Thou that from the heavens art,
⁠Every pain and sorrow stlllest,
And the doubly wretched heart
⁠Doubly with refreshment fillest,
I am weary with contending!
⁠Why this rapture and unrest?
Peace descending,
⁠Come, ah, come into my breast!

O'er all the hilltops
⁠Is quiet now,
In all the tree-tops
⁠Hearest thou
Hardly a breath;
⁠The birds are asleep in the trees:
Wait; soon like these
⁠Thou, too, shalt rest.