If, as we work, we can transmit life into our work,
life, still more life, rushes into us to compensate, to be ready
and we ripple with life through the days.
Even if it is a woman making an apple dumpling,
or a man, a stool,
if life goes into the pudding, good is the pudding,
good is the stool,
content is the woman, with fresh life rippling in to her,
content is the man.
I would not dance, unless Thou leadest me.
Wouldst Thou that I spring mightily,
Then must Thou sing for me.
Thus will I leap into love,
From love into knowledge into joy,
From joy beyond all human senses.