Whence shall ye will be bent?
Now as thee hallowed light is newly sent.
Perhaps on ye self? Perhap on ye tasks?
On thee hours ahead, what's deeds will last?
How will ye mind use these hours of plenty?
Moments that will pass only once in all enternity.
On ye self? On ye work? On ye nother?
On ye child? On ye father? On ye mother?
Perhaps on ye lord? And ye lord wishith that you seekith only ye self!
For ye mind is pressing most all,
throw it not into thee cleft;
Stop once upon this day! See the miracle upon ye!
Endless joy and love ye shall see,
as blueish shimmers on a violent sea!
And alas! Our lords wish and sarcafice will not be vain!
For from ye heart shall pass ye hurts and ye pain.