Life is a game, a challenge to some,
a bore to others I'm told.
A hard fight to the end or a pleasurable ride,
hay, wood, stubble, precious stones, silver, gold.
A life that is full, successful and sweet
can't always be understood,
if it's measured by wealth or built solely by man
out of hay and stubble and wood.
To the thoughtless crowd, life can be auctioned quite cheap
much like the disciples of old,
they worked hard in the fields but never received
precious stones, or silver, or gold.
But the auctioneer in their final day
when on the auction block they stood,
Himself paid the price, for the price was high,
so high that no one else could.
Precious stones, silver, gold was not used that day,
but a rose home-grown from a modest bud;
that blossomed full with the love of God,
He purchased those men with His blood.
He gave Himself willingly as payment in full
to a world that scarcely understood,
that riches on earth mean no more to God
than hay and stubble and wood.
And now, as I stand alone on that same auction block
and survey the value of life;
I tell you beloved by the mercies of God
that a man with all his struggles and strife,
is rich here on earth if he only be true,
to the Lord, his children, his wife.
And in another time, in another place,
as we stand before His throne;
all of this will make perfect sense,
as we know, as we are known.