In the wake of the night
I long to make a flight
Out of this world and its trouble
That saps my blood, making me wobble.
To escape the tide of this wicked world
I wish and will a ride on a cloud
To drift my way to heaven's gate
So fast I won't become The Late.
Oh God of heaven and of earth
You created me and gave me breath
Your will to come do in this world
So command the devil, his troubles still to stand!