Epilogus

1. Epilogue There offers to God the Father

the devout, the faithful, the innocent, the chaste

the gifts of a clear conscience,

with which the blessed mind is rich within.

Another man cuts back

even his money, that the destitute may live.

We consecrate our swift iambics

and our whirling trochees,

destitute of holiness,

and powerless to bring the poor relief.

Yet God approves

this pedestrian song, and listens with kindness.

In the rich man's house much furniture

is set in every corner:

a golden goblet gleams,

nor is the polished basin lacking in bronze,

there is an earthen pot as well,

and a heavy, ample dish of silver,

some things are of ivory,

and not a few are hollowed out of oak and elm.

Every vessel becomes useful

that is fit for the master's service;

for they furnish the house

alike, those bought at great cost and those made of wood.

So me, in the Father's hall,

like some worn-out little vessel meant to be cast away,

Christ fits to fleeting uses,

and lets me remain in a corner's nook.

Behold, a thing of clay,

I enter within the palace of salvation.

Yet even the lowest

service rendered to God is to one's gain.

Whatever may befall,

it will be a joy to have sung of Christ with my voice.