Now what do I directly know of Soul,
Assumed to be the essence of my whole,
My True Identity, the Real Me,
Whose first and last abode’s Eternity?
Closed in this muddy vesture of decay,
I’m blind to Truth, have wandered far astray,
And cannot tell the purpose of it all,
Unless it be to punish and appall.
Mortality entails such pain and fear
And bafflement within our brief career
That it’s a miracle beyond our ken
That any stumbling soul comes home again.
But I’ve at least a glimpse of saving light
To guide me back to that lost sacred height.