If the pursuit
of pleasure be the cause of pain,
And having
much we still complain,
And living
for success we die in vain;
Then what
does being, still profit?
When all that’s
lost can’t be restored,
The cost of
life death can’t afford,
And the
beginning is the end of the road,
What do we
have to forfeit?
But amidst
the gloom hope still exists,
For the weary
soul who still persists,
As temptation
to yield his will resists,
And he
presses on some more:
For at the
end of darkness there will be light,
And there’s
a reward for every well fought fight,
What’s sown
in tears will be reaped in delight,
When he
stands on that distant shore.
Eric A Trott
26th August 2014
