I too, now somewhere in my middle years,
have lost my bearings in life’s forest dark;
No earthly wisdom though’s revealed the path
that leads away from pain and doubting fears,
nor borne me up; no heav’nly eyes have shone
down on me from those brighter climes above -
rays watching over me with tender love,
and raising me to realms where truth is won.
I have no other guide than my own mind,
no sure support than single faithful hands
that lift my spirits when my strength gives way;
no envoy strengthens me from better lands
than the soft swish of hope I sometimes find
can, winglike, stroke my cheek and fade away.