Forgive us our sins

At night, when stormy winds blow wildly

And remorse wakes within you,

Then, your heart quakes in darkest night

As painfully as has never shaken.

You struggle, in deepest breast despairing,

For nothing comforts, for nothing brightens,

Because through the gale, still clearly speaks

Your own heart, accusing you.

After all if the gale then be silent

And balmy breezes prevail,

When the soul feels deep remorse,

It quakes as tho'twer stormy, on a quiet day.

Then, little bird praise God-almighty

And sing brightly to him above,

Your song drones on the ear however

With harsh notes revealing your guilt.