1. In heaven doth a house rise,
to which a glittering way lies.
The columns are of marble fair,
adorned with jewels wondrous rare
that by Our Lord were given.
To enter here doth no one dare,
save those whose sins are all forgiven.

2. Silent, silent through the fields we go,
at the twilight hour,
white within the ev'ning glow
shines the peartree's flow'r,
Silent through the fields we go.

From the branches overhead,
sweet, sweet the thrushes' song;
how the charm of spring is heard
all its notes among!

3. Springtime lets ist azure band
gaily flutter, soft aire blowing;
Perfumes, well remembered,
flowing, now intoxicate the land.
Violets dreaming now,
soon will be apearing.
Hark, a harp tone soft and low!
Springtime, yes, 'tis thou!
Thou art surely nearing.