Out of this life I cannot take
Things of silver and gold I make;
All that I cherish and hoard away,
After I leave, on earth must stay.
Though I call it mine, and boast its worth,
I must give it up when I quit the 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
In that other life where I go alone;
What shall He find, and what shall He see
In the soul that answers the call for me?
Shall the great Judge say, when I am through,
That I’ve laid up treasure in heaven too?
Or shall it at last be mine to find
That all I had worked for I left behind?
“God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”