Th’ unwearied bees, on busy wing, From flower to flower flit murmuring, And seek their honied treasure; While on the vine, from day to day, New strength the tender shoots display, Each day increase in measure. Green ears the wheat-blades now unfold, And all rejoice, both young and old, The God of harvest praising; From Whom this rich abundance flows, Who every precious gift bestows, Men’s hearts with gladness raising. I too my part will gladly take; God’s glorious works my heart awake, And soul and spirit capture: Since all are singing, I will sing, Will bring my grateful offering, And join the hymn of rapture. If in this earthly scene below Thyself so glorious Thou dost shew, To us poor sinful mortals, Then what, when earth is past and gone, Will be the joy before Thy Throne, Within the golden portals? What matchless rays, what light divine In Christ’s own Paradise will shine, What sounds be ever ringing, Where thousand seraph hosts rejoice, With ceaseless and unwearied voice Their Alleluias singing! Oh! that with God’s exulting band I even now might take my stand, With them might now adore Him, And, bearing high victorious palms, Sing praise in thousand joyful psalms, As angels do, before Him! Yet silence here I will not keep, The while on earth I still must creep, This body’s burden bearing: My heart shall evermore be bent Its thankful homage to present, Jehovah’s praise declaring. Lord! let my spirit but be filled With softening dews from heaven distilled, That it through Thee may flourish: Grant that the summer of Thy Grace, Within my heart’s unfertile place, The fruits of Faith may nourish. For Thee within my soul make room, Let me a thriving tree become, Thy bounteous blessing sharing; Make me a goodly plant to grow, Within thy garden here below, Abundant blossoms bearing. Let every branch and tender shoot Be laden here with precious fruit, That, when from earth transplanted, To Paradise my soul may soar, To praise Thee better, love Thee more: Oh! may this prayer be granted! Gottes Vorsehung. Der Herr ist allen gütig, und erbarmet sich aller seine Werke. Ich singe Dir mit Herz und Mund, Herr, meines Herzens Lust; Ich sing und mach auf Erden kund Was mir von Dir bewusst. Ich weiss, dass Du, der Brunn der Gnad Und ewge Quelle seist, Daraus uns Allen früh und spat Viel Heil und Gutes fleusst. Was sind wir doch? was haben wir Auf dieser ganzen Erd, Das uns, o Vater, nicht von Dir Allein gegeben werd? Wer hat das schöne Himmelszelt Hoch über uns gesetzt? Wer ist es, der uns unser Feld Mit Thau und Regen netzt?