English translations of Zwei Lieder, opus 79

Ah, the son of the mountains clings with childlike love to his homeland.
Just as an alpine flower withers when stolen from its mountain, so does he wilt
When torn away from his home! Always before him is the cosy hut
In which he was born, in the bright, fragrant, green meadows;
He sees the dark pinewoods, the towering rock walls 
Above him, and peak upon peak looming above with frightening height
And glowing with a rosy gleam in the evening.
The images float ever before him, obscuring everything else around him.
 
He listens fearfully; it seems to him that he can hear cattle mooing 
In the nearby groves, and the tinkling of bells from high up in the alps;
It seems to him that he can hear the shouts of shepherds
Or the songs of dairymaids, who with powerful voices
Yodel alpine melodies that echo joyously;
These sounds ever ring in his ear.
The grace of the laughing plains cannot attract him;
He flees the city's constrictive walls
Alone, and gazes tearfully from the foothills at his native mountains;
Ah, they fill him with such irresistible yearning!

Great is God, the Lord!  For heaven
and earth proclaim his power.
You hear it in the raging storm,
In the loud, resounding roar of the forest storms.

Great is God, the Lord! Great is His Power!
You hear it in the rustling of the green forest;
You see it in the gold of the waving cornfields,
In the glowing blooms of lovely flowers,
In the glitter of the star-filled heavens.

Terrible it sounds in the rolling thunder,
And it flames in the swift flashing lightning streaks.
Yet still more perceptible, your beating heart proclaims
The power of God, of the eternal God,
When you look up in prayer in hope for grace and mercy,
Great is God the Lord! Great is God the Lord!