To growing coins of burnished gold?
Now the sounds of crowded coins
Stirs tunes of pleasure in my loins.
Is my hope built on wealth that bides
Only like the ever changing tides?
Is my heart lost to things that be
For fleeting moments and then flee?
Things formless like air, things with end
Earths borders never to transcend.
Doth my worry and my toil
Seek only the gold that grows in soil?
Lord save me from this greed of mine
And show me heaven’s boundless mine
For long I’ve dropped the sacred baton
My buried talent lost and rotten.
Make white again my crimson gown
That I may wear thy golden crown.