In mercy soothe the sorrow
That weighs the fatherless;
Vouchsafe a happier morrow,
And all my children bless!
Strength to their father yield,
In their hard fate respect them,
From enemies protect them;
My strength, be Thou their shield.
VI
I am but dust and ashes,
Yet one request I crave:
Let me not go at unawares
Into the silent grave.
With a clear mind and breast
My course in this world closing,
Let me, on Thee reposing,
Pass to Thy land of rest.
I composed the following hymn in German and often sang it, as they did not understand German; a hymn, somewhat to the air of ‘Was ist doch auff dieser Welt, das nicht fehlt?’ &c.:—
I
Reason speaketh to my soul:
Fret not Soul,
Thou hast a better goal!
It is not for thee restricted
That with thee
Past should be
All the wrongs inflicted.
II
Why then shouldst thou thus fret thee,
Anxiously,
Ever sighing, mournfully?
Thou canst not another sorrow
Change with this,
For that is
Which shall be on the morrow.
III
Loss of every earthly gain
Bringeth pain;
Fresh courage seek to obtain!
Much was still superfluous ceded,
Nature’s call
After all
Makes but little needed.