To ev'ry trial comes an end:
The hardest yoke at last must break,
Anguish and pain, and ev'ry woe,
Must hasten then their leave to take.
Robes of sorrow soon will shine,
Changed for golden tints divine.
Through the dreary desert passed,
Now we pluck the roses fair,
We have reached our Fatherland,
And our pilgrim's staff rests here.
Tears were sown whilst there below,
Now joy's fullest rivers flow.
Egypt at length is left behind,
See Canaan's beauties, ever new,
Mount Olivet's ascent is climbed,
Mount Thabor's glories burst to view.
Jacob at last has found a place
Secure from Esau's hostile race.
The End! the End! oh thou sweet word,
Crosses are blessings in thy light;
The rocks are pierced, and now apace
Sweet balsam flows. Oh, precious sight!
Observe, my heart, and dwell on this-
The End draws nigh! 'tis certain bliss.
From the German.