Not a day goes by, but I read somewhere
In this wonderful world of ours,
That some lowly being has raised his soul
And become as the Norman towers.
From out of the sweat and the slavish grind,
From the depths where but hope is known,
There has risen a star, serene and pure,
That reacheth the Heavenly throne.
And no one knoweth his neighbor’s lot,
Or divineth the Father’s will,