One, who with rougher, stronger hammer strikes the blows: Strike on, O Mighty One! thus soon will end my sorrow. The Master's Hand directeth all the work full well: According as the fashioning doth most require, The strokes must fall. And now once more the ore He lays Within the Flame;-and strokes again succeed the Fire. Whilst in that glowing heat, "The Iron shines," methought, "All clear and bright:-now, surely, soon the work is done!" But when the burning was withdrawn, all cold, and black, And shapeless grew the metal:—thus my hope was gone. On the Refining-Board of inner woe and pain, Next must the ore, in all its coldness, firm be pressed. The keen-edged File must work-a thousand splinters Now follow finer, closer strokes, upon the rest. O Master, Who this art dost understand aright, Make Thou my soul well fitted for Thy use at last! Not o'er my heart may polished brightness seem to shine But, inly chastened, let me in Thy Fire stand fast! THE BLESSED WALK IN GOD'S PRESENCE. (DER SELIGE WANDEL IN DER GEGENWART GOTTES.) GOD, in Whom I have my being, Live, and move, for evermore ;- God's own House and Gate of Heaven Nowhere art Thou ever distant, Though so late I Thee have found. Forth I gazed on this world's objects; Whilst in senseless search I wandered, Thou, my God, did'st dwell in me! G Shall not all my being worship, In the silent awe of love; Knowing that my God is present Wheresoe'er I stand or move? This and that to know, I care not; Gazing on Thee in the spirit, I would dwell with Thee alone. I can tell Thee all my sorrows; No more shall their load appal : When my heart I cannot fathom, Still with Thee, in mine awaking; In Thy Goodness, sure and true. On I journey, ever farther, Guided by Thy Faithful Hand; Poor, unknown,in patient stillness, Through this earth, to Fatherland. Thus to live within His Presence This is blessed life to me; Keeping Him in thought at all times, Come, then, ye beloved children; Leave the world, and sin, and sorrow ;--- A FAINT GLIMPSE OF ETERNAL JOY. (EIN MATTER BLICK VOM EWIGEN GLÜCK.) WEARY heart, be not desponding; Soon thy pilgrim-course will end : To the Guiding of thy Friend! Many a hard year hast thou sighed through; God hath helped thee, still He helpeth ; Hope on, loving and believing, Till the sorrow all is past; Then the blessed "weight of glory" |