No gift is so precious.
The waters of the day may become troubled,
And the lightnings of the wrath of sorrow
May crash about thee, while the dissonant thunder
Of complication confuses thee,
And disturbes thy soul, yet like a beacon,
Like the Northstar, like the hand of God---
Is the supporting strength of Steadfastness!
Behold I am a queen upon a throne,
Upheld by them that love me!
And the caskets of their gifts are full.
I drink the wine of sorrow, sweetened by
The honey of their love. Behold---
I see the face of God within theirs!