One had had a busy life that satisfied,
laboured, service useful, with no pride;
patient now, enduring illness, weak’ning frame,
with forebearance, waiting joy to come.
One had struggled on, no sense of great fulfilment,
persevered and helped, with no resentment;
suddenly, a special task when hair was grey,
’til he dropped ‘in harness’, one good day.
One sought only pleasure, pleasure rarely came,
weary, feeling bitterness, not shame.
other people he accused of lacking care, –
he’d shown little effort love to share.
One such prodigal awoke to sense one day –
saw his emptiness, and turned away,
left his sterile self-sufficiency, and found
grace, now glad in good works to abound.