I Himmelen (Edvard Grieg)

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• (Posted 2013-05-04)  CPDL #29025:       

Editor: Peter Kaplan (submitted 2013-05-04).   Score information: Letter, 3 pages, 598 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes: using repeat signs where possible

• (Posted 2013-05-04)  CPDL #29024:       

Editor: Peter Kaplan (submitted 2013-05-04).   Score information: Letter, 8 pages, 779 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes: with verses written out explicitly

• (Posted 2003-11-07)  CPDL #05992:     

Editor: Øyvind Kåre Pettersen (submitted 2003-11-07).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 220 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes: Norwegian version. Midi file added 12/15/03 by Kjetil Aaman

• (Posted 2003-11-07)  CPDL #05993:     

Editor: Øyvind Kåre Pettersen (submitted 2003-11-07).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 232 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes: English version. Midi file added 12/15/03 by Kjetil Aaman.

General Information

Title: I Himmelen
Composer: Edvard Grieg
Lyricist: Laurentius Laurentii Laurinus

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB
Soloists: Choral bass solo
Genre: Sacred, Anthem

Language: Norwegian
Instruments: A cappella

First published:

Description: No. 4 from Grieg's Fire Salmer (Four Psalms) (1906).

External websites:

Original text and translations

Norwegian text I Himmelen, i Himmelen, hvor Gud, vor Herre bor, hvor saligt did at komme hen, hvor er den Glæde stor. For evig, evig skal vi der se Gud i Lyset, som han er, se Herren Zebaot. Og Legemet, og Legemet som lagdes bort i Muld, det vorder alt så skinnende, ja som det skjære Guld. Og ved af ingen Vunde mer mens Åsyn det til Åsyn ser Gud Herren Zebaot. Og Sjælen får sin Prydelse, den Krone, som er sagt, Retfærdighedens Brudekrans, og så den hvide Dragt. O Gud, hvad Lyst at være dig nær, at se i Lyset som du er dig, Herren Zebaot.

German translation by Cläre Mjøen (1874–1963) Im Himmelreich, im Himmelreich, in Gottes Vaterschoss, wie selig, dort zu kommen hin, wie ist die Wonne gross. Dort schauen wir in ewigem Glanz, in deiner Klarheit leuchtendem Kranz dich, Herre Zebaoth. Der Schwache Leib, der schwache Leib in finstrer Erde nacht, der ward so schimmernd durch und durch, gleich lautren Goldes Pracht. Und weiss nichts mehr von Weh und Wund, dieweil er Aug in Auge stund dir Herre Zebaoth. Und meine arme Seele schmückt, wie es ihr prophezeit, der Brautkranz der Gerechtigkeit, das leuchtend weisse Kleid. Ach selig, wer dir nahe ist, im Licht zu schauen dich, wie du bist, mein Herre Zebaoth.

English translation by William Maccall (1812–1888) In heav´n above, in heav´n above, Where God, our Father, dwells; How boundless there the blessedness! No tongue its greatness tells; There face to face, and full and free, Forever evermore we see: Our God, the Lord of hosts! In heav´n above, in heav´n above, What glory deep and bright! The splendor of the noonday sun Grows pale before its light: The heavenly light that never goes down, Around whose radiance clouds never frown, Is God, the Lord of hosts! In heav´n above, in heav´n above, God hath a joy prepared, Which mortal ear had never heard, Nor mortal vision shared, Which never pierced to mortal breast, By mortal lips was never expressed, O God, the Lord of hosts!