  Our lives is like a ball of twine, Day by day it unwinds, As if tied to a reel that you turn and turn; This is what every soul should learn. Who only knows where the end will appear On this tiny little string holding life so dear. Above is our judge to handle this case, We know not when the time, nor space Being numbered in moments, days, hours, and years, Save us, Oh! Lord, as the time draws near; And when the end cometh its the work of our God Then forever we’ll sleep beneath the sod. Blessed art the ones Whom our Father crowns. But lost art the ones Whom seeketh and ne’er found. |
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