Trauer-Album — Prayer in the days of mourning

English translation

Prayer in the days of mourning You, my Lord! My God! Broken and tormented by pain, I pray before You. Exhausted by weeping, my tortured inner being longs deeply for relief. Nowhere do I find healing for my wound or comfort for my sorrow. No, I cannot reconcile myself to the cruel thought that here below I shall never again see the beloved face. I believe myself tormented by a bad dream and wait and hope that this frightening image will dissolve and that I shall awaken to a peaceful reality. Yet all is in vain. The desolate life tears my heart anew, and tears break uncontrollably from my eyes. In bitter grief I lament my lost happiness and cannot imagine how I shall bear the infinite weight of my loss. My heart and soul are full of memories—my thoughts are with him (her). I feel his (her) loving gaze resting on me; I imagine the pressure of his (her) faithful, dear hand; I feel his (her) lips upon my lips; I see his (her) dear features and smiling eyes. You, my Lord! My God! What sin did I, Your weak servant, commit that You have visited me so harshly, taken my earthly happiness from me, and laid my dearest, most beloved one in the grave? For what grave sin must I atone with such terrible anguish of soul, since You permitted the cold earth to cover the dear body that, if I could, I would awaken to new life with my hot breath, and for whom I would have given as ransom blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh? O merciful God, do not sit in harsh judgment over me because I struggle against Your decree, I, a vain speck of dust. My Father in heaven, do not take the words as murmuring—only as the grieving groan of my mouth. I know and feel very well that the ultimate purpose of Your decrees is unfathomable and that no bird’s wing flutters in the infinite universe without a wise purpose. You distribute joys and fulfill our cherished hopes; yet You also take our loved ones and turn our gladness into groaning and weeping. You know by what we have earned grace and for what reason You strike us with Your flaming scourge. I do not weep my endless lament before You in a rebellious spirit, my God. I do not seek to fathom the justice of Your judgments. Forgive me and be gracious to me, for I am a small and frail human being and my heart is not made of iron. As the bird imprisoned in a cage beats its straining wing against the bars a thousand times, so my soul seeks deliverance from the oppressive net of its suffering. I seek comfort, my heavenly Father, by weeping and lamenting before You, and I believe that, as noble metal is refined in cleansing fire, my soul too will be purified in the glowing fire of my pain.

Complete English translation of the legible text prepared for the Reichenbach Family Archive. Brackets identify text that is blank, damaged or not securely legible.