ON MANY AN idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

CEASELESS is THE welter of rain that wearies the sky.
Alas for the forsaken! Alas for the homeless wanderer!
The shrieks of the wind die away in sobs and sighs.
What flying phantom does it pursue across the pathless wild?
The night is hopeless like the eyes of the blind.
Alas for the forsaken! Alas for the homeless wanderer!
The waves are frantic in the river lost in the shoreless dark.
The thunder growls, the lightning flashes its teeth.
The lights of the stars are dead.
Alas for the forsaken! Alas for the homeless wanderer!

IN ONE salutation to thee, my God, let all my senses spread out and touch this world at thy feet.
Like a rain-cloud of July hung low with its burden of unshed showers let all my mind bend down at thy door in one salutation to thee.
Let all my songs gather together their diverse strains into a single current and flow to a sea of silence in one salutation to thee.
Like a flock of homesick cranes flying night and day back to their mountain nests let all my life take its voyage to its eternal home in one salutation to thee.