In a world of sorrow and care;
Whether in youth I’m called away,
Or live till my bones and pate are bare;
But whether I do the best I can
To soften the weight of adversity’s touch
On the faded cheek of my fellow-man,
It matters much!
It matters little where is my grave,
On the land or on the sea;
By purling brook or ’neath stormy wave,