With a restless vacillation

By the winds of fate are blown;

But an All-Wise Hand

May have changed the sand,

For a purpose of His own.

As the troubled and turbulent waters,

As the waves of the angry main,

Respond with their undulations

To the breath of the hurricane;

So our lives on Time's boundless ocean

Unwittingly toss and roll,

And unconsciously drift with the current

Which evades our assumed control;

But a Hand of love,

From the skies above,

May have guided us past a shoal.

Ephemeral, mobile, and fleeting,

Our delible paths we tread;

And fade as the crimson sunset,

When the heavens are tinged with red;

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