We have come home

Weakness shall make him stronger

 hunger shall make him happier

 persecution shall lift him higher 

and anger he shall conquer

 power he shall acquire

 justice he shall deliver

 Cynosure of all eyes

 never shall he tell a lie

 as drops of fluid on a myrh

 no blot, no stain. Only more shine 

every blessing, life shall magnify 

and when nature's trifle problems walk by 

divine solution in its footsteps shall follow

 on untramped paths in travail solo

 never does breeze withers inmates of a meadow

 but spreading God's wings on every phase narrow

 making gold holes of life burrows

 say i, too full of ego! 

But Marner's coins never were lost

 only transformed to a wandering lot

 raising the hope of the dying dawn

  How come the run rises in the slum?

 Recounting joys of days long gone

 We have come home, oh Lord!

 Our treasured bags have crawled in empty

 warriors of old sickly in groups clumsy

 the holy maid has been smitten

 the erring virgin strapped with weaklings

 our beds are fouled with owls' droppings

  in the river banks our feet baking

 Alas! The risen sun has been eclipsed

 laughter bitter echoing in our ears

 heads bowed down in gaily sadness 

and then it passed away

 it is over! Cried the young plants

 it is over! Cried the old sun

 happy days surely are here

 they that laughed happily weep

 for the hatchet's grave been washed away

 smiling flowers and growing faces

 he has returned in all his splendor

 spoils once lost trails his trains

 merriment, say you?