Who will hear these lessons from the past?
Who will acknowledge the ruin that awaits?
I asked, “What must I do to be saved?”
I have always been faithful.
I have served Jehovah single-mindedly
Always doing what pleases him.
“Set your affairs in order,” replied my Lord,
“For this sickness is your undoing.”
I cried, “It is but the summer of my life
And I may as well be dead!”
The sum of my work was blown away
Like a shepherd’s tent in a storm.
Devastated, I chattered like a swallow
And moaned like a mourning dove.
For what could I say in response?
Jehovah himself has afflicted me with wealth.
My illness is but blessing and prosperity:
The last shall be first, and the first… lost.
I could only walk humbly away
To bear the burden I have been given.
But the Lord heard my cries and called,
“You have not expired yet; come, follow me.”
This message from the Master is good;
My sickness has not destroyed me.
I may finish my barns and empty them later;
They may even be sacked by strangers.
My son may be enslaved and sold as a enunch,
Even, perhaps, become one by choice.
But the dead cannot praise Jehovah.
They cannot raise their voices in hope.
As I still live, for years—even fifteen—
Surely peace and security shall follow me.
Think on it! The Lord is always eager to save.
He will be waiting when I am ready.
The rich are aflame and refuse understanding.
They are consumed and do not heed the lesson.