Oh great World-Spirit, wherefore art thou come?
We crave an answer, but thy voice is dumb.

Oh great World-Spirit, whither dost thou tend?
By what dark paths to what mysterious end?

We do not know, we cannot tell at all,
Only before thy onward march we fall.


Nay, but before thy throne we fall, we kneel;
We crave not that thy face thou shouldst reveal;
We do not seek to know, only to feel.

We praise thee not in words our tongues can tell;
Though thy hand slay us, we will not rebel.
Whate'er thy will design for us, 'tis well.

Compute our lives with all thy boundless past,
Project them on thy abysmal Future vast;
Only let all be merged in Thee at last.