CHORUS
How dark, O Lord, are Thy decrees,
All hid from mortal sight,
All our joys to sorrow turning,
And our triumphs into mourning,
As the night succeeds the day.
No certain bliss,
No solid peace,
We mortals know
On earth below,
Yet on this maxim still obey:
"Whatever is, is right."

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Diese Wiedergabe ist eine vereinfachte Version aus der Sammlung CHOR PRAXIS
This rendering is a simplified version from the collection CHOIR PRACTICE