To contemplate perfection
and realize but limitation
is the destiny of those called human.

To conceive the ideal
but never know it for real
can only be known as frustration.

To be human is too long, to aspire;
to strive after dreams, to reach higher
and in the end falling,
we hear a voice calling
" come onto me all those who tire."

To know limitation
shows our situation
as incomplete beings at best

And yet hope we must
if in that we trust
that saves from this body of death.