Living by giving, what strange words these,
To those who strive, but themselves to please.
Who think by getting and keeping they’ll find
Happiness, pleasure, peace of mind.

He chose his great possessions to cherish
And tightly held to the things that perish.
The rich young ruler, life scarce begun,
Was quickly mired in oblivion.

She could have hid the ointment sweet,
And held back the tears that drenched his feet.
But with lavish abandonment aflame,
She drained the last drop, undying her fame.

The pitying Christ knew the awful span
From the worship of angels to the hiss of man.
He chose all heavenly ties to sever,
And died, but lo, he lives forever.

This road of living by giving you’ll find
Is strewn with many who’ve looked behind.
But each will find as he nears the grave
That all he possesses is what he gave.

By Ruth Williams

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