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He goes on Sunday to the church,
周日，他去教堂做礼拜，
And sits among his boys;
坐在自己孩子们中央，
He hears the parson pray and preach,
聆听牧师庄严的祈祷，
He hears his daughter's voice
捕捉女儿的欢欣歌唱，
Singing in the village choir,
在乡村合唱团弥撒声里，
And it makes his heart rejoice.
他的心无比欢畅。
It sounds to him like her mother's voice singing in Paradise!
好像是母亲的声音，在伊甸园里轻轻吟唱。
He needs must think of her once more,
他肯定又想起了母亲，
How in the grave she lies;
如何竟孤单躺进坟场，
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes a tear out of his eyes.
那双硬实粗糙的大手，擦拭不尽的眼泪流淌。
Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,
劳累欢乐，悲哀惆怅，
Onward through life he goes;
穿梭在，岁月绵延的长廊，
Each morning sees some task begin,
晨曦中，开始新的艰苦劳作，
Each evening sees its close;
夜幕里，他以锤声夯落收场。
Something attempted, something done,
内心充足，打好每块锻铁，
Has earned a night's repose.
岁月安好，飘进每晚心灵之窗。
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
衷心感谢，我的朋友，
For the lesson thou hast taught!
感谢你生动的一课，
Thus at the flaming forge of life
生活，要经历无数次淬火；
Our fortunes must be wrought;
命运，需扭曲锻造重撞。
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped each burning deed and thought!
那訇然滚动的铁砧上，才能升华起炽热行为，还有思想。
