HEAVEN.
Schöner Himmelssaal
[146]Simon Dach
trans. by Catherine Winkworth, 1869
O ye halls of Heaven,
Where the holy have their home,
They whose hearts were riven,
But through faith have overcome;
They who here on earth
Knew not joy or mirth:
Thee I greet, fair Home,
Thee o'er all things else I seek;
For o'er earth I roam
Desolate, and sad, and weak,
Never free below
From some cross or woe.
Only for thy sake
Have I strength not to despair,
But my heart's long ache
Willingly, nay gladly, bear;
Sweet when I look up
Grows my bitter cup.
Did not my poor heart
Cherish yearning hope for thee,
Long ago its smart
Had been all too sore for me;
Never can my breast
Find elsewhere a rest.
God, Thou knowest well
What the pain that hurts me sore,
Where my thoughts must dwell,
Grieving hourly o'er and o'er;
Thou and I alone
Hear that inner moan.
But if I not yet
Bear a pilgrim's chastened soul,
If I could forget, --
Let fresh trials o'er me roll;
Thou, my God, wilt bear
More than half my care.
Let this life to me
Ever grow more waste and drear,
If that so to Thee
I may cling more firm and near,
And no dread of death
Shake or chill my faith.
Ah! in that fair place
Shall I not drink deep of joy,
When I see Thy face,
When I meet Thy loving eye,
When, like angels bright,
I am clothed in light!
O ye halls of Heaven,
Where the holy have their home!
Be the signal given,
End my griefs and bid me come;
All I long for is
Soon to see thy bliss.