They say that I am sick.
But 'tis not they who speak,—
Tis but the cry of mortal mind,
Voicing error of its kind;
God is my strength, in Him I live.
To me He might and power doth give.
They say I am in pain.
But 'tis not they who speak.—
Tis mortal mind, whose shrieking voice
Would have me wail and not rejoice;
In Love divine sweet rest I find.
There is no pain in Spirit, Mind.
They say that I must die.
But 'tis not they who speak,—
Tis error's voice, which hath no power.
In this my great triumphant hour;
From Truth I draw life-giving breath,
God is my life; there is no death.
