We come to terms with our mistakes
to strive, to try, then fail, to win
Seeing what bitter food it makes
tasting the tempting fruits of sin

Looking back along the past
succeeding through our strain
Makes us value life at last
with its unending strife and pain

Who once failed, find triumph sweet
where once stumbled, cry beware
To the other unaccustomed feet
victory comes to those who dare

Are we but images made of God
his work in labored progress
Made from the dust and the sod
our one sheer moment of happiness

What strife encumbers, the soul awakes
learning the errors, of our troubled route
Through sorrows, of our sad mistakes
come truths, we could not live without


Tate