Books

Books won't count in heaven,
To bring me fame.
Deeds will be most needed,
To bring honor to my name.

God might not like poetry,
And will choose to have a story.
One where a soul is saved,
And men rise up in glory.

Maybe rhyme in words,
Will stay a mortal thing.
And higher phrases of the mind,
Give out a heavenly ring.

Perhaps the tongues of earth,
Will have no high acclaim.
Except to bear the truth to men,
And to speak his holy name.

For we are...Children of God,
And rhymes of nursery will not count.
With books cradled under my arm,
So cautious...I must be to mount.


E.P. 1908 - 1989