Do not stutter when you speak
And do not limp when you walk
For you walk with the spirit of God
And when you command the morning
Do not whisper as though you are uncertain
For you have given that power over life and death
What sickness plagues man
That he knows not of whose breath he was forged?
How he forgets the crown upon his own head
And the sceptre that the lord has placed in hands
He frets at the pangs of sickness
And cowers at the thought of demons
This is man: who is carved in the image of God
How the angels envy you
That God thought it fair
To grant you favor in his sight over other beings
If only you knew
How your very existence
Has brought unending misery
To the lips of the accuse