"Sic hat ihren Sprung gethan. Ach wollt' Gott dass ich den Sprung gethan hätte. Ich wollt' mich nicht sehr herwieder sehnen."—Martin Luther (Watchwords for the Warfare of Life, p. 304).
Say not they sank to rest,
As a wave when its force is spent,
As a weary child on its mother's breast,
So it seemed; but not thus they went.
Not thus it seemed to those
Who watch by our side alway,
And through the calm of the last repose
See the dawn of the endless day.
As a stream the frosts enchain,
By the touch of Spring set free,
Vocal and strong bounds forth again,
Springs forth to meet the sea;
As a bird of some sunny land,
Caged in the darkness long,
Freed by the touch of a friendly hand,
Springs into light and song.
We are the feeble, and bound
In fetters of night and frost;
Winged, but chained to the ground,
In fevered slumbers tost.
The dying, the dead are we;
The living, the living are they;
Ever living, from death set free,
To praise thee, Lord, this day.
Say not they sank to rest,
As a wounded bird on the sod;—
As a waking child to its mother's breast,
They sprang to life and to God!