How light-heartedly a wanderer goes his way,
Who knows that his treasure is safe!
What concerns, what frightens him,
That which causes others to be anxious and heated?
He passes through terrors and through horrors
As over bright springtime meadows.

That lofty estate is in Heaven;
You carry your heart in spirit-hands;
Who has the power, who has the courage
To steal away your precious treasure?
Our glad faith shall not be robbed
By either heights or depths.

Everywhere here [down below] we are in a foreign land,
Who would not wish to be content
In this fleeting state of travel
To make do with whatever one has?
And though things grow dismal and ever more dismal,
We say happily: it shall pass!

We travel toward the beloved homeland,
Thither we direct our steps,
And in God's eternal rest
This wild chase must end:
The best has remained at home:
At home, at home are our loved ones.

They open their arms
To receive the weary wanderers;
You dear, precious home of our Father,
Our entire longing is for you,
And a thousand joyful signs beckon us
To sink soon upon the heart of love.