Out of this life I shall never take
The things of silver and gold I make;
All that I cherish and hoard away
After I die, for others will stay.
Though I call it mine, and boast its worth,
I must then give it up for mother earth;
All that I gather and all that I keep,
I must leave behind when I fall asleep.
I wonder often just what I shall own,
When I pass before the Judgment Throne;
What shall I find and what shall he see
In the life and character that makes up me.
Shall the Great Judge learn when I am thru
That my life has gathered the riches true?
Or shall at last be mine to find
That all I had worked for I left behind?
