The moon is fully risen
The moon is fully risen,
the golden starlets glisten
in heavens clear and bright;
through hushed woods dark is prising,
from meadows there is rising
a wondrous cloud of mist so light.
How calm and still the world is
and in dusk’s mantle furled is
so lovely and so near;
it lies like some quiet room where
day’s gloom you leave behind there
and sleeping cause to disappear.
You see the moon there gleaming?
But half can you see beaming,
though it’s both round and fair.
So too what’s partly hiding
we feel deserves deriding,
since our eyes tell us it’s not there.
We humans overweening
are sinners poor and preening
who knowledge fail to store;
we weave our fabrications
employ arts’ deviations
yet from our goal withdraw the more.
God, grant us Thy salvation,
no shifting-sand foundation
or vainness be our bane;
may we be simple-hearted
and while from Earth not parted
a child’s glad piety retain.
And lastly without grieving
when we this world are leaving
willst Thou kind death afford;
and when Thou us hast taken
may we in heaven waken,
Thou who art Master and Our Lord.
So in God’s name, you Brothers,
lie down ere darkness covers –
cold breath of evening’s due.
God, spare Thy just chastising
so we may sleep till rising
and our sick neighbour do so too.
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