Der Wachtelschlag
The Quail


There, far off, the lovely sound I hear,
Fear the Lord, Fear the Lord,
It is the quail, his voice so clear.
Surrounded by grasses, perched in the mead
It calls to the farmer, sowing his seed:
Love the Lord, Love the Lord,
So good and gentle; do, please take heed.

Again the hocketing voice conveys,
Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord,
Prompting you to give due praise.
See, there, all the fruits of the field;
Take them to heart, men of the weald.
Thank the Lord, Thank the Lord,
Your provider and your shield.

Do nature’s storms cause you to fear?
Pray to God, Pray to God,
He will protect you; he is near.
Are you afraid of the dangers of war?
Trust the Lord, Trust the Lord,
He will save you for evermore.