A few long-hoarded pennies in his hand Behold him stand;
A kilted Hedonist, perplexed and sad.
The joy that once he had, The first delight of ownership is fled.
He bows his little head.
Ah, cruel Time, to kill That splendid thrill!
Then in his tear-dimmed eyes New lights arise.
He drops his treasured pennies on the ground, They roll and bound And scattered, rest.
Now with what zest He runs to find his errant wealth again!
So unto men Doth God, depriving that He may bestow.
Fame, health and money go, But that they may, new found, be newly sweet.
Yea, at His feet Sit, waiting us, to their concealment bid, All they, our lovers, whom His Love hath hid.
Lo, comfort blooms on pain, and peace on strife, And gain on loss.
What is the key to Everlasting Life?
A blood-stained Cross.
