Hans Sachs was a German meistersinger ("mastersinger"), poet, playwright and shoemaker.
Hans Sachs was born in Nuremberg (German: Nürnberg).As a child he attended a singing school that was held in the church of Nuremberg. This helped to awaken in him a taste for poetry and music. His father was a tailor. He attended Latin school (German: Lateinschule) in Nuremberg. When he was 14 he took up an apprenticeship as a shoemaker.
After the apprenticeship, at age 17, he was a journeyman and set out on his Wanderjahre (or Walz), that is, wandering about and working here and there, travelling with companions, and students, for five years. He worked... more »
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Hans Sachs Poems
O Christ, true Son of God most high, Thy name we praise for ever; Whoe'er to Thee for help doth cry Shall find Thee fail him never;
Why Art Thou Thus Cast Down, My Heart?
Why art thou thus cast down, my heart? Why troubled, why dost mourn apart, O'er nought but earthly wealth? Trust in thy God, be not afraid,
A Fair Melody: To Be Sung By Good Christ...
Awake, my heart's delight, awake Thou Christian host, and hear These tones that lovely music make, God's Word most pure and clear,
Die insel Bachi.
Als ich das neu weltbuch durchlase Wie vil insel durchfaren wase Die neu schiffart von Portugal, Darein ich wunder ane zal
Der farendt Schuler im Paradeiß.
Ach wie manchen seufftzen ich senck, Wenn ich vergangner zeit gedenck, Da noch Lebet mein erster Man, Den ich ye lenger lieb gewan,
Der 13. Psalm.
Herr, wie lang wilt vergessen mein In meiner grosen note? Wie lang verpirgst das antlitz dein? Herr, wie lang sol ich gote
Ein epitaphium oder klag-red ob der ley...
Als man zelt fünffzehen hundert jar Und sechs und viertzig, gleich als war Der sibenzehend im hornung, Schwermütigkeit mein hertz durch drung
Das Schlauraffen Landt.
Ain gegent haist Schlauraffen land, Den faulen leuten wol bekant, Das ligt drey meyl hinder Weyhnachten. Vnd welcher darein wölle trachten,
Comments about Hans Sachs
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
O Christ, true Son of God most high,
Thy name we praise for ever;
Whoe'er to Thee for help doth cry
Shall find Thee fail him never;
'Tis Thou wilt plead,
With God, for us who need Thy prayers so sore:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
To Thee the Father giveth now
All power in earth and heaven;
Sin, Satan, Death to Thee must bow,
All fetters Thou hast riven,
Bade fear to cease,
And made our peace,
That now to God we dare our hearts outpour:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought ...