The Clock of Life
The clock of life is wound but once
And no one has the power,
To tell just where the hands will stop
At late, or early
hour.
To lose one's wealth is sad
indeed,
To lose one's health is more --
To lose one's soul is such a loss
As no one can restore.
The present only is our own
To seek to do God's will,
Tomorrow holds no promise, for
The clock may then be still.
--author unknown