Each day from secret places
Into the cosmos hurled
Babies loud and lusty
Are born into this world
Imagine then for each a jar
That’s filled with numbered days
Each life has time bestowed on them
To spend in countless ways
Some jars are full and brimming
With decades rich, replete
Others jars seem empty
So bare and incomplete
Why are the jars not equal?
Why is it so unfair?
Is every child not worthy of
A just and equal share?
When God created people
And people walked with Him
The jars jam-packed with minutes
Were filled right to the brim
But men rebelled and squandered
Their time in selfish ways
They wasted hollow hungry years
With endless empty days
A life may last a hundred years
But never know delight
Another life a hundred days
Yet burns with passion bright
It matters not the number of
The minutes men possess
Men are measured not by years
But by the lives they bless
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