A LADDER CALLED "BRESLOV"

The going is very slow, but climb you must - every single day,

Good or bad, rain or shine, be what it may.

And when you feel you're falling, drowning, even dying,

When it seems there is no way,

You hold your breath, grit your teeth, clench your fists,

Then with your every last bit of strength

You make another tiny, teeny little step

Up the ladder called "Breslov".