Thurgau – Funeral Service – The fastest rider is death, he rides over the dawn, the weather’s rapid lightning!
Meditation and Prayer
The fastest rider is death, he rides over the dawn, the weather's rapid lightning. His steed is pale and unharnessed, the scythe whirrs, the arrow clangs and must sit in the heart. Through town and village, over mountain and valley, in the red of dawn, in the evening ray, he goes on wildly chasing, and where he fled with impetuousness. Then the bells ring behind him and grave songs lament. He enters the palace of splendor, the proud guest grows so pale and leaves the wine and the lover.
Comes to the merry wedding feast, a gust of wind extinguishes the candles, the bride leans pale in her chair. Looks the jury in the face, who is just breaking the little white rod, when it falls from his hands. A girl winds flowers and clover, he approaches; she gets so hurt. Who likes to finish the bouquet! So don't be proud, O human being! You are like chaff in the wind to death, and may you wear crowns. The sand runs away, the hour strikes, and before a breath moves this page, yours can strike too.
Funeral Service - Thurgau
Half awakened from the slumber I dreamlessly drunk. Ah, how I was lost in the endless night! Deep dimming of being, thinking nothing, still feeling! Vanishing from myself, shadow with shadow to one! Then I got so scared, whether it was too, pushing away my brother. narrowing my mind and my senses, death cunningly embraced me.
I thought so with a shudder and jumped up and closed myself into life. Boldly urged me to God and nature in glowing exaltation. Behold, there I lived: what else, melted into drops, poured out slowly and meagerly, suddenly shook me. You touch me often, Death, when I melt away inside myself, until I regain myself through the thought of you!