Ich war euch nur geliehen Auf eine kurze Zeit; Zum Herren musst ich ziehen, Drum werfet hin das Leid, Und sprecht: Gott hats gegeben; Gott nimms! Du hast es Recht, Bei Dir steht Tod und Leben; Der Mensch ist Gottes Knecht. Dass ihr mein Grab müsst sehen, Zeigt unsern schwachen Stand; Dass es sobald geschehen, Thut Gottes Vaterhand: Gott wird das Leid euch stillen, Ich sterbe nicht zu jung: Wer stirbt nach Gottes Willen, Der stirbt schon alt genung. * * * Fahr wohl, o liebe Seele, Geniess der süssen Lust; Uns in der Trauerhöhle Ist nichts hiervon bewusst: Wenn wird doch angelangen Des grossen Tages Schein, Da du uns wirst umfangen! O möcht er heute sein! Gottfried Wilhelm Sacer. 1635-1699. On the Burial of a Child. Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord. _Rev._ xiv. 13. My race is now completed, And were that last good-night A thousand times repeated, My gain would well requite. Dear friends! because I leave you, O be not thus distrest; For what indeed should grieve you? Since I am now at rest. Away! all grief and sadness, Henceforth away from me! My heart o’erflows with gladness, That I am thus set free: Now thousand joys I borrow From my Creator’s hand; And earthly pain and sorrow Come not in this fair land. Ah! those whom earth yet captures, Who rove as pilgrims still, But faint can lisp the raptures Eternity which fill: To die in God is better Than in the world to live; Now sin can no more fetter, No frailties pain can give. Then strew my bier with flowers, As ’twere a conqueror’s car; I gain from vernal bowers, That bloom in heaven afar, A crown that ne’er shall wither; And He Who ever lives, God’s Son, Who bears me thither, The victor’s chaplet gives. My father, where I’m sleeping, To pierce the darkness tries; My mother stands by weeping, And turns away her eyes: But though your hearts are breaking, And anguish whelms you o’er, Now heavenly comfort seeking, Dear parents! weep no more. A little while but lent you, Now God has called me home; So now, no more lament you Because my hour is come: But say, “the Lord has given, Then let Him take away;” God wills our fate in heaven, We must His Will obey. This shews how frail our state is, That you my grave must see; From God’s own Hand my fate is, A Father’s hand to me: Then comfort take, and think not Too soon I yield my breath; For they too early sink not, Who please their God in death. * * *