Whence shall ye will be bent?
Now as thee hollowed light is newly sent.
Perhaps on ye self? Perhaps on ye tasks?
In the hours ahead, what deeds will last?
How will ye mind use these hours of plenty?
Moments the will pass only one in all eternity.
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 ony ye self!
For ye mind is pressing most of all,
throw it not into the cleft.
Stop once upon this day! See the maracle upon ye!
Endless love and joy ye shall see,
As bluish shimmers upon a violent see!
And alas! Our lords wish and sacrifice will not be vain,
from ye heart shall pass ye hurts and ye pain.