Like a log of woods, your problems pile
You\'re aiming high but you hardly fly
Competing with your sets, you\'re feeling shy
Empty it all to your Lord and be seeming bright.
Wait! Who told you, the mountain top, you can\'t climb?
Give it back to them, it\'s a creamy lie
God showers His blessings in His infinite time.
Sometimes, life seems hard, it pains like a boil
Why not empty it all to your Lord, your soul He doesn\'t toy
Empty it all, your puzzles, into the sandy soil
With a pure mind, from your Lord, host your unlimited joy
Then, the unseeming mountain, you climb like a favoured roy
Give it back to them, the shamers; it has come your joy
God showers His blessings without a noise.