TWENTY FOUR HOURS
You be a beggar or a great monarch,
Renowned intellectual or a pious sage.
You maybe in youth or you in old age
An insect you may be or a high soaring lark.
God, the great Owner, is impartial one,
He has no favorite, partiality eschews.
So without fail He every day renews
And hours twenty four denies to none.
You use them as you wish or as you may,
In sacred service or narcotic haze;
In laziness or in creature blaze.
He takes no notice gives them every day.
But just remember, listen, take account
That every moment, in the end does count.
