01040

Some would gather money

Along the path of life.

Some would gather roses,

And rest from worldly strife.

But I would gather children

From along the thorns of sin.

I would seek a golden curl,

And a freckled, toothless grin.

For money cannot enter

In the land of endless day,

And roses that are gathered,

Soon will wilt along the way.

But, oh, the laughing children,

As I cross the sunset sea,

And the gates swing wide to heaven

I can take them in with me.