The place is full of sorrow;
There is no joy, no song.
There is a valley without a flower,
Feeling the wind go by.
There’s a riverbed without water,
Forever and ever dry.
Everything seems so dreary; it feels just too airy,
But on the hill, there’s a small wildflower that never cries.
Because hope is what it lives on.
– FROM A SONG IN THE OLD SCRIPTURE