Thursday, July 22, 2010


Some would gather money
Along the path of life.
Some would gather roses
And rest from worldly strife.
But I would gather children
From among the thorns of sin;
I would seek a golden curl
And a freckled, toothless grin.
For money cannot enter
In that land of endless day,
And roses that are gathered
Soon will wilt along the way.
But, Oh, the laughing children—
As I cross the sunset sea,
And the gates swing wide to heaven—
I can take them in with me.

—Author Unknown

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