From Buchner's "Lenz"


     In the tiny churchyard the snow was gone, dark moss amongst the black crosses, a cluster of late roses leaning against the churchyard wall, late flowers, too, peering from the moss, sometimes sunlight, then shadow again. The service began, the voices of the people merged in bright pure harmony; it was like gazing into pure clear water from a mountain spring. The sounds of the singing died away, Lenz began to speak, he was shy, thanks to the music his numbness was gone, all his pain awoke and filled his heart. A sweet sensation of endless well-being crept over him. He spoke simply to the people, all shared his suffering, and it was a comfort to him if he could bring sleep to weeping tired eyes and peace to tortured hearts, if in the face of this existence racked by material needs he could guide this silent suffering towards heaven. He had found more strength by the time he finished, then the voices began to sing again:
Let in me the sacred passion
Open all the deepest wells;
Suffering be my sole reward,
Suffering be my praise to God.

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