So many are the paths mine eye can see,
How shall I lead my hes'tant feet along?
Perchance my muse the scientist shall be,
My mind from the great minds of old made strong
As seeking knowledge I their footsteps trace.
Or is my life for diff'rent purpose meant?
Shall “mother” be the cry, from darling face
In sweetest tones, that makes my heart content?
One thing I know and it shall e'er be true:
A greater hand than mine doth guide my way.
No treach'rous wave or sky of darkest hue
Shall ever make Him cast the helm away.
Whatever tale my Lord should write for me,
I shall His faithful servant always be.
