Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat.
God! Thou art love! I build my faith on that.
Who knows most, doubts most.
Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops.
We mortals cross the ocean of this world Each in his average cabin of a life; The bests not big, the worst yields elbowroom.
How good is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!