Hymn

Spirit of bliss! a cup of joy Awaits thee in the halls of Thor, Where earthly sorrows ne’er destroy, Where heavenly hearts are never sore.

Did thy mother, in midnight dreams, Call thee from this land of care, To sail on heaven’s transparent streams With Jhules, the angels of the air?

Save us from pale Loda’s power, When in the gale his form appears; Cheer us in affliction’s hour, And shield us in the strife of spears.

Spirit of bliss! a cup of joy Awaits thee in the halls of Thor, Where pleasure charms without alloy, Where tempests never wreck the shore.