Engulfed as we are in worldly splendor
We are prone to live a dream.
Emotions ere they’re harsh or tender
Come o’er us in a stream.

Like a twisting, turning, well-worn path
Our thoughts heave to and fro.
First, black as sin in thoughtless wrath,
Then as new fallen snow.

This dream bemusing we hie to keep
Forever to the fore
Must give way to Celestial sleep
Where we twist and turn no more.