The Tired Child.
Ach, Gott, es taugt doch draussen nicht

Ah God! The world hath nought to please;

One loses strength and light and peace

In needful toil of sense and brain:

Would I might here with Thee remain!

I am sated with these things of nought,

Wearied with hearing, sight, and thought;

O Mother-Heart, to Thee I turn,

Comfort Thy child, for Thee I yearn:

Thy love, most gentle-innocent!

Would that each hour might there be spent,

That I absorbed in Thee might live,

And child-like to my Father cleave.

Like a parched field my soul doth lie

Pining beneath a sultry sky;

O Heavenly Dew, O gentle Rain,

Descend and bid it bloom again.


Footnotes:

[35] It is supposed to have been on this occasion that he wrote with his own blood a form of self-dedication to Jesus Christ which is found in the preface to his works.

nein das kreuz hat keine
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