Of all the deeds that I have done
Like all the prizes I have won
They wither on life’s weather vine
And lose themselves in acts divine.
I’m most impressed by pelting rain
That crashes on my window pane
And storms that rage throughout the night
Or mornings drenched with precious sight.
A rose that grows without a thorn
Is natures wonder to be born
Such joys that man cannot command
To rule this life and breath at hand.
Seems fate has willed the final toss
On freedoms chains and wisdoms loss
There’s but one answer I can state
That man is small while God is great !