Toward Evening

My days have flown by with the winds that blow
Since my childhood, aye, and my heart it is woe!
If aught might help me (but help there is none),
No trouble nor strife had been grudged by me.
Unstable is life as ye well may see;
It is put out by death as a candle is done.
Alas, that so seldom we give it a thought!
Ah, that no man hath the power to avert it by aught!
But little we reck with hearts careless and placid,
While in the honey lurks hidden the gall that is acid.

Now happy who strives that life to attain,
Where death not arrives! A lot shall he gain
That never ceaseth to gladden his mind.
There bliss is supreme; love is made not to grieve.
No mortal, I deem, hath wit to conceive
The full perfection of all he shall find.
There is comfort complete, there is absolute joy,
No chimney that smokes, no roof-tree that drips, to annoy.
No man grows older, though years may pass o'er him.
Then let us go, if God will; we must bow down before Him.

Now let us implore our Lady in need,
That the God she bore in her womb, give heed
And grant us the things we are fain to behold.
The whole world round His will must obey;
No limit nor bound is set to His sway.
Now mark ye the marvel He wrought us of old!
All marvels compared with this marvel are none:
She is the Mother of Christ and His Child, both in one,
And Maiden most pure, with no blemish upon her.
God hath crowned Heaven and Earth with her glory and honour.

We pilgrims make haste; our goal we would win.
My mind sticketh fast in the slough of sin,
Nor out of the mire may I pluck it away.
On a path we fare that all men must go;
We must not forbear to pay what we owe
To the Host who lent it us many a day.
Pay him! This life melts like tin and is gone:
The morning of life is passed by and the evening draws on.
Then let us make speed to secure our salvation!
If the night overtake us in sin, we 'scape not damnation.