creed ; for it lies recorded there, though sym- bolically, and in lyric, not in didactic lan- guage. “Once when I was shedding bitter tears,” these are the ■words of the third hymn, “when dissolved in pain my hope had melted quite away, and I stood soli- tary by the sun-parched mound that in its dark and narrow space concealed the form of my life ; solitary as none other had ever been; pursued by unutterable anguish ; powerless ; with but one thought, and that of misery; when looking around s for help, forward I could not go, nor back- ward, but clung to a transient extin- guished life with unutterable longing; — lo, from the azure distance, down from the heights of my former blessedness, came a chill breath of dusk, and suddenly the bond of birth, the fetter of life was snapped asunder. Vanished the glory of earth and with it my lamenting; my in- finite sadness melted into a new unfath- omable world; thou Inspiration of Night, Heaven’s own Slumber, earnest over me; the scene rose gently aloft; above it hov- ered my enfranchized new-born spirit. Into a cloud of dust had changed that grave; through the cloud I beheld the transfigured features of my beloved one. In her eyes lay eternity; I clasped her hand, and my tears flowed in a glittering stream. Millenniums passed into the dis- tance, like thunder-clouds. On her neck I wept tears of rapture for this new life. — It was my first, mine only dream, and only since that time have I felt an ever- lasting changeless faith in the heaven of night, and in its sun, my beloved.” The sixth hymn, entitled “Sehnsucht 9 nach dem Tode” (i. e., “Longing for Death”), begins: “Hinunter in der Erde Schooss.” It has been translated by Helen Lowe in her “Prophecy of Balaam” (1841) and reproduced in the “Lyra Mystica” (1864). With some alterations it reads thus: “Into earth’s bosom let me go, Far from light’s realms descending! These stinging pains and this wild woe Portend a blissful ending. The narrow bark shall waft us o’er, Full soon to land on Heaven’s calm shore. “Praised be that everlasting night; Praised, never-broken slumber; Day with its toils hath worn us quite, And cares too long encumber; Now vain desires and roamings cease. We seek our Father’s House in peace. “What should we do in this cold world With Love and Truth so tender? Old things are in oblivion hurled, The new no gladness render: O sorrowful his heart and lone Who reverent loves the past and gone! “Those ages past, whose purer race, High thoughts with ardor fired, When man beheld our Father’s Face, And knew His Hand desired; While many a simple mind sincere Resembled still His image clear. “Those days of old, when spreading wide Ancestral trees were growing; When even children joyful died, Their deep devotion showing; While though life laughed and pleasure . . spake, Yet many a heart for strong Love brake. “Those times of yore when God revealed Himself in young life glowing; With early death His Passion sealed, His precious Blood bestowing; Nor turned aside the stings of pain Us nearer to Himself to gain. “Through deepening mists how vainly gaze Our fond thoughts, backward turning; Nought in this dreary age allays The thirst within us burning; We must arrive our home within That ancient Holiness to win. “What still delays our wished return? The Loved have long been sleeping; Their graves our earthly journey’s bourne— Enough of fear and weeping! With fruitless striving long annoyed The heart is weary, the world a void. “Strange rapture ever new, unknown, Through the faint frame is thrilling; Hark! the soft echo of our moan The hollow distance filling; Whence toward us our loved ones bend, Their breathings of desire ascend. “Down to the loved bride we go, To Jesus gone before us; Be of good comfort, mourners; lo! Grey twilight deepens o’er us; A dream dissolves our chains unblest, Our Father, take us to His Rest.” A few months after writing his “Hymns to the Night,” Novalis was cured of his morbid desire for death, and in the au- tumn of 1797 he went to Freiberg to enter the academy of mining, which flourished under the famous Werner, whom Novalis describes in his “Lehrlinge zu Sais” (“Stu- dents atSais”), an unfinished philosophical romance. To this Freiberg period belong also his “Fragments,” known as “Bliithen- staub” (i. e., “Pollen of Flowers”) ; “Glau- ben und Liebe” (“Faith and Love”), to- gether with some minor poetical pieces, which he called “Blumen” (i. e., “Flow- ers”) ; all of which were published in Schlegel’s “Athenaeum” of 1798 and 1800, 12 under the pseudonym “Novalis” then as- sumed by him. About a year after the death of his first love, Novalis formed an acquaintance with Julie von Charpentier and became en- gaged to marry her, although his Sophie continued to be the center of his thoughts ; nay, as one departed, like Dante’s Bea- trice, she stood in higher reverence with him than when visible and near. Soon after this Novalis formed an acquaintance with the elder Schlegel, who, together with Tieck whom he first met in Jena, seems to have occasioned frequent inter- ruptions in the young student’s work. From Artern at the foot of the Kyffhauser Mountain, Novalis went very often to Jena to see his friends, and on one such occasion in the autumn of 1799, he read to them certain of his “Devotional Songs,”* which were to form part of a Christian hymnbook, which he meant to accompany with a collection of sermons. About this time he composed the first volume of his “Heinrich von Ofterdingen,” a sort of * “Geistliche Lieder.” 13 art-romance, intended as he himself said, to be an “Apotheosis of Poetry.” In 1800, Novalis, who for years had had a tendency to consumption, was taken with the disease in its most acute form ; and in the days of his sickness he enjoyed communion with the writings of Lavater, Zinzendorf, and other mystical writers, as well as with the Biblical treasures. He died March 25, 1801, in the house of his parents, gently and to the music of the piano which he had asked his brother to play. “The expression of his face,” says Tieck, “was very much like that of John the Evangelist, shown in Albert Diirer’s glorious engraving. . . His friend- liness, his geniality, made him universally beloved .... He could be as happy as a child; he jested with cheerfulness, and permitted himself to become the object of jests for the company. Free from all vanity and pride of learning, a stranger to all affectation and hypocrisy, he was a genuine true man, the purest and most lovely embodiment of a noble immortal spirit.” In the second edition of his “Reden 14 iiber Religion” (“Discourses on Relig- ion”), Schleiermacher speaks thus of No- valis: “I shall point you to a glorious ex- ample, which you all ought to know: to that divine youth who too early fell asleep, to whom all that his spirit touched became art, and whose whole perception of the world became immediately a great poem ; and whom although he has hardly done more in fact than utter his first strains, — you must associate with the richest poets, those few who are as profound as they are vital and clear. In him behold the power of the inspiration and reflective- ness of a pious soul; and confess that when philosophers will be religious and seek God, like Spinoza, and artists will be pious and love Christ, like Novalis, then will the great resurrection be celebrated for both their worlds.” Novalis is best known inProtestant Ger- many by his “Devotional Songs,” which will always remain his lasting monument, since they are the keynote of his love for his Saviour; and though they do not bear the stamp of church hymns, still they are adapted for singing in quiet solitude, even is within the heart. Schlegel pronounced Novalis’s songs “the divinest” things he ever wrote, and through the influence of Schleiermacher some have been included in the “Berliner Gesangbuch.” Schleier- macher quoted these hymns in the pulpit with deep emotion. Rothe, the greatest theologian since Schleiermacher, has writ- ten a sympathetic and appreciative essay on our poet in which he says: “Novalis is the type of a modern religious poet, and even of a Christian life that only in the future will attain its full realization.” Pfleiderer — no friend of the Romantic School of pietism — says: “Nowhere is there any sweeter or more powerful ex- pression of that warm and hearty inward- ness of Protestant mysticism which mani- fested itself in pietism, and exercised so precious and salutary an influence on the German people, then stiff and frozen from the hands of supernaturalists and ration- alists alike, than in the “Devotional Songs” of Novalis. They are the true Song of Songs of pious love for the Saviour, and express the whole gamut of its feelings from the deepest sorrow to the highest To blessedness and joy. He who gave the Protestant Church these hymns, which belong to the most precious jewels of the religious poetry of all ages, he surely — Romanticism notwithstanding — was a good Evangelical Christian.” (“Philos- ophy of Religion,” I, 274.) Beyschlag, who has edited his “Devo- tional Songs,” dwells with deep admiration on “the charm of inward truth” and the spiritual elevation of these remarkable Christian hymns. The publication of Carlyle’s memorable essay on Novalis in 1829, contributed not a little to make “the chords of many an English heart thrill under the fascination and mysteriousness of his poetical thought,” and as early as in 1841 we meet with an English translation of some of the poetical pieces of Novalis. “As a poet,” says Carlyle, “Novalis is no less idealistic than as a philosopher. His poems are breathings of a high, devout soul, feeling always that here he has no home, but looking, as in clear vision to a ‘city that hath foundations.’ He loves external nature with a singular depth, 1 7 nay, we might say, he reverences her, and holds unspeakable communings with her; for Nature is no longer dead, hostile matter, but the veil and mysterious gar- ment of the Unseen; as it were, the Voice with which the Deity proclaims to man. These two qualities, — his pure religious temper, and heartfelt love of nature, — bring him into true poetic relation both with the spiritual and the material world, and perhaps constitute his chief work as a poet.” It is to be regretted that the English essayist had so little to say of Novalis’s “Devotional Songs” which Schlegel and Tieck regarded as his most important poetical productions. “They are Chris- tian hymns of great merit and deep fer- vent sincerity. They display the genius of the Romantic School in its purest and highest application, and are appropriately ranked with Schleiermacher’s ‘Discourses on Religion,’ as regards their spiritual feeling and enduring worth.” 18 THE REDEEMER. 10 It is related that the father of Novalis heard a wonderfully beautiful hymn sung at a Moravian service, by which he was deeply moved; and on inquiring as to who was the author, he received the answer: “O! do you not know that your own son composed that hymn?” 20 I. TT 7AS war’ ich ohne dich gewesen? Was wiird’ ich ohne dich nicht sein? Zu Furcht und Aengsten auserlesen, Stand’ ich in weiter Welt allein. Nichts wusst’ ich sicher, was ich liebte, Die Zukunft war’ ein dunkler Schlund; Und wenn mein Herz sich tief betriibte, Wem that’ ich meine Sorge kund? Einsam verzehrt von Lieb’ und Sehnen, Erschien mir nachtlich jeder Tag ; Ich folgte nur mit heissen Thranen Dem wilden Lauf des Lebens nach. Ich fande Unruh im Getummel, Und hoffnungslosen Gram zu Haus. Wer hielte ohne Freund im Himmel, Wer hielte da auf Erden aus? Hat Christus sich mir kund gegeben, Und bin ich seiner erst gewiss, Wie schnell verzehrt ein lichtes Leben Die bodenlose Finsterniss. Mit ihm bin ich erst Mensch geworden; Das Schicksal wird verklart durch ihn, Und Indien muss selbst im Norden Um den Geliebten frohlich bliihn. Das Leben wird zur Liebesstunde, Die ganze Welt spricht Lieb’ und Lust, Ein heilend Kraut wachst jeder Wunde, Und frei und voll klopft jede Brust. Fur alle seine tausend Gaben Bleib’ ich sein demuthvolles Kind, Gewiss ihn unter uns zu haben, Wenn zwei auch nur versammelt sind. O! geht hinaus auf alien Wegen, Und holt die Irrenden herein, Streckt jedem eure Hand entgegen, Und ladet froh sie zu uns ein. Der Himmel ist bei uns auf Erden, Im Glauben schauen wir ihn an; Die Eines Glaubens mit uns werden, Auch denen ist er aufgethan. Ein alter, schwerer Wahn von Siinde War fest an unser Herz gebannt; Wir irrten in der Nacht wie Blinde, Von Reu und Lust zugleich entbrannt. Ein jedes Werk schien uns Verbrechen, Der Mensch ein Gotterfeind zu sein, Und schien der Himmel uns zu sprechen. So sprach er nur von Tod und Pein. 22 Das Her z, des Lebens reiche Quelle, Ein boses Wesen wohnte drinn; Und wards in unserm Geiste helle, So war nur Unruh der Gewinn, Ein eisern Band hielt an der Erde Die bebenden Gefangnen fest; Furcht vor des Todes Richterschwerte Verschlang der Hoffnung Ueberrest. Da kam ein Heiland, ein Befreier, Ein Menschensohn voll Lieb’ und Macht, Und hat ein allbelebend Feuer In unserm Innern angefac’nt. Nun sah’n wir erst den Himmel offcn Als unser altes Vaterland; Wir konnten glauben nun und hoffen, Und fiihlten uns mit Gott verwandt. Seitdem verschwand bei uns die Siinde, Und frohlich wurde jeder Schritt; Man gab zum schonsten Angebinde Den Kindern diesen Glauben mit ; Durch ihn geheiligt zog das Leben Voriiber wie ein sel’ger Traum, Und ew’ger Lieb und Lust ergeben, Bemerkte man den Abschied kaum. 23 Noch steht in wunderbarem Glanze Der heilige Geliebte hier; Geriihrt von seinem Dornenkranze Und seiner Treue, weinen wir. Ein jeder Mensch ist uns willkommen, Der seine Hand mit uns ergreift, Und, in sein Herz mit aufgenommen, Zur Frucht des Paradieses reift. (First Version.) 'VI7ITHOUT thee, what were I worth being? Without thee, what had I not grown? Anguish and fear all round me seeing. In the wide world I stood alone; For all I loved had found no shelter; The future a dim gulf had lain; And when my heart in tears did welter, To whom had I poured out my pain? Consumed in love and longing lonely. Each day had worn the night’s dull face ; With hot tears I had followed only Afar life’s wildly-rushing race. 24 In crowded streets, all restless driven, Grief-gnawed beside the hopeless hearth— What man without a friend in heaven Could bear his burden on the earth? But if his heart once Jesus bareth, And I of him right sure can be, How soon a living glory scareth The bottomless obscurity! Manhood in him first man attaineth; All fate in him transfigured glows ; On frozen Iceland India gaineth, And round the loved one blooms and blows. Life turns a twilight softly stealing, The world speaks all of love and glee ; Grows for each wound a herb of healing, And every heart beats full and free. I, for his thousand-folded giving, His humble child, his knees embrace ; Sure that we share his presence living When two are gathered in one place. Forth, forth to all highways and hedges ! Compel the wanderers to come in; 25 Stretch out the hand that good-will pledges, And glad invite them to their kin. See heaven from lowly earth up-dawning ! By faith we see it round us spread: To all with us one spirit owning, To them with us ’tis opened. An old and heavy guilt-illusion — Oppressed our hearts with ancient doom ; Blindly we strayed in night’s confusion: Pleasure and pain did both consume. Whate’er we did, some law was broken ; Mankind appeared God’s enemy; And if we thought the heavens had spoken, They spoke but death and misery. The heart, of life the fountain swelling — An evil creature lay therein; If more light shone into our dwelling. More unrest only did we win. Down to the earth an iron fetter Fast held us, trembling captive crew; Fear of Law’s sword, with Death the whetter, Did swallow up hope’s residue. 26 Then came a saviour to deliver— A son of man in love and might ! A holy fire, of life all-giver, In our dull hearts he set a light. Then first heaven opened; then, no fable, Our own old Fatherland we trod; To hope and trust now first were able, And knew ourselves akin to God. Then vanished sin’s old specter dismal; Our every step grew glad and brave ! Best natal gift, in rite baptismal, Their own faith men their children gave. Holy in him, life since hath floated Like happy dream across the heart ; To endless love and joy devoted, We hardly know it, when we part. Still stands in wonder glory-waking, The holy shepherd midst his sheep; With his thorn-crown, and faithful story, Our hearts are broken, and we weep. Welcome whoso from death will waken, And grasp his hand of sacrifice; Into his heart with us he’s taken, To ripe a fruit of Paradise. G. Macdonald in “Good Words,” 1871. 27 (Second Version.) O WHAT would I have been without thee? What without thee would I be not? Dark fear and anguish were about me, Alone in this wide world, my lot. No certain love had I been proving, The future, an abyss concealed ; When sorrows deep my heart were mov- ing, To whom had I my care revealed? Alone, consumed by love and longing, Each day appeared as dark as night; And, though hot tears were ever throng- ing, I rushed along life’s wildered flight; By unrest through the turmoil driven, I felt a hopeless grief within; Who could without a friend in Heav’n, On earth a sure stay ever win? But now has Christ, himself revealing, Become to me the Truth, the Way; The Light of Life, past all concealing, Drives boundless darkness quick away ; With him is manhood crowned by duty, And fate through him doth glorious show ; 22 Ev’n in the north all India’s beauty, Must round this loved one joyous blow. Life now is filled with love o’erflowing, The whole world speaks of love and rest ; Now leaves to heal all wounds are grow- ing, And free and full beats every breast. For all his thousand gifts so precious, His humble child, I hold him dear; And in our midst he comes most gracious Where two or three are gathered here. O go ye out o’er all the highways, And bring the wanderers gently in And even in the darkest byways, Let Love’s glad call the fallen win; For Heaven is now on earth appearing, In faith we can behold it plain; To all it opens, who are hearing In faith the truths that shall remain. Sin’s old and heavy curse, past hoping, Had all our hearts to frenzy turned; We wandered in the night, blind, groping. While both remorse and pleasure burned ; 29 And every deed seemed unforgiven, Man felt himself to God a foe ; And seemed a voice to speak from Heaven, It spake alone of death and woe. Within the heart where life should brighten, An evil spirit dwelt and reigned; If truths betimes the soul did lighten, But more unrest was all it gained ; An iron hand in earth’s dark prison, Held fast the soul in dread of doom ; And Death’s drawn sword in fearful vis- ion, Did what remained of hope consume. Then came a Saviour to deliver, The Son of Man with love and power ; He lit within the fire that never Will cease to glow till life’s last hour; And now we see the opened Heaven, Eternal home for our abode ; And to us faith and hope are given, That we may feel akin with God. Now conquered Sin hath lost his terror, And joyous every step is now; 3 ° And this pure faith to guard from error We wreathe around the children’s brow. And by it life new consecrated, Now flows on like a blessed dream ; And by eternal love elated, The glad farewell no death doth seem. And still in wondrous glory living, The Holy Saviour standeth near; His crown of thorns, his faithful giving, Still draw from us affection’s tear. Then welcome all whose sins are wipen, Who seize his hand, his goodness prize ; They, in his heart received, shall ripen To golden fruit of Paradise. W. Hastie in “Hymns and Thoughts on Religion by Novalis,” 1888. GOD WITHIN US. 33 II. T^ERN im Osten wird es helle, Graue Zeiten werden jung; Aus der lichten Farbenquelle Einen langen tiefen Trunk! Alter Sehnsucht heilige Gewahrung, Siisse Lieb’ in gottlicher Verklarung! Endlich kommt zur Erde nieder Aller Himmel sel’ges Kind; Schaffend im Gesang weht wieder Um die Erde Lebenswind, Weht zu neuen ewig lichten Flammen Langst verstiebte Funken hier zusammen. Ueberall entspringt aus Griiften Neues Leben, neues Blut; Ew’gen Frieden uns zu stiften, Taucht er in die Lebensflut; Steht mit vollen Handen in der Mitte, Liebevoll gewartig jeder Bitte. Lasse seine milden Blicke Tief in deine Seele gehn, Und von seinem ew’gen Gliicke Sollst du dich ergriffen sehn. Alle Herzen, Geister und die Sinnen Werden einen neuen Tanz beginnen. 35 Greife dreist nach seinen Handen, Prage dir sein Antlitz ein; Musst dich immer nach ihm wenden, Bluthe nach dem Sonnenschein ; Wirst du nur das ganze Herz ihm zeigen, Bleibt er wie ein treues Weib dir eigen. Unser ist sie nun ge worden, Gottheit, die uns oft erschreckt, Hat im Siiden and im Norden Himmelskeime rasch geweckt; Und so lasst im vollen Gottesgarten Treu uns jede Knosp’ und Bluthe warten. (First Version.) A FAR the eastern sky is glowing, Hoary time again grows young; From golden springs of light fairflowing Take one draught inspiring, long: Blessed fulfilment of long yearnings old, Godlike apparent, gentlest love behold. At last, at last to earth descending, The holy Child of Heaven is come; 36 Gales of life in music blending Breathe o’er the land awakening bloom, Breathe into flame that nevermore ex- pires The scattered embers of extinguished fires. From the deep abyss reviving New life and energies upspring, See him in Life’s ocean diving Endless peace for us to bring: Lo! in the midst with bliss-bestowing hands Heedful of every suppliant He stands. Let his aspect mildly beaming. Deeply sink thy soul within; Thus his joys unmeasured streaming O’er thee, ever shalt thou win: All spirits, hearts and reasonings of men In choral harmony shall mingle then. To reach his arms be thy endeavor; Impressed within his traits instil ; Towards him must thou turn forever, Spread forth unto the sunshine still : 37 Lay bare thine heart to him, let all else perish, And like a faithful spouse he will thee cherish. Now to dwell with us is given The Godhead once terrific found; Wakening to life the seed of Heaven, From the north to southern bound: Wait awhile, and God’s own garden fair For us unfading flower and fruit shall bear. H. Lowe in “Lyra Messianica.” (Second Version.) T^AR in east the dawn is glowing, Grey old times becoming young ; From Light’s radiant fountain flowing, Streaks of glory bright are flung: Ancient yearnings, holy adumbration, Finding Love’s divine transfiguration. Down at last to earth descending, Comes Heav’n’s own all-blessed Child; Breezes blown from pure skies bending, Breathe round earth a music mild: 38 Breathing fan to new eternal splendor Life’s long hidden spark in brighter won- der. From deep vaults illumined never, Springs new life in leaf and bud; Since he, bringing peace forever, Plunged into Life’s foaming flood ; Now his hands are stretched forth full and pressing, Lovingly to all who ask his blessing. Let his glances, mild and gracious, Deeply sink into thy soul; And his joy, eternal, precious, Over thee shall ever roll; All hearts and thoughts, with all their sense and willing, Shall then begin to joy in Life’s fulfilling. Boldly seize those hands appealing, By his radiant face be won; Turn to him with all thy feeling, Like the flower toward the sun; If but to him thou turn’st, thy whole heart showing, He’ll prove thy faithful bride, his heart bestowing. 39 New Power divine to us is given, Godhead which us oft dismayed; From south to north, the germs of Heaven Divinely waked, are full displayed; So let us now, in God’s own garden grow- ing, Wait faithful till each bud’s eternal blow- ing. W. Hastie. 40 THE SON OF MAN. 4 « III. T CH weiss nicht, was ich suchen konnte, War’ jenes liebe Wesen mein, Wenn er mich seine Freude nennte, Und bei mir war’, als war’ ich sein. So viele gehn umher und suchen Mit wild verzerrtem Angesicht; Sie heissen immer sich die Klugen, Und kennen diesen Schatz doch nicht. Der eine denkt, er hat’s ergriffen, Und was er hat, ist nichts als Gold; Der will die ganze Welt umschiffen, — Nichts als ein Name wird sein Sold. Der lauft nach einem Siegerkranze, Und der nach einem Lorbeerzweig, Und so wird von verschied’nem Glanze Getauscht ein jeder, keiner reich. Hat Er sich euch nicht kund gegeben? Vergasst ihr, wer fiir euch erblich? Wer uns zu Lieb’ aus diesem Leben In bittrer Qual verachtet wich? 43 n Habt ihr von Ihm denn nichts gelesen, Kein armes Wort von ihm gehort? Wie himmlisch gut Er uns gewesen, Und welches Gut Er uns bescheert? Wie Er vom Himmel hergekommen, Der schonsten Mutter hohes Kind? Welch’ Wort die Welt von Ihm vernom- men, Wie viel durch Ihn genesen sind? Wie er von Liebe nur beweget Sich ganz uns hingegeben hat, Und in die Erde sich geleget Zum Grundstein einer Gottesstadt? Kann diese Botschaft euch nicht riihren, 1st so ein Mensch euch nicht genug, Und offnet ihr nicht eure Thiiren Dem, der den Abgrund fur euch schlug? Lasst ihr nicht alles willig fahren, Thut gern auf jeden Wunsch Verzicht; Wollt euer Herz nur Ihm bewahren, Wenn Er euch seine Huld verspricht? 44 Nimm du mich hin, du Held der Liebe ! Du bist mein Leben, meine Welt; Wenn nichts vom Irdischen mir bliebe, So weiss ich wer mich schadlos halt. Du giebst mir meine Lieben wieder, Du bleibst in Ewigkeit mir treu; Anbetend sinkt der Himmel nieder, Und dennoch wohnest du mir bei. (English Version.) T KNOW not what I could desire A Wert thou, dear being, only mine ; Wert thou to crown my soul with glad- ness, And still be near and call me thine. The vexed crowd to and fro are hurrying, With eager glance they search around ; They call themselves the wise, the pru- dent, And yet this treasure have not found. 45 One thinks his hand the prize now grasp- ing— Lo ! what he hath is naught but gold ; Another earth and sea exploring. Has for a name his quiet sold. One for the crown of victory striveth, One for the poet’s wreath of bay, And thus the ever-changing glitter Attracting all doth each betray. To you hath he himself revealed not? Can you forget who died for you? Who for your sakes from life departed— Yea, scorn and bitter anguish knew? Have ye not read, have ye not listened? Of him, from him, ne’er heard a word? How he brought down divinest mercy, What endless good on us conferred? How from high heaven he descended, The exalted son of mother blest? What tidings to the earth he carried — How many healed by him find rest? How by pure love drawn down, he offered Himself for us, a victim free? Low laid in earth, of God’s own temple The eternal corner-stone to be? 46 And shall not such a message move you? Is not this man sufficient found? Your doors to him will ye not open Who passed for you hell’s dismal bound? Will ye not then lose all things gladly, Forego with joy each idle thought, Your hearts for him alone reserving Whose grace is promised you unbought? Lift thou me up, thou gentle Saviour! Thou art my world, my life is thine ; Though naught of earthly hope were left me, I know my recompense divine. Thou all my love with love returnest ; Thy truth forever shall endure ; The heavens bow down in adoration; Thou dwellest still within me sure. H. Lowe in “Lyra Mystica.” 47 THE COMFORTER. 49 IV. "ITHTENN in bangen trliben Stunden ’ ^ Unser Her z beinah verzagt, Wenn, von Krankheit iiberwunden, Angst an unserm Innern nagt, Wir der Treugeliebten denken, Wie sie Gram und Kummer driickt, Wolken unsern Blick beschranken, Die kein Hoffnungsstrahl durchblickt: O dann neigt sich Gott heriiber, Seine Liebe kommt uns nah; Sehnen wir uns dann hiniiber, Steht sein Engel vor uns da, Bringt den Kelch des frischen Lebens, Lispelt Muth und Trost uns zu, Und wir beten nicht vergebens Auch fur die Geliebten Ruh. (English Version.) T!K7HEN in hours of fear and failing, * * All but quite our heart despairs ; When, with sickness driven wailing, Anguish at our bosom tears; 51 When our loved ones we remember; All their grief and trouble rue ; And the clouds of our December Let no beam of hope shine through; Then, oh then! God bends him o’er us; Then his love grows very clear; Long we heavenward then — before us Lo, his angel standing near ! Fresh the cup of life he reaches ; Whispers courage, comfort new; Nor in vain our prayer beseeches Rest for the beloved too. G. Macdonald. 52 CONSOLATION. 53 V. TTC 7ER einsam sitzt in seiner Kammer. ’ * Und schwere bittre Thranen weint, Wem nur gefarbt von Noth und Jammer Die Nachbarschaft umher erscheint; Wer in das Bild vergangner Zeiten Wie tief in einen Abgrund sieht, In welchen ihn von alien Seiten Ein susses Weh hinunter zieht; — Es ist, als lagen Wunderschatze Da unten fur ihn aufgehauft, Nach deren Schloss in wilder Hetze Mit athemloser Brust er greift; Die Zukunft liegt in oder Diirre Entsetzlich lang und bang vor ihm ; Er schweift umher, allein und irre, Und sucht sich selbst mit UngestUm:— ■ Ich fall’ ihm weinend in die Arme ; Auch mir war einst wie dir zu Muth: Doch ich genas von meinem Harme, Und weiss nun, wo man ewig ruht. 55 Dich muss, wie mich, ein Wesen tro- sten, Das innig liebte, litt und starb; Das selbst fur die, die ihm am wehsten Gethan, mit tausend Freuden starb. Er starb, und dennoch all Tage Vernimmst du seine Lieb’ und ihn, Und kannst getrost in jeder Lage Ihn zartlich in die Arme ziehn. Mit ihm kommt neues Blut und Leben In dein erstorbenes Gebein, Und wenn du ihm dein Herz gegeben. So ist auch seines ewig dein. Was du verlorst, hat er gefunden; Du triffst bei ihm, was du geliebt, Und ewig bleibt mit dir verbunden, Was seine Hand dir wiedergiebt. (English Version.) TI7HO in his chamber sitteth lonely, And weepeth heavy, bitter tears; To whom in doleful colors only, Of want and woe, the world appears; 56 Who of the past, gulf-like receding, Would search with questing eyes the core, Down into which a sweet woe, pleading, From all sides wiles him evermore;— ’Tis as a treasure past believing Heaped up for him all waiting stood, Whose hoard he seeks, with bosom heav- ing, Outstretched hands and fevered blood; He sees the future, arid, meager, In horrid length before him lie; Alone he roams the waste, and, eager, Seeks his old self with restless cry:— Into his arms I sink, all tearful: I once, like thee, with woe was wan; But I am well, and whole, and cheerful, And know the eternal rest of man. Thou too must find the one consoler Who inly loved, endured, and died — For those who wrought him keenest dolor, With thousandfold rejoicing died. 57 He died — and yet, fresh every morrow, His love and him thine eyes behold : Reach daring arms, in joy or sorrow, And to thy heart him, ardent, fold. From him new life-blood will be driven Through thy dry bones that withering pine ; And once thy heart to him is given, Then is his heart forever thine. What thou didst lose, he found, he hold- eth; With him thy love thou soon shalt see ; And evermore thy heart infoldeth What once his hand restores to thee. G. Macdonald. 58 REFUGE. 59 VI. ■pS giebt so bange Zeiten, Es giebt so triiben Muth, Wo alles sich von weiten Gespenstisch zeigen thut. Es schleichen wilde Schrecken, So angstlich leise her, Und tiefe Nachte decken Die Seele zentnerschwer. Die sichern Stiitzen schwanken; Kein Halt der Zuversicht; Der Wirbel der Gedanken Gehorcht dem Willen nicht. Der Wahnsinn sieht und locket Unwiderstehlich hin ; Der Puls des Lebens stocket, Und stumpf ist jeder Sinn. Wer hat das Kreuz erhoben Zum Schutz fur jedes Herz? Wer wohnt im Himmel droben, Und hilft in Angst und Schmerz? Geh zu dem Wunderstamme, Gieb stiller Sehnsucht Raum; Aus ihm geht eine Flamme Und zehrt den schweren Traum. Ein Engel zieht dich wieder Gerettet auf den Strand, Du schaust voll Freuden nieder In das gelobte Land. (First Version.) ^T^HE times are all so fearful! * The heart so full of cares! To eyes that question tearful The future spectral stares. Wild terrors creep and hover With foot so ghastly soft ! The soul black midnights cover Like mountains piled aloft. Firm props like reeds are waving ; For trust is left no stay; The thoughts, with whirlpool-raving, No more the will obey. 62 Frenzy, with eye resistless, Decoys from Truth’s defense; Life’s pulse is flagging listless, And dull is every sense. Who hath the cross upheaved, To shelter and make whole? Who lives from sight received, That he may help the soul? Haste to the tree of wonder ; Give silent longing room ; Outgoing flames asunder Will cleave the phantom-gloom. Draws thee an angel tender In safety on the strand; Lo! at thy feet in splendor, Outspreads the promised land. G. Macdonald. (Second Version.) 'T'HERE are dark hours of sadness, A Dark hours of hopeless pain, When thoughts akin to madness Flash wildly through the brain, 63 When nameless anguish presses The heart beyond control, And deepest gloom possesses The faint and trembling soul; When every prop seems taken From life’s receding shore, And the mind, tempest-shaken, Obeys the will no more, ^ ^ ^ But who, from yonder heaven, Pities each earthly woe ! Who yonder cross has given For every grief below! Thine arms around it twining, To hope and prayer give room, For there a flame is shining, To light thy path of gloom; An angel form advances, And leads thee to that strand, Whence thy delighted glances May see the promised land. From “Evenings with the Sacred Poets” With omission of the 4th stanza. 64 THE HOUR OF BLISS. 65 U NTER tausend frohen Stunden, So im Leben ich gefunden, Blieb nur eine mir getreu: Eine, wo in tausend Schmerzen Ich erfuhr in meinem Herzen, Wer fiir uns gestorben sei. Meine Welt war mir zerbrochen; Wie von einem Wurm gestochen Welkte Herz und Bliithe mir; Meines Lebens ganze Habe, Jeder Wunsch lag mir im Grabe, Und zur Qual war ich noch hier. Da ich so im Stillen krankte, Ewig weint’ und wegverlangte, Und nur blieb vor Angst und Wahn Ward mir plotzlich, wie von oben, Weg des Grabes Stein geschoben, Und mein Innres aufgethan. Wen ich sah, und wen an seiner Hand erblickte, frage keiner; Ewig werd’ ich dies nur sehn, Und von alien Lebensstunden Wird nur die, wie meine Wunden, Ewig heiter often stehn. (First Version.) the thousand hours of gladness Which I found amid life’s sadness, One doth still supreme abide; One ’mid thousand sorrows glowing, Taught my heart its highest knowing: Who for us hath lived and died. All my world was broken lying; As from gnawing canker dying, Heart and blossom pined away; All my life’s possessions cherished Every wish in dust had perished, But to torture came the day. As I thus in silence sickened, Longed for death as sorrows thickened, And but stayed from frantic fear; Then on sudden as from heaven, The stone from off the grave was riven, And all within was bright and clear. 68 Whom I saw, and whom beholden By his side in vision golden, Ask not: for it still I see; But of all life’s hours of joyance, That hour shall from all destroyance, Ever fair and open be. W. Hastie. (Second Version.) O F a thousand hours me meeting And on life’s path gayly greeting, One alone hath kept its faith; — That wherein — ah, sorely grieved!— In my heart I first perceived Who for us hath died the death. All my world to dust was beaten; As a worm had through them eaten, Withered in me heart and bloom; All my life had sought and cherished, In the grave had from me perished; Anguish only was my doom. While I thus, in silence pining, Ever wept, my life resigning, And but waste and woe descried; All at once the night was cloven, 69 From my grave the stone was hoven, And my inner doors thrown wide. Whom I saw, and who the other, Ask me not, my friend, my brother!— Sight to fill eternal eyes! Lone in all life’s eves and morrows, This one moment, like my sorrows, Shining open ever lies. G. Macdonald. HOLY SORROW. 71 VIII. ■ITHTEINEN muss ich, immer weinen: * * Mocht’ er einmal nur erscheinen, Einmal nur von feme mir. Heil’ge Wehmuth! ewig wahren Meine Schmerzen, meine Zahren; Gleich erstarren mocht’ ich hier. Ewig seh ich ihn nur leiden, Ewig bittend ihn verscheiden: O dass dieses Herz nicht bricht, Meine Augen sich nicht schliessen; Ganz in Thranen zu zerfliessen, Dieses Gluck verdient’ ich nicht. Weint denn keiner nicht von alien? Soil sein Name so verhallen? 1st die Welt auf einmal todt? Werd’ ich nie aus seinen Augen Wieder Lieb’ und Leben saugen? 1st er nun auf ewig todt? Todt, — was kann, was soil das heissen? O so sagt mir doch, ihr Weisen, Sagt mir diese Deutung an. 73 Er ist stumm, und alle schweigen; Keiner kann auf Erden zeigen, Wo mein Herz ihn finden kann. Nirgend kann ich hier auf Erden Jemals wieder gliicklich werden, Alles ist ein diistrer Traum. Ich bin auch mit ihm verschieden; Lag’ ich doch mit ihm in Frieden Schon im unterird’schen Raum. Du, sein Vater und der meine, Sammle du doch mein Gebeine Zu dem seinigen nur bald. Griin wird bald sein Hiigel stehen Und der Wind dariiber wehen, Und verwesen die Gestalt. Wenn sie seine Liebe wiissten, Alle Menschen wiirden Christen, Liessen alles andre stehn; Liebten alle nur den Einen, Wiirden alle mit mir weinen, Und im bittern Weh vergehn. 74 (English Version.) ■fTTEEP I must — my heart runs over: * * Would he once himself discover — Only once from far away ! Holy sorrow! still prevailing Is the weeping, is the wailing: Would I here were turned to clay ! Evermore I see him crying, Ever praying, ever dying: Will this heart unending beat? Will my eyes in death close never? Weeping all into a river Were a blessedness too sweet ! Is there none with me lamenting? Dies his name in echoes fainting? Is the peopled world struck dead? Shall I from his eyes, ah! never More drink love and life forever? Is he now and always dead? Dead! What means it — sound of dolors? Tell me then, I pray, ye scholars — What imports the symbol dim. He is dumb, and all turn fro me ; No one on the earth can show me Where my heart might look for him. 75 Earth no more while I am in it Can provide one happy minute ; All is but a dream of woe. I too am with him departed: Would I lay with him still-hearted In the region down below! Hear, oh, hear, his and my Father! Speedily my dead bones gather Unto his — oh, soon, I pray! Grass will soon his low mound cover And the wand will wander over, And the form will fade away. If his love they but perceived, Suddenly had all believed, Letting all things else go by ; Lord of love him only owning, All with me would fall bemoaning, And in bitter weeping die. G. Macdonald. 76 77 A translation of the first three and last stan- zas is also given by the late J. F. Hurst in his translation of K. Hagenbach’s “History of the Church of the 18th and 19th Centuries,” New York, 1869, Vol. II, p. 283, commencing: “To every one I say: He’s risen and lives now; He moves in our midst, And with us e’er doth go.” 78 IX. TCH sag’ es jedem, dass er lebt Und auferstanden ist, Dass er in unsrer Mitte schwebt Und ewig bei uns ist. Ich sag es jedem; jeder sagt Es seinen Freunden gleich, Dass bald an alien Orten tagt Das neue Himmelreich. Jezt scheint die Welt dem neuen Sinn Erst wie ein Vaterland; Ein neues Leben nimmt man hin Entziickt aus seiner Hand. Hinunter in das tiefe Meer Versank des Todes Graun, Und jeder kann nun leicht und hehr In seine Zukunft schau’n. Der dunkle Weg, den er betrat, Geht in den Himmel aus, Und wer nur hort auf seinen Rath Kommt auch in Vaters Haus. 79 Nun weint auch keiner mehr allhie, Wenn eins die Augen schliesst; Vom Wiedersehn, spat oder friih, Wird dieser Schmerz versiisst. Es kann zu jeder guten That Ein jeder frischer gliihn, Denn herrlich wird ihm diese Saat In schonern Fluren bliihn. Er lebt, und wird nun bei uns sein, Wenn alles uns verlasst! Und so soil dieser Tag uns sein Ein Weltverjiingungs-Fest. (First Version.) T T E lives ! he’s risen from the dead ! To every man I shout; His presence over us is spread, Goes with us in and out! To each I say it; each apace His comrades telleth too — That straight will dawn in every place The heavenly kingdom new. 8o Now to the newborn sense appears The world a fatherland; A new life men receive with tears Of rapture from his hand. Deep into soundless gulfs of sea Death’s horror sinks away; And every man with holy glee Can face his coming day. The darksome road that he hath gone Leads out on heaven’s floor; Who heeds the counsel of the Son, He finds the Father’s door. Weeping no longer shall endure For them that close their eyes ; For, soon or late, a meeting sure Shall make the loss a prize. And now to every noble deed Each heart can fresher glow ; For many a fold the scattered seed In lovelier fields will blow. 81 He lives, he sits beside our hearths, Though all friends else had ceased; Therefore this day shall be the earth’s Rejuvenescence-feast. G. Macdonald. (Second Version.) T SAY to all men, far and near, That He is risen again; That he is with us now and here, And ever shall remain. And what I say, let each this morn Go tell it to his friend, That soon in every place shall dawn His kingdom without end. Now first to souls who thus awake Seems earth a fatherland, A new and endless life they take With rapture from his hand. The tears of death and of the grave Are whelmed beneath the sea, And every heart now light and brave May face the things to be. 53 The way of darkness that he trod To heaven at last shall come, And he who hearkens to his word Shall reach his Father’s home. Now let the mourner grieve no more, Though his beloved sleep, A happier meeting shall restore Their light to eyes that weep. Now every heart each noble deed With new resolve may dare, A glorious harvest shall the seed In happier regions bear. He lives, his presence hath not ceased, Though foes and fears be rife ; And thus we hail in Easter’s feast A world renewed to life ! C. Winkworth in “Lyra Germanica,” 2d series, 1858. 83 ALL IN ALL. 85 X. TT 7ENN ich ihn nur habe, Wenn er mein nur ist, Wenn mein Herz bis hin zum Grabe Seine Treue nie vergisst: Weiss ich nichts von Leide, Fiihle nichts, als Andacht, Lieb’ und Freude. Wenn ich ihn nur habe, Lass’ ich alles gern, Folg’ an meinem Wander stabe Treugesinnt nur meinem Herrn; Lasse still die Andern Breite, lichte, voile Strassen wandern. Wenn ich ihn nur habe, Schlaf’ ich frohlich ein; Ewig wird zu siisser Labe Seines Herzens Flut mir sein, Die mit sanftem Zwingen Alles wird erweichen und durchdringen. Wenn ich ihn nur habe, Hab’ ich auch die Welt; Selig, wie ein Himmelsknabe, Der der Jungfrau Schleier halt. W Hingesenkt im Schauen, Kann mir vor dem Irdischen nicht grauen. Wo ich ihn nur habe, 1st mein Vaterland, Und es fallt mir jede Gabe Wie ein Erbtheil in die Hand ; Langst vermisste Briider Find’ ich nun in seinen Jiingern wieder. (First Version.) TF only I have thee, If only mine thou art, And to the grave Thy power to save Upholds my faithful heart, — Naught can my soul annoy, Lost in worship, love and joy. If only I have thee, I gladly all forsake. To follow on Where thou hast gone, My pilgrim staff I take; 88 Leaving other men to stray In the bright, broad, crowded way. If only I have thee, If only thou art near, In sweet repose My eyes shall close, Nor death’s dark shadow fear; And thy heart’s flood through my breast, Gently charm my soul to rest. If only I have thee, Then all the world is mine ; Like those who gaze Upon the rays That from the glory shine, Rapt in holy thought of thee, Earth can have no gloom for me. Where only I have thee, There is my fatherland; For everywhere The gifts I share From thy wide-spreading hand; And in all my human kind, Long-lost brothers dear I find. From Schaff, “Christ in Song.” 89 (Second Version.) T F only he is mine — If but this poor heart Nevermore in grief or joy, May from him depart, Then farewell to sadness, All I feel is love, and hope, and gladness. If only he is mine Then from all below, Leaning on my pilgrim-staff, Gladly forth I go From the crowd who follow In the broad, bright road, their pleasures false and hollow. If only he is mine, Then all else is given; Every blessing lifts my eyes And my heart to heaven. Filled with heavenly love, Earthly hopes and fears no longer tempt to move. There, where he is mine, Is my fatherland, 90 And my heritage of bliss, Daily cometh from his hand. Now I find again In his people love long lost, and mourned in vain. Miss Borthwick in “Hymns from the Land of Luther” (omitting the 3d stanza). (Third Version.) IF I have only him, * If he alone is mine, If e’en beyond the grave his faith My heart shall not resign, Of sorrow naught I prove, Naught feel but glad devotion, joy and love. If only he be mine All else I gladly leave ; On pilgrim-staff still follow true And to my Master cleave ; Let others fondly stray Along the broad, frequented, flowery way. If I have none but him Joyful to sleep I go; 91 Ever a sweet restoring stream His blood for me doth flow, Whose mild compelling might All things must soften, and in peace unite. If I have none but him The universe is mine ; Blest as a child of heaven that holds The Virgin’s veil divine, Wrapt in sacred thought No more by earthly cares am I distraught. Where only he is mine My fatherland I see, And every boon is on me poured As birth-right full and free: Long sought-for brothers then In his disciples I behold again. H. Lowe in “Lyra Messianica.” 92 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 93 XI. T TS7ENN alle untreu werden, ** So bleib’ ich dir doch treu; Dass Dankbarkeit auf Erden Nicht ausgestorben sei. Fur mich umfing dich Leiden, Vergingst fur mich in Schmerz; Drum geb’ ich dir mit Freuden Auf ewig dieses Herz. Oft muss ich bitter weinen, Dass du gestorben bist, Und mancher von den Deinen Dich lebenslang vergisst. Von Liebe nur durchdrungen Hast du so viel gethan, Und doch bist du verklungen Und keiner denkt daran. Du stehst voll treuer Liebe Noch immer jedem bei, Und wenn dir keiner bliebe, So bleibst du dennoch treu. Die treuste Liebe sieget; Am Ende fiihlt man sie, Weint bitterlich und schmieget Sich kindlich an dein Knie. 95 Ich habe dich empfunden; O lasse nicht von mir; Lass innig mich verbunden Auf ewig sein mit dir. Einst schauen meine Briider Auch wieder himmelwarts Und sinken liebend nieder, Und fallen dir ans Herz. (First Version.) 'T' HOUGH all men faith had banished, Still true I’d prove to thee, That gratitude quite vanished From earth might never be. For me hast thou borne sorrow, For me death’s bitter smart; Then gladly would I offer up To thee one constant heart. That thy dear life should perish My burning tears deplore, While many thou wouldst cherish Forget thee evermore. Only by love’s compulsion So greatly hast thou done, 96 Yet art thou passed from earth away And no one thinks thereon. With true love filled, unshaken, Thou standest each beside; E’en though by all forsaken, Faithful dost thou abide. The truest love must vanquish, Its power at last complete Melts the strong heart and childlike clings Submissive at thy feet. Thee have I found — O never Leave me forlorn again! Bound up in thee forever Let my whole soul remain. My brethren, too, thy glory Might they but once behold, Soon would they turn and joyful seek Thy love’s protecting fold. H. Lowe in “Lyra Eucharistica.” (Second Version.) lyiTY faith to thee I break not, If all should faithless be, 97 That gratitude forsake not The world eternally. For me sore pains did wring thee — Thou died’st in anguish sore; Therefore with joy I bring thee This heart for evermore. How oft mine eyes have streamed That thou art dead, and yet A many of thy redeemed Thee all their life forget! By love possessed and driven, For us what hast thou done! Yet is thy body riven, And no one thinks thereon. With love that’s never shaken, Thou stand’st by every man; And if by all forsaken, Art still the faithful one. Such love must win the wrestle ; At last they feel, they see ; Bitterly weep, and nestle Like children to thy knee. I in my heart have known thee — Oh do not let me go ! 9 8 In my heart’s heart enthrone thee. Till one with thee I grow. My brothers, one day, will waken, Look heavenward with a start; Then sinking down, love-shaken, Will fall upon thy heart. G. Macdonald in “Exotics,” 1876. HOUGH all to thee were faithless, I yet were true, my Head, To show that love is deathless, From earth not wholly fled. Here didst thou live in sadness, And die in pain for me, Wherefore I give with gladness My heart and soul to thee. I could weep night and morning That thou hast died, and yet So few will heed thy warning, So many thee forget. O loving and true-hearted, How much for us didst thou! Yet is thy fame departed, And none regards it now. (Third Version.) 99 But still thy love befriends us, Of every heart the guide; Unfailing help it lends us, Though all had turned aside. Oh! such love soon or later Must conquer, must be felt, Then at thy feet the traitor In bitter tears shall melt. Lord, I have inly found thee, Depart thou not from me, But wrap thy love around me, And keep me close to thee. Once too my brethren, yonder Upgazing where thou art, Shall learn thy love with wonder, And sink upon thy heart. C. Winkworth in “Lyra Germanica,” 1st series. IOO EPIPHANY. 101 XII. TTSTO bleibst du,Trost der ganzenWelt? ^ * Herberg’ ist dir schon langst bestellt. Verlangend sieht ein jedes dich Und offnet deinem Segen sich. Geuss, Vater, ihn gewaltig aus, Gieb ihn aus deinem Arm heraus: Nur Unschuld, Lieb’ und siisse Scham Hielt ihn, dass er nicht langst schon kam. Treib’ ihn von dir in unsern Arm. Dass er von deinem Hauch noch warm; In schweren Wolken sammle ihn Und lass ihn so hernieder ziehn. In kiihlen Stromen send’ ihn her, In Feuerflammen lodre er, In Luft und Oel, in Klang und Thau Durchdring’ er unsrer Erde Bau. So wird der heil’ge Kampf gekampft, So wird der Holle Grimm gedampft, Und ewig bliihend geht allhier Das alte Paradies herfiir. 103 Die Erde regt sich, grunt und lebt; Des Geistes voll ein jedes strebt Den Heiland lieblich zu empfahn, Und beut die vollen Briist’ ihm an. Der Winter weicht; ein neues Jahr Steht an der Krippe Hochaltar: Es ist das erste Jahr der Welt, Die sich dies Kind erst selbst bestellt. Die Augen sehn den Heiland wohl, Und doch sind sie des Heilands voll; V on Blumen wird sein Haupt ge- schmiickt, Aus den’n er selbst holdselig blickt. Er ist der Stern, Er ist die Sonn\ Er ist des ew’gen Lebens Bronn; Aus Kraut und Stein und Meer und Licht Schimmert sein kindlich Angesicht. In alien Dingen sein kindlich Thun. Seine heisse Liebe wird nimmer ruhn ; Er schmiegt sich seiner unbewusst Unendlich fest an jede Brust. 104 Ein Gott fur uns, ein Kind fur sich Liebt er uns all herzinniglich, Wird unsre Speis’ und unser Trank; Treusinn ist ihm der liebste Dank. Das Elend wachst je mehr und mehr, Ein diistrer Gram bedriickt uns sehr: Lass, Vater, den Geliebten gehn; Mit uns wirst du ihn wieder sehn. (English Version.) T^ARTH’S consolation, why so slow?. Thy inn is ready long ago ; Each lifts to thee his hungering eyes, And open to thy blessing lies. O Father, pour it forth with might ; Out of thine arms, oh! yield him quite; Innocence only, love, sweet shame, Have kept him that he never came. Oh! hurry him into our arm, That he of thine may yet breathe warm ; Thick vapors round the infant wrap, And lower him into our lap. 105 In rivers cool send him to us ; In flames let him glow tremulous; In air and oil, in sound and dew, Resistless pass earth’s framework through. So shall the holy fight be fought, So come the rage of hell to naught ; And, ever blooming, round our feet The ancient Paradise we greet. Earth rouses, breaks in bud and song; Full of the Spirit, all things long To clasp with love the Saviour-guest, And offer him the mother’s breast. The winter fails. A year new-born Clasps now the manger’s altar-horn ; ’Tis the first year of a new earth Which this child claims in right of birth. Our eyes they see the Saviour well, Yet in them doth the Saviour dwell; With flowers his head is wreathed about, From which himself looks gracious out. 106 He is the star; he is the sun; Life’s well that evermore will run; From herb and stone, light, sea’s expanse, Glimmers his childish countenance. In every act his childish zest, His ardent love will never rest ; He nestles, with unconscious art, Divinely fast to every heart. To us a God, to himself a child, He loves us all, self-undefiled ; Becomes our drink, becomes our food — His dearest thanks, to love the good. Our misery grows yet more and more ; A gloomy grief afflicts us sore: Keep him no longer, Father, thus; He will come home again with us. G. Macdonald. 107 THE EUCHARIST. 10 $ HYMNE. TTS7ENIGE wissen Das Geheimniss der Liebe, Fiihlen Unersattlichkeit Und ewigen Durst. Des Abendmahls Gottliche Bedeutung 1st den irdischen Sinnen Rathsel; Aber wer jemals Von heissen, geliebten Lippen Athem des Lebens sog, Wem heilige Glut In zitternden Wellen das Herz schmolz, Wem das Auge aufging, Dass er des Himmels Unergriindliche Tiefe mass, Wird essen von Seinem Leibe Und trinken von Seinem Blute Ewiglich. Wer hat des irdischen Leibes Hohen Sinn errathen? Wer kann sagen, Dass er das Blut versteht? Einst ist alles Leib, Ein Leib, In himmlischem Blute Schwimmt das selige Paar. — II I O dass das Weltmeer Schon errothete, Und in duftiges Fleisch Aufquolle der Fels! Nie endet das siisse Mahl, Nie sattigt die Liebe sich; Nicht innig, nicht eigen genug Kann sie haben den Geliebten. Von immer zarteren Lippen Verwandelt wird das Genossene Inniglicher und naher. Heissere Wollust Durchbebt die Seele, Durstiger und hungriger Wird das Herz, Und so wahret der Liebe Genuss Von Ewigkeit zu Ewigkeit. Hatten die Niichternen Einmal gekostet, Alles verliessen sie, Und setzten sich zu uns An den Tisch der Sehnsucht, Der nie leer wird. Sie erkennten der Liebe Unendliche Fiille, Und priesen die Nahrung Von Leib und Blut. I 12 (English Version.) TTEW are there who know The mystery of loving, Who feel insatiableness And eternal thirst. The eucharist Has divine significance, But to earthly senses all an enigma. Yet who once ever From dear lips warm and beloved, Hath drawn life’s own breathing; Who hath felt heart-glow Of holy feeling in trembling thrills ; Who hath opened his eyes To measure the heavens’ Unfathomable depths above, Such one will eat of his body, And will drink of his blood likewise, Evermore. Who has yet found the high meaning Of the earthly body? Who can yet say He understands the blood? All body is one; But one In the blood heavenly, Swims the most blessed pair. O that the world-sea Were reddening now, And into fragrant flesh Would burst forth the rock! Ne’er endeth the meal so sweet, Never is love satiated; Ne’er inward nor its own enough, Can it possess the beloved. By lips that are aye tenderer, Becomes transformed what is enjoyed, More inwardly and closely. Warmer the pleasure That thrills the soul through; Thirstier and hungrier Grows the heart: And so lasteth love’s sweet enjoyment, Eternal to eternity. If the prudent had once, But once tasted it, They would leave everything, And would sit down with us Yearning at the table, Which ne’er is drawn. They would know then the fulness Of infinite loving, Would praise the nourishing Body and blood. W. Hastie.