The servant brought coffee, and the amanuensis, Gödike, asked if there were anything to do. Generally, Gellert scarce lifted his head from his books, hastily acknowledging the attention and reading on in silence; to-day, he motioned to Gödike to stay, and said to Sauer, “Another cup: Mr. Gödike will take coffee with me. God has given me a day of rejoicing.” Sauer brought the cup, and Gellert said: “Yes, God has given me a day of rejoicing, and what I am most thankful for is, that He has granted me strength to thank Him with all my heart: not so entirely, however, as I should like.”
“Thank God, Mr. Professor, that you are once more in health, and cheerful: and permit me, Mr. Professor, to tell you that I was myself also ill a short time ago, and I then learned a lesson which I shall never forget. Who is most grateful? The convalescent. He learns to love God and His beautiful world anew; he is grateful for everything, and delighted with everything. What a flavor has his first cup of coffee! How he enjoys his first walk outside the house, outside the gate! The houses, the trees, all give us greeting: all is again in us full of health and joy!” So said Gödike, and Gellert rejoined:
“You are a good creature, and have just spoken good words. Certainly, the convalescent is the most grateful. We are, however, for the most part, sick in spirit, and have not strength to recover: and a sickly, stricken spirit is the heaviest pain.”
Long time the two sat quietly together: it struck eight. Gellert started up, and cried irritably: “There, now, you have allowed me to forget that I must be on my way to the University.”
“The vacation has begun: Mr. Professor has no lecture to-day.”
“No lecture to-day? Ah! and I believe today is just the time when I could have told my young friends something that would have benefited them for their whole lives.”
There was a shuffling of many feet outside the door: the door opened, and several boys from St. Thomas' School-choir advanced and sang to Gellert some of his own hymns; and as they chanted the verse—
“And haply there—oh! grant it, Heaven!
Some blessed saint will greet me too;
'All hail! all hail! to you was given
To save my life and soul, to you!'
O God! my God! what joy to be
The winner of a soul to thee!”
Gellert wept aloud, folded his hands, and raised his eyes to heaven.
A happier Christmas than that of 1768 had Gellert never seen; and it was his last. Scarcely a year after, on the 13th of December, 1769, Gellert died a pious, tranquil death, such as he had ever coveted.