If he should come in verdant spring, to lie upon his dying bed,
May, it be, with gladness, of work he's done or said.
Let it be with knowledge, that Love has guided him through,
And through the load oft heavy, yet for all that, Love bled.

If green wary leaves upon the trees, bring forth the joy of life,
Though some around yet be dead, it is a promise that life from dear
If his life seems a failure, and everything seems to go wrong,
Yet there's a guiding scarlet thread, that waves him through the wrong.

If life were a shuttle, upon the whirring loom,
If he were the weaver, but Love did set the tune,
Yet fingers would be helpless, without his guiding tone,
Yet softly his voice pervadeth, like angel wings to soothe.

If wishes could be successes, and all of loss a gain,
If trees of apple orchards, should been their fruit all year 'round,
Yet, could he receive more blessings of this life,
Then, that he reigneth in their work and dreams.