Category Archives: Friedrich Adolf Krummacher


Friedrich Adolf Krummacher: “The Setting Sun”

Excerpt, “German Lyric Poetry:  A Collection of Songs and Ballads.”  Translated from the Best German Lyric Poets, with Notes by Charles Timothy Brooks.  1863.

Sunset-in-the-hollow2

 THE SETTING SUN

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The sun is setting brightly;

How clear he looks, and sprightly!

How like a friend he seems to gaze,

While slowly sinks his golden blaze!

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This is the way he preaches,

And this the truth he teaches:

Whoe’er in goodness spends the day,

When evening comes, is always gay.

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He walks from morn to even

His destined path through heaven,

And from his heavenly tent pours forth

Brightness and warmth o’er all the earth.

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Then, when the day is ending,

He, to his rest descending,

Yet stays his downward course a while,

To greet us with a farewell smile.

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And now he is reposing;

Night’s shades are o’er him closing;

But with new splendor soon he’ll rise,

And flame on high in eastern skies.

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So tread the path before thee,

Of virtue, bliss and glory,

That, when the day of life is o’er,

Thy sun may rise in heaven to set no more.

 

 

Friedrich Adolf Krummacher: “Mountain and Valley”

Excerpt, “German Lyric Poetry:  A Collection of Songs and Ballads.”  Translated from the Best German Lyric Poets, with Notes by Charles Timothy Brooks.  1863.

alpine mountain and valley2

 MOUNTAIN AND VALLEY

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On Alpine heights the love of God is shed;

He paints the morning red,

The flowerets white and blue,

And feeds them with his dew.

On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

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On Alpine heights, o’er many a fragrant heath,

The loveliest breezes breathe;

So free and pure the air,

His breath seems floating there.

On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

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On Alpine heights, beneath his mild blue eye,

Still vales and meadows lie;

The soaring glacier’s ice

Gleams like a Paradise.

On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

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Down Alpine heights the silvery streamlets flow;

There the bold chamois go;

On giddy crags they stand,

And drink from his own hand.

On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

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On Alpine heights, in troops all white as snow,

The sheep and wild goats go;

There, in the solitude,

He fills their hearts with food.

On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

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On Alpine heights the herdsman tends his herd;

His shepherd is the Lord;

For he who feeds the sheep

Will sure his offspring keep.

On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.