In silent night when rest I tookFor sorrow near I did not lookI wakened was with thund’ring noiseAnd piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.That fearful sound of “Fire!” and “Fire!” Let no man know is my desire.
Here stood that trunk and there that chest, There lay that store I counted best.My pleasant things in ashes lie,And them behold no more shall I.Under thy roof no guest shall sit,Nor at thy table eat a bit.
Then straight I ’gin my heart to chide,And did thy wealth on earth abide?Didst fix thy hope on mold’ring dust? The arm of flesh didst make thy trust? Raise up thy thoughts above the skyThat dunghill mists away may fly.