Sickness, sorrow, death, disgrace,
All of these I have to face ;
Pain of body, fret of mind,
Poverty, with bread to find.
Restless day and sleepless night,
Dread of darkness, fear of light,
Not a soul to care for me,
Not a friend on earth but thee.
Thou, too, hast a frightened stare
'Neath thine eyelids, unaware.
And like Him Who raised the dead,
Hast not where to lay thy head.
But because thou lovest me,
For thy sake I'll fight us free
Prom this deadlock of despair,
From this hell, to heaven, I swear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.