Our future and fortune,
Is Oh! so very weak and bleak.
Life stakes us with sadness and misery,
And shreds the fibers of hope away.
Drowning are we in despair and sorrow,
Await we for your saving hand on the morrow.
Oh! Lord we toil in frustration and fatigue,
Yet live in cruelty, treachery and violence.
The tides of our lives hurl us violently,
And shatters before us our fortunes squarely.
Squirmy is all what life promises,
And broken lay the chords of our lives.
Why Lord we, The Poor, perish in poverty,
When the rich tarrys in plenty?
Are we to bear the brunt eternally,
While the wealthy freely and happily sway?
You bequeathed everything to make us equal,
But not even in death do we remain equal.
The subtility of thou designs stumps,
Fail we to infer them yet offer ye devoirs