•  1 min. read  •  grade level: 4
Have you chosen the world, the tawdry work?,
To be your lot?
Are you willing to slave for its bubble joys
That satisfy not?
Will you waste your youth, and its bright, fresh days.
Upon empty things?
Till experience proveth its thorny ways,
And the woe it brings?
Child, don't you remember earth's grandest king,
He had more than you,
Yet his knell of "vanity" yet doth ring,
And still is true.
Will you not believe it, but flutter on
The butterfly life?
All heedless that underneath the flowers
Decay is rife?
Have you quietly weighed the loss and gain
'Twixt this and heaven?
For the fever-whirl will you barter the peace
Of sin forgiven?
Are you slighting the love of the Lamb who died
To gain you bliss?
Can you bear to look in His face when He comes,
And tell Him this
Do you always stifle those quiet hours
When souls must think
Of the dark, dread leap at the journey's end,
Are you near its brink?
Ah! I you know of the pathway safe and bright,
Ending in glory,
And, child, I'm praying that Esau's choice,
Be not your story.
O. R.