I am ill — my life is yours, oh Lord,
Allow me, God, to still ring out …
I love the sky so blue, adored,
Grant me to sing our land about!
The day's great span, the night's deep mystery —
They fill my soul with sheer delight!
I cry to You, in short, this history:
A will to live in any plight!
To write to You — and be amazed;
In nature draw my image true!
To yield to the sweet Lyre's phases,
To die from feelings unasked-for, new!
I'll rise up early, before dawn —
To earth with bow I'll give a smile.
In prayer I'll ask for counsel drawn,
My cheek against a birch, meanwhile!
Life grants us moments, swift and bright —
May I not exhaust their store.
It draws me to peace and to delight,
All gratitude to the Creator evermore!
Shine, star of hope, upon my way —
Let no day's troubles dim your ray.
For I see the sunrise as before —
And that is why my soul feels warm once more!
