From the German of Baron de la Motte Fouque.

Had God no idol taken1
No idol of thine eye,2
And had He fear’d to waken3
Grief’s agonising cry,4
How then couldst thou for dying,5
Thy soul, O man, prepare ?6
Ah me ! ’twould soon be lying7
In dismal, dark despair.8
Now one by one are riven9
Thy fondest, dearest ties ;10
Thus trustfully to heaven,11
Through death thou may’st arise12
Thy earthly bonds now broken,13
Thy soul to God is led.14
This truth has oft been spoken,15
But ne’er too often said.16