| J ach time a good child dies, an angel comes to has ground down,
takes the dead child in his arms,
spreads his large white wings and fly over all those sites,
loved the child once.
where he picks a handful of flowers and take them up with love for God,
damit sie im Paradies schöner als auf der Erde blühen.
Der liebe Gott drückt alle Blumen an sein Herz, die Blume aber,
die ihm am liebsten ist, küsst er, und dann bekommt sie eine Stimme
und kann mitjubilieren in der großen Glückseligkeit.
Der Engel flog mit dem Kind über die Stätten seiner Heimat,
wo der Kleine gespielt hatte, und sie kamen durch Gärten mit schönen Blumen. Welche wollen wir nun mitnehmen und in den Himmel verpflanzen? fragte der Engel.
stood by a tall, noble Rosenstock,
but a raw hand his tribe had broken, so that the branches were,
fully in bloom, half of roses, hanging limp.
"Take the poor rose bush with so he can flourish in the garden of God above!"
said the child. And the angel took the rose bush and kissed the child,
and the little half opened his eyes.
They picked now of the many others
were also despised the daisies and the pansies with.
"Now we have flowers!"
cheered the child, and the angel nodded, but she still did not fly up to God.
It was night, it was very quiet,
they floated on a narrow street in the City,
and saw a pile of straw, ashes, refuse, fragments of a flower pot.
The angel pointed to a clump of earth which had fallen out
and only by the roots of a withered field-flower
was a bit together.
"This flower we take," said the angel.
"While we fly, I will tell you why Down in that narrow street,
in a low cellar lived a poor sick boy;.
he had been as child always in bed;
and if he was doing well
he could go on crutches a few times in the small room and down
but was also all
Some. days in summer the sun's rays fell
half an hour into the cellar;
wo dann der arme, kranke Knabe saß und sich von der Sonne bescheinen ließ
und das rote Blut durch seine feinen Finger hindurchschimmern sah,
die er vor das Gesicht hielt, dann hieß es:
"Ja, heute ist er draußen gewesen!"
Er kannte den Wald in seinem wunderbaren Frühlingsgrün nur dadurch,
daß ihm der Sohn des Nachbarn einen Buchenzweig brachte;
den hielt er sich dann über den Kopf und träumte, unter den Buchen zu sein,
wo die Sonne schien und die Vöglein sangen.
mounted on a spring day him his friend and field flowers,
and happened on this one, hung
at the still at the root, so it was planted in a flower pot
and to the window right next to the bed made.
the flower had been planted by hand happier,
they grew and prospered, driven each year, new stems and fresh flowers.
It was for the sick boy a beautiful flower garden,
his greatest treasure on this earth.
He watered and tended it and took care ensure that they also got every last ray of sunshine,
penetrated the low through the window.
The flower was living in his dreams, for him it grew, flourished and spread their fragrance;
she was his greatest joy.
you turned it to the death of his little face, when the Lord called him.
The boy is now just a year was with God;
a year, the flower has been forgotten in the window and is withered;
why she was thrown in the unallocated space with all the rubbish on the street.
And this Flower to this poor, withered flower,
is that we have added to our bouquet;
for it has brought more joy than the most precious rose in the garden of a queen Where " ." you know all this, "asked the child, who was carrying the angel of the sky.
" I know it, "said the angel,
said" I was not even the sick little boy who walked on crutches.
my flower I know you! "
And the child opened his eyes wide
and looked into the beautiful, happy face of the angel,
and at the same moment they were in that heavenly
where there was joy and happiness.
And God pressed the dead child to His heart, as it got wings and flew
and hand in hand with the angel is gone.
The Love God pressed the flowers to His heart,
but the poor, he kissed the withered field flower,
and she got a voice and singing with the angels,
in the narrower and more widely to the throne of God hovered
farther and farther away to infinity, but all equally happy.
sang it all, even the poor little wild flower that had wilted lain
thrown on the rubbish heap in the narrow, dark alley. |
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