I know not whether I’d live till Doom
to see and touch
each soul-
I know I stepped on the white waves
gushing o’er the
slippery stone.
I fall – that I’d, the day I don’t know
But may come it
late, so -
that I can see each face of future,
in a little boat
with oars to row.
And thus I’d rush down the slope
of eternal life on
Earth
As I care not what He has it -
o’er our life and
death.
I live, I die that time shall see,
but I've my songs to
live by -
As I know this, the songs I sing
are eternal and
ne’er die.