The river of life flows swiftly,
turbid and deep, never still.
It rushes on, cutting its course
through sorrow's valley, over joy's high hill.
A soul not nourished by faith and trust,
Like soil and water, soon turns to dust.
A heart not warmed by love and belief,
Like parching grass, longs for relief.
Thank God for life's storms!
With the wind in my face
I have learned to travel
at a vigorous pace.