text_original: There is no broken reed so poor and base, No rush, the bending tilt of swamp fly blue, But he therewith the ravening wolf can chase, And guide his flock to springs and pastures new; Through ways unlooked for, and through many lands, Far from the rich folds built with human hands, The gracious footprints of his love I trace.
text_transcription: THERE IS NO BROKEN REED SO POOR AND BASE NO RUSH THE BENDING TILT OF SWAMP FLY BLUE BUT HE THEREWITH THE RAVENING WOLF CAN CHASE AND GUIDE HIS FLOCK TO SPRINGS AND PASTURES NEW THROUGH WAYS UNLOOKED FOR AND THROUGH MANY LANDS FAR FROM THE RICH FOLDS BUILT WITH HUMAN HANDS THE GRACIOUS FOOTPRINTS OF HIS LOVE I TRACE
phonemes: ðɛɹ ɪz nˈoʊ bɹˈoʊkən ɹˈiːd sˌoʊ pˈʊɹ ænd bˈeɪs, nˈoʊ ɹˈʌʃ, ðə bˈɛndɪŋ tˈɪlt ʌv swˈɑːmp flˈaɪ blˈuː, bˌʌt hiː ðɛɹwˈɪð ðə ɹˈævənɪŋ wˈʊlf kæn tʃˈeɪs, ænd ɡˈaɪd hɪz flˈɑːk tə spɹˈɪŋz ænd pˈæstʃɚz nˈuː; θɹuː wˈeɪz ʌnlˈʊkt fɔːɹ, ænd θɹuː mˈɛni lˈændz, fˈɑːɹ fɹʌmðə ɹˈɪtʃ fˈoʊldz bˈɪlt wɪð hjˈuːmən hˈændz, ðə ɡɹˈeɪʃəs fˈʊtpɹɪnts ʌv hɪz lˈʌv aɪ tɹˈeɪs.