Sally and her readers (friends) acknowledged along with me that time is fleeting for all of us. The older we grow the faster it goes. Perhaps because so many puzzles or questions are answered……the trials of life are laid to rest and we have mellowed. Expectations are now realistic and we have the good sense to look around and appreciate the good that God meant for us.

In November 1978 I wrote a poem that attempted to define how I felt at the time. I was never happy with it because I enjoy good poetry and this is far from being good. However, the thought pattern is good, so if you can get the heart of what I’m trying to say…..it will give a second verse to yesterday’s blog.

THE MASTER’S GIFT

Each man must give an account of his time
From his first breath to his last.
A life isn’t measured by silver or gold
Of travels, possessions or gain…
Our Master has a far different plan
To gauge the value of man.

Oh how we struggle and spend precious time
To collect, possess and achieve.
Just one more trophy, another new goal
And one more day grows into a week….
The price is too high to consider the cost
It isn’t the money but the years being lost.

How freely we spend it and dip in for more
No thought that it’s soon running out.
The minutes are flowing and carry us on
To some distant, vague, lure of tomorrow…
The fires of sacrifice now lit for today
Leave a charred reminder where dead dreams lay.

And so it goes till the Death Angel comes
And we’re surprised to see Him so soon.
My gold for a day…an hour…one moment
How precious I see was my time…
Oh to say all the words I wish I had said
Oh to live the life that I should have led.

Our gold won’t buy one second more
When the Master sees our sand has run out.
To each was given a measure to use
Whether wisely or foolishly the same…
And only one question will be asked sublime -
“What did you do with your portion of time?”

Essentially Esther