Dazed by the glare of a rising light
How shall poor mortals see aright?
Tempted we were in the morning of life,
With earth’s simple joys that are ever rife,
To idly bask in the sun’s warm beam
And to care no jot for a holier dream.
Tempted again in the heyday sun,
To choose fair paths and in gardens run,
Claiming as ours, all joy—all love,
Flowerets of bliss from the Heavens above.