In every wind that blows
Whither the leaves flee for aid
To a place than all beside more sweet
Where there is a calm, a sure retreat.

From every swelling tide of woes
Brighter vision beam afar,
Like the natal star
That shows the gifts of mystic meaning.

Another year rolls by,
The time flies so quickly by;
Why friends are falling down dead?
When they are standing on the brink of life;
If I'm called home this season,
Should I ask, this year which is to pass by
In a gentle and pleading voice.