When my toil on earth has halt,
When the oil of youth is dried.
When my journey beyond me leaves,
Will I be mentioned to have lived?
When the crowd of witnesses converge,
When those who stand before myself stand.
When my story on a paper is read,
Will I be mentioned to have lived?
When my impact on earth is weighed,
My ways like a poem is read.
Before people from the North and the South come,
Will I be mentioned to have lived?
Though the poets' skills are displayed,
The pen and the deed undone is now done.
To please the ears of those who hear,
Will I be mentioned to have lived?
To those who do not live or leave,
Nor know how life is meant to be lived.
That my praise of the air may raise,
I wish that I can stay on earth.
While I ponder my thoughts,
A voice within myself I hear saying,
Ye church of Sardis, strengthen the remnants,
Lest the master calls as thief.
Oh that I may have more love,
To give to my world a lot of love.
To quench the thirst of those who thirst,
To revive the dry bones back to life.
To give to the orphan a hope in life,
The aged of joy to live.
To the young, the courage to soar.
To have lost , the way to life.
So lord, I pray for grace to love.
The grace to give and the grace to live.
So that while my toil on earth I had,
I, will be mentioned to have lived.
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