ON THE SAME WORK.

A soul, tormented by the waves
Of the world's boisterous sea,
Seeks with full longing for a roadstead a sheltered area where a ship may anchor,
That can preserve her from shipwreck;
But finds in the sublunary realm
Nothing where comfort or salvation happens for her.

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She sees the world with its luxury,
So harmful to true rest,
That gives her trouble instead of pleasure,
Even though she imagined her salvation therein;
The varnish of a hypocritical virtue
Births anxiety in the place of joy.

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On what shall she build her hope?
Since everything lies dazed in vanity,
No wisdom of an earthly intellect
Does she dare to trust in her need:
She finds no ground in all that conflict,
Where the anchor lies firm and sure.

But

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But MÜLLER shows in these pages,
Where a soul finds her rest:
How God loves the mortal
Out of compassion and mercy;
Here is a comfort for every soul,
Who fell into a grim sadness.

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God's love is the only harbor,
Where she is protected from stranding,
There she is safe even in spite
Of the deep that wanted to bury her,
There she lands in a preserved state,
This love remains her refuge.

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Like a sailor, who struggled for life
Out of a grim need,
Which threatened him with nothing but death,
He comes to make his joy known:
And shows a cheerful face,
Where all calamity and pressure yield.