Whence hints of growth humanity is gleaning;
For that we long, on that we sweetly brood
Which erst in woe had lost all life and meaning;
In everlasting life death found its goal,
For thou art Death, and thou first mak'st us whole.

Filled with joy, the singer went on to Indostan, his heart intoxicated
with sweetest love, and poured it out in fiery songs under that tender
sky, so that a thousand hearts bowed to him, and the good news sprang up
with a thousand branches. Soon after the singer's departure, his precious
life was made a sacrifice for the deep fall of man. He died in his youth,
torn away from his loved world, from his weeping mother, and his trembling
friends. His lovely mouth emptied the dark cup of unspeakable wrongs. In
horrible anguish the birth of the new world drew near. Hard he wrestled
with the terrors of old Death; heavy lay the weight of the old world upon
him. Yet once more he looked kindly at his mother; then came the releasing
hand of the Love eternal, and he fell asleep. Only a few days hung a deep
veil over the roaring sea, over the quaking land; countless tears wept his
loved ones; the mystery was unsealed: heavenely spirits heaved the ancient
stone from the gloomy grave. Angels sat by the sleeper, sweetly outbodied
from his dreams; awaked in new Godlike glory, he clomb the apex of the
new-born world, buried with his own hand the old corpse in the forsaken
cavity, and with hand almighty laid upon it the stone which no power shall
again upheave.

Yet weep thy loved ones over thy grave tears of joy, tears of emotion,
tears of endless thanksgiving; ever afresh, with joyous start, see thee
rise again, and themselves with thee; behold thee weep with soft fervour
on the blessed bosom of thy mother, walk in thoughtful communion with thy
friends, uttering words plucked as from the tree of life; see thee hasten,