On A Pale Horse

The clock of life is wound but once And no man has the power To tell just when the hands will stop At late or early hour.
To lose one's wealth is sad indeed. Too lose one's health is more. To lose one's soul is such a loss That no man can restore."
Today, only is our own. So live, love and toil with a will. Place no faith in tommorrow, For the clock may soon be still.
By Robert H Smith