You Gave Me Your Curse, Holy Fathers.

As Long As There Are Flowers And Children And Birds In The World, Have No Fears: Everything Will Be Fine.

Man Hurries, God Does Not. That Is Why Man's Works Are Uncertain And Maimed, While God's Are Flawless And Sure. My Eyes Welling With Tears, I Vowed Never To Transgress This Eternal Law Again. Like A Tree I Would Be Blasted By Wind, Struck By Sun And Rain, And Would Wait With Confidence; The Long-desired Hour Of Flowering And Fruit Would Come.

We Have Our Brush And Colors - Paint Paradise And In We Go.

Never In My Life Have I Feared Death As Much As I Feared That Resurrection.

A Slave's Soul Has No Worth, My Brothers; It Lacks Strength To Tread On This Great Earth With Gallantry And Freedom. I Pity The Poor Slaves, They're Nought But Airy Mist, A Light Breeze Scatters Them, A Fragrance Knocks Them Down; It's Only Just They Crawl On The Earth On Hands And Knees. Today I'll Write A Hymn To God And Pray For This Great Grace.