Fortune Is The Rod Of The Weak,

As Life Runs On, The Road Grows Strange With Faces New - And Near The End. The Milestones Into Headstones Change, Neath Every One A Friend.

Moral Supremacy Is The Only One That Leaves Monuments, And Not Ruins, Behind It.

All The Beautiful Sentiments In The World Weigh Less Than A Single Lovely Action.

Through Aisles Of Long-drawn Centuries My Spirit Walks In Thought.

A Beggar Through The World Am I, From Place To Place I Wander By. Fill Up My Pilgrim's Scrip For Me, For Christ's Sweet Sake And Charity.