Out of the hurry and worry and din,
Of a World too full of trouble and sin,
Out on the sea of the great Unknown,
Glides the soul, of a mortal flown.
Was it right when hope had fled,
To launch a boat, or throw the lead?
To leave the wreck and strike for shore,
Or cling to a derelict evermore?
God alone knows or can understand,
What impels the act of a suicide's hand.
And with God alone, should the judgment rest,
Who directs all ways and ends for the best.
