Our Father, who art in Heaven

Distracting noises of the day are dying

And all alarm and strife without are stilled;

Now will I, Father, as an infant kneeling

Send forth entreaties to thee in the Heavens,

O let my timid prayer to Thee with power be filled!

Like as the straying son my heart is yearning,

For all the happiness that paradise doth hold,

And he who in far distant lands was roaming,

Who dared no longer knock at any portal,

For everywhere he turned they sought to do him ill.

Now open, Father, once again Thy bosom,

That every pain that wounds my heart may flee;

That in Thy holy breath my soul exalting,

Will find recovery from the ways of sorrow,

And in Thy blessed favor ever more be free.