He who knows the pride and pleasure
Of a friendship firm and strong.
He who has a wife to treasure,
Let him swell our mighty song!
If there is a single being
Who can call a heart his own,
And denies it—then, unseeing,
Let him go and weep alone.

Joy is drunk by all God’s creatures
Straight from earth’s abundant breast,
Good and bad, all things are Nature’s,
And with blameless joy are blessed.
Joy gives love and wine; her gladness
Makes the universe her zone,
From the worm that feels spring’s madness
To the angels near God’s throne.

-- Music: Beethoven, Ninth Symphony (chorale)
-- Words: Schiller, Ode to Joy (Untermeyer translation)