 By James H. Cagle |
We usually treat time glibly
As cut from a spool of cheap twine
Snipped off a little bit by bit
As though from an endless line.
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The spool is as our life-time
And there our time is tightly wound
And we don’t know when it will end
Or know if it’s only half-wound.
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Time as we know is eternal
But we only measure it down here.
We divide it up into increments
From a moment to a whole year.
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We cut off time and waste it here
For things that won’t matter there
We spend our time flippantly
Till our time’s gone and our spool bare.
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But time is like a thread of silver
That upon a spool of gold is wound
And ev’ry length is highly valued
And not one moment of waste is found.
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A moment then a year is unwound
From the golden spool of silver thread
Which cannot ever be rewound
But is kept till our record is read.
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Our life and time are always well spent
And are never counted as a loss
And they are surely never wasted
If they’re spent on behalf of the Cross.
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Our time is quickly passing away
And our spool will very soon be bare.
Then will all that we have done here
Bring us a reward over there?
James H. Cagle ©
