What is life, that I should live,
To earn each day a bowl of meal,
Regardless of another's weal,
And seek at night a pallet mine?

What is life, that I should fear,
The whim of chance, the grasp of greed,
As plodding on, my feet do bleed
Upon the stones of circumstance?

What is life, that I should stay,
If not for joy of life to live,
With cheer and hope and love to give,
And living be myself today?

So toiling, sleeping, loving still,
With hope that cannot be suppressed,
For life with Holy beauty blessed,
Is God's own destiny for man.