A Crown
 
At the foot of the cross
Iíll lay my burdens down,
Then all that I have lost
Iíll exchange for a crown.

Itís a slow way to die Ė
A little bit each day,
Working not for fame but
A little bit of pay;
And pay that doesnít last Ė
And as to where it goes,
I guess I must confess
Nobody (nor I) knows.

I pick up the pieces
And try to build once more
Some semblance of order
Like what I knew before,
Then I see my great plans
Werenít so great after all,
And defeat rises up
My success to forestall.

I faithfully labor
Through the long, toilsome years,
Knowing my share of grief,
Shedding my share of tears;
Knowing that this old world
Has no treasure for me,
And that while I am here
I shall never be free.

Though others may prosper
In this old world below
Caring not for the Lord
As on their way they go;
Still to Him Iíll be true,
For in Heaven I know
A life-crown is waiting
ďThe Bible tells me so.Ē

At the foot of the cross
Iíll lay my burdens down,
Then all that I have lost
Iíll exchange for a crown.
 

H. L. Gradowith

03-27-2002

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