I was heavy-laden, grieving,
Prest to earth with sense of woe;
When a voice, my grief relieving,
Sounded thus in accents low:

Every man that's now thy debtor,
Shall his debt to thee repay;
Shall restore e'en to the letter,
All thy spirit gives away.

Old and young — the man grey-headed,
And the boy with nimble tread;
They that to the world are wedded,
All that now by thee are fed.

They, how much shall they return thee,
Crowded measures running o'er;
All that now in spirit owe thee,
Grieve my child, then grieve no more.