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Hier handle nach Gerechtigkeit!
Verschon nur nach der Gnaden Zeit!
Betracht, o Mensch, die Ewigkeit!
O Ewigkeit! o Ewigkeit!
Wie lang bist du, o Ewigkeit!
Ich, Ewigkeit, ermahne dich, O Mensch, gedenk nur oft an mich; Denn ich der Sunder Straf und Pein, Der Gotteslieb ein Lohn soll sein: Betracht, o Mensch, die Ewigkeit!
Daniel Wulffer. 1617-1685.
Eternity.[1]
One day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.
2 _St. Peter_, iii. 8.
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
Yet onward still to thee we speed, As to the fight th' impatient steed, As s.h.i.+p to port, or shaft from bow, Or swift as couriers homeward go: Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
As in a ball's concentric round Nor starting-point nor end is found, So thou, Eternity, so vast, No entrance and no exit hast: Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
A ring whose orbit still extends, And, ne'er beginning, never ends; '_Always_' thy centre, Ring immense!
And '_Never_' thy circ.u.mference: Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
Came there a bird each thousandth year, One sand-grain from the hills to bear, When all had vanished, grain by grain, Eternity would still remain: Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
As long as G.o.d shall G.o.d remain, So long shall last h.e.l.l's endless pain, So long the joys of heaven shall be; O long delight! long misery!
Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
O man! let oft thy musings dwell Upon the dreadful woes of h.e.l.l, Oft on the saints' all glorious lot, For both shall last when Time _is not_: Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
The thought of thee in pain, how dread!
In joy how bright thy prospects spread!
For here G.o.d's Goodness glads our eyes, And there His Justice terrifies: Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
Who here lived poor and sore distressed, Now truly rich, with G.o.d doth rest; With joys consoled for all his ill, He lives to praise G.o.d's Goodness still: Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
A moment's pleasure sinners know, Through which they pa.s.s to endless woe: A moment's woe the righteous taste, Through which to endless joy they haste: Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
Who looks to thee alone is wise, Sin's pleasures all he can despise; The world attracts him now no more, His love for vain delights is o'er: Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
Who thinks on thee speaks thus with G.o.d, "Here prove me with Thy chastening rod, Oh! let me here Thy judgments bear, Hereafter, Lord, in mercy spare!"
Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
"O man! I warn thee, think on me, Think oft on me, Eternity; For I the sinner's woe shall prove, And recompense of pious love:"
Mark well, O Man, Eternity!
[1]This was a favourite hymn of Niebuhr's.
Sommerlied. I.
Herr, du bist wurdig zu nehmen Preis und Ehre und Kraft; denn du hast alle Dinge geschaffen, und durch deinen Willen haben sie das Wesen, und sind geschaffen.
Keine Schonheit hat die Welt, Die mir nicht vor Augen stellt Meinen schonsten Jesum Christ, Der der Schonheit Ursprung ist.
Wenn die Morgenroth entsteht, Und die goldne Sonn aufgeht, So erinnre ich mich bald Seiner himmlischen Gestalt.
Ja, oft denk ich an sein Licht, Wenn der fruhe Tag anbricht: Ach was ist fur Herrlichkeit In dem Licht der Ewigkeit!
Seh ich dann den Mondenschein, Und des Himmels Aeugelein, So gedenk ich: Der diess macht, Hat viel tausend grossre Pracht.
Schau ich, in dem Fruhling an, Unsern bunten Wiesenplan, So bewegt es mich zu schrein: Ach, wie muss der Schopfer sein!
Wenn ich zu dem Quellbrunn geh Oder bei dem Bachlein steh; So versenkt sich stracks in Ihn, Als den reinsten Quell, mein Sinn.
Lieblich singt die Nachtigall, Susse klingt der Flotenschall; Aber uber allen Ton Ist das Wort: Marien Sohn!
Anmuth giebt es in der Luft, Wenn die Echo wieder ruft; Aber nichts ist uberall, Wie des Liebsten Wiederhall.
