document.write("LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne,<br />With praying eyes and hands elate,<br />What mystic rapture dost thou own,<br />Immutable and ultimate?<br />What peace, unravished of our ken,<br />Annihilate from the world of men?<br /><br />The wind of change for ever blows<br />Across the tumult of our way,<br />To-morrow\\\'s unborn griefs depose<br />The sorrows of our yesterday.<br />Dream yields to dream, strife follows strife,<br />And Death unweaves the webs of Life.<br /><br />For us the travail and the heat,<br />The broken secrets of our pride,<br />The strenuous lessons of defeat,<br />The flower deferred, the fruit denied;<br />But not the peace, supremely won,<br />Lord Buddha, of thy Lotus-throne.<br /><br />With futile hands we seek to gain<br />Our inaccessible desire,<br />Diviner summits to attain,<br />With faith that sinks and feet that tire;<br />But nought shall conquer or control<br />The heavenward hunger of our soul.<br /><br />The end, elusive and afar,<br />Still lures us with its beckoning flight,<br />And all our mortal moments are<br />A session of the Infinite.<br />How shall we reach the great, unknown<br />Nirvana of thy Lotus-throne?");