III. Oh how blessed, faithful souls, are ye

Oh how blessed, faithful souls, are ye, Who have passed through death; your God ye see, Escaped at last From all the sorrows that yet hold us fast!

Here as in a prison we are bound, Care and fear, and terrors hem us round, And all we know It is but toil and grief of heart below.

While that ye are resting in your home, Safe from pain, all misery o'ercome, No grief or cross Can mix with yonder joys to work you loss.

Christ doth wipe away your every tear, Ye possess what we but long for here, To you is sung The song that ne'er through mortal ears hath rung.

Who is there that would not gladly die, Changing earth for such a home on high, Or who would stay To toil amid these sorrows night and day!

Come, O Christ, release us from our post, Lead us quickly hence to yonder host, Whose battle won, Now drink in joy and bliss from Thee our Sun.

O wie selig seid ihr doch irh Frommen