Whether I’ll be Rich or Pauper Here

Whether I’ll be rich or pauper here,
Isn’t in my making still.
For He’s ordained my steps and paths.
My toil, my joy, my fall and ill,
Were all ordained and sealed up there.
Here, the rich and the pauper are far apart,
But there, they’ll lie alike.
Till when the last trump shall sound,
Then their Maker they’ll have to face,
To give the account of what they like,
And how much their treasure abound.
To whom much was given, much will raise.
For both, the demand will be fair:
How much they had really fare?

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