As I approach, the goal recedes.
I fall behind my origin,
Forsake desire to quell my needs,
And pray the Lord absolves my sin.
From toil and sweat to yet be freed
I dream, then wake to my chagrin.
Yet deep within my soul a seed
Is sown that, grown, will feed my kin
When I am gone, and done's the deed
I lived and died but to begin.