When lost amongst nettles ye’ll find if ye search, my stone of remembrance is marked with an Arch
Life, the world, its ills and woes,
Is Gods Garden, growing wild,
We beat our way through the high weeds,
Helpless, we struggle, as if a child…
We need each other, friends, family and brethren
As through the undergrowth of life we march
When lost among the nettles
Brethren will guide you, marked by an Arch.
The lost – and we all at times are – will find direction,
From the faithful you find there,
Of opinion, character and experience
Like the stones, firm sound and square.