Spend-Thrift

Dear heart, your day’s bright hours
Are all too quickly spent,
Like coins tossed recklessly
Across a counter
By the pleasure-bent,
Without reason or rhyme,
To disappear forever
Into the money-drawer of Time.
Come, halt your foolish spending
Before it is too late.
Pause, now, while yet the sun is high
Above the garden gate,
And contemplate the fate of one
Whose day is finished
‘Ere the sands are run!

CHRISTIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION