Finis coronat opus
For full of trouble Is man born of woman For e’en if he be justly noble Hate he gains from man and clan Three score and ten years Has the Captain give us But if by strength thou perseveres Worries and worries alas Then when knocks the Pilot To collect the souls of we sinful lot Will we rejoice in gladness Or cry out in untold sadness We ask ourselves about our death each day And as humans, we push those thoughts away .