A stream is rushing down the mount
Carrying the sand of much account,
Some grains of gold there can be found,
Gold searchers gather there around.

They thoroughly pan out gold
They’re industrious and bold,
Some grains of gold their reward,
They work of their own accord.

Like such a stream is H.P.B.
Well, what then great sand it would be!
She brought us it from beyond the skies
To be there visible with earthly eyes.

With grains of gold some gems are seen,
That in the sand mass shine between,
One does one’s best to pick them out,
Tries hard without any doubt.

And H.P.B. gave us the lead,
That no measures more we need,
Beyond the skies there was her source,
But to the Earth she gave her force.