text_original: _" Panting climbers to some barren height; Eager chasers of some phantom light; Emmets piling wayside domes of clay, That, crushed to dust, the whirlwind sweeps away; Toilers vain, O Lord, are we. Fluttering night birds dazzled by the day; Wayworn travellers who have lost their way; Miners groping slowly in the gloom; Children sobbing round a mother's tomb; Blind and helpless, Lord, are we.
text_transcription: PANTING CLIMBERS TO SOME BARREN HEIGHT EAGER CHASERS OF SOME PHANTOM LIGHT EMHED'S PILING WAYSIDE DOMES OF CLAY THAT CRUSH TO DUST THE WHIRLWIND SWEEPS AWAY TOILERS VAIN O LORD ARE WE FLUTTERING NIGHT BIRDS DAZZLED BY THE DAY WAY WORN TRAVELLERS WHO HAVE LOST THEIR WAY MINERS GROPING SLOWLY IN THE GLOOM CHILDREN SOBBING ROUND A MOTHERS TOMB BLIND AND HELPLESS LORD ARE WE
phonemes: " pˈæntɪŋ klˈaɪmɚz tə sˌʌm bˈæɹən hˈaɪt; ˈiːɡɚ tʃˈeɪsɚz ʌv sˌʌm fˈæntəm lˈaɪt; ˈɛmɪts pˈaɪlɪŋ wˈeɪsaɪd dˈoʊmz ʌv klˈeɪ, ðˈæt, kɹˈʌʃt tə dˈʌst, ðə wˈɜːlwɪnd swˈiːps ɐwˈeɪ; tˈɔɪlɚz vˈeɪn, ˈoʊ lˈɔːɹd, ɑːɹ wiː. flˈʌɾɚɹɪŋ nˈaɪt bˈɜːdz dˈæzəld baɪ ðə dˈeɪ; wˈeɪwɔːɹn tɹˈævɛlɚz hˌuː hæv lˈɔst ðɛɹ wˈeɪ; mˈaɪnɚz ɡɹˈoʊpɪŋ slˈoʊli ɪnðə ɡlˈuːm; tʃˈɪldɹən sˈɑːbɪŋ ɹˈaʊnd ɐ mˈʌðɚz tˈuːm; blˈaɪnd ænd hˈɛlpləs, lˈɔːɹd, ɑːɹ wiː.