Each day the sun goes down into the west.
Without the fear that it will not return
We take upon ourselves our nightly rest
Or work beneath the moon our crust to earn.
We know that come the morning in the east
Phoebus again will grant us his display.
The sun will rise to warm both man and beast
Without undue digression or delay.
These times are troubled, many hearts near lost
Stretched out by cares upon a rack of tears
Surrounded by concerns beyond all cost
Hope smothered by a blanket of our fears
And yet tomorrow's sun and hope will rise
When I see love and friendship in your eyes.
