Why bid our spirits wear a cloud?
With love about us on parade.
It, should not, ever make one proud.
Or think that he was underpaid.

Enhanced with beauty e’re man fell,
Earth must have surely been a prize.
Old Satan thought he’d rung the bell.
And all his Imps thought he was wise.

A murderer was after Eve.
He saw her there our king and queen,
Yet, Eve was easy to deceive,
The Devils fangs were mighty keen.

It’s hard to think that we were made.
It’s hard to think that we were weak.
It’s hard to think that we need aid.
So God left us a day each week.

Well contemplate how much God cared,
Oh, blessed happy day we’ll spend,
And when he comes we’ll be prepared,
Because, because, someday t’will end.

Then too like God we’ll be refreshed,
Amidst the misty mountain blue,
Steadfast never more to be enmeshed.
Till, Canaan and that happy view.