Upon a mystic scale we place
The thread of moments spun
In temporal treasure we embrace
Against eternal One
The soil and spoil of want and have
Weighs heavy in one pan
Are we a servant, are we slave?
Do we serve God or man?
The balance tips; thought yields its fruit
The scale reveals our thirst
On one half God; the other, loot
One blessed, the other cursed
Time fills one side; we cannot see
Its awesome counter-part
Where scores of vast eternity
Are settled in the heart
Upon a mystic scale we place
Love’s passion and its pride
I would be wanting, but for grace
And for a Lamb who died
© Janet Martin
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