How you have loved me, mother, I have not power to tell, Knowing full well That even in the rest above It is your will To watch and guard me with your love, Loving me still. And, as of old, my mother, I am content to be a child, By mother's love beguiled From all these other charms; So to the last Within thy dear, protecting arms Hold thou me fast, My guardian angel, mother!
FATHER, I cry to Thee! Round me the billows of battle are pouring, Round me the thunders of battle are roaring; Father on high, hear Thou my cry,-- Father, oh, lead Thou me!
Father, oh, lead Thou me! Lead me, o'er Death and its terrors victorious,-- See, I acknowledge Thy will as all-glorious; Point Thou the way, lead where it may,-- God, I acknowledge Thee!
God, I acknowledge Thee! As when the dead leaves of autumn whirl round me, So, when the horrors of war would confound me, Laugh I at fear, knowing Thee near,-- Father, oh, bless Thou me!
Father, oh, bless Thou me! Living or dying, waking or sleeping, Such as I am, I commit to Thy keeping: Frail though I be, Lord, bless Thou me! Father, I worship Thee!
Father, I worship Thee! Not for the love of the riches that perish, But for the freedom and justice we cherish, Stand we or fall, blessing Thee, all-- God, I submit to Thee!
God, I submit to Thee! Yea, though the terrors of Death pass before me, Yea, with the darkness of Death stealing o'er me, Lord, unto Thee bend I the knee,-- Father, I cry to Thee!
IN Oberhausen, on a time, I fared as might a king; And now I feel the muse sublime Inspire me to embalm in rhyme That succulent and sapid thing Behight of gentile and of Jew A gosling stew!
The good Herr Schmitz brought out his best,-- Soup, cutlet, salad, roast,-- And I partook with hearty zest, And fervently anon I blessed That generous and benignant host, When suddenly dawned on my view A gosling stew!
I sniffed it coming on apace, And as its odors filled The curious little dining-place, I felt a glow suffuse my face, I felt my very marrow thrilled With rapture altogether new,-- 'Twas gosling stew!
These callow birds had never played In yonder village pond; Had never through the gateway strayed, And plaintive spissant music made Upon the grassy green beyond: Cooped up, they simply ate and grew For gosling stew!