Without change our God exists,
through aeons the same,
to our fathers a comfort and help
and with us still his love remains
and though time passes quickly as a dream
while the generations of men and nations
come and go, wilting as flowers after spring
the hearts, minds and works of everyone He does know.
Without change our God exists,
through aeons the same,
to our fathers a comfort and help
and with us still his love remains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem