| |
Translated by C. T. Brooks 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. | 5 |
| |
| On Alpine heights, oer 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. | 10 |
| |
| On Alpine heights, beneath his mild blue eye, | |
| Still vales and meadows lie; | |
| The soaring glaciers ice | |
| Gleams like a Paradise. | |
| On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells. | 15 |
| |
| 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. | 20 |
| |
| 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. | 25 |
| |
| 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. | 30 |
| |