If life is a gift, then be content with its contents;
The dead have no breath left to complain,
No facade to maintain,
No chance to be vain—
It’s all past.
Your life is not the sum of your achievements;
You can store up treasure till you drown in it,
Soak up the spotlight till you’re brown in it,
Seek acclamation till you’re crowned with it—
It won’t last.
Pride and Greed are Folly’s friends, with Ruin not far behind;
They bar the way to claim your joy,
And taint the efforts you may employ;
Destruction’s at the door, playing coy—
It seeks your end.
Be thankful for what you have, but don’t get complacent;
Nothing wrong with seeking to be better,
But be mindful that you lock fast the fetter
That binds your heart to that Divine Limit-Setter—
The dearest Friend.
Your soul’s confession is the only profession that truly matters;
A life not rich towards God already has its reward:
Those who don’t know Jesus as their Lord,
Are buying into an eternity that they can’t afford—
We all pay.
Give thought to what comes after this life;
Will you hear Him utter, ”Well done,”
Or will you be denied by the only Son?
We all must give an account to the Blessed One—
On that day.
The ungrateful heart spends too long in the mirror;
The ungrateful hand, too busy clenched as a fist,
The ungrateful mind always asks, but amiss,
The ungrateful eyes, often lost in a mist—
Searching from place to place.
But ‘Godliness with contentment is great gain’;
Appreciate whatever you own,
Put your trust in God alone,
Bring all your needs before His Throne—
And bask in His amazing grace.
