The rays of heaven light flashes,
Upon my home it slices,
Like a cloud of dew in the heat of harvest,
The budding tree is perfect,
Though the day of perfecting totters,
With buzzing wings,
My voice still quavers,
How can I have such a perfect Creator?
Such one as I, who upon the day of my birth,
Was stained, the stain of a mortal being,
Who am I?
The glimpses of heaven joy,
Across my home it descends,
A burning hope, it has lighted upon my soul.
The harvest day is near,
The budding tree is pure,
Seen clearly, from afar,
The rays of heaven light has come upon me,
Indeed, a burning hope it has left,
Like clear heat in sunshine,
The heaven light has flashed upon us,
Unquenchable joy, it left upon every soul within,
The burning hope,
My soul rejoices.