Along the path of life;
Some would gather roses,
And rest from worldly strife.
But I would gather children
From among the thorns of sin;
I would seek a golden curl,
And a freckled, toothless grin.
For money cannot enter
In that land of endless day;
And roses that are gathered
Soon will wilt along the way.
But, oh, the laughing children,
As I cross the sunset sea,
And the gates swing wide to heaven
I can take them in with me.
-Author Unknown
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