Our dear God
Carl Loewe
Our dear God
also lives on the high Alps.
He colors the morning red,
the little flowers white and blue
and refreshes them with dew.
On the high Alps our dear Father lives.
On the high Alps,
in high pastures
the winds blow delightfully,
sweet-scented, clean and pure.
May it also be His breath?
On the high Alps our dear Father lives.
On those high Alps,
his mild rays refresh
the quiet pastured-valleys.
The high glacier's ice
shines like white blossoms.
On the high Alps our dear Father lives.