CLI: No ledger stays his hand, he takes no stock

The Lord has, in his bag, infinite gems

that glisten in the light and in the dark;

and though my treasury my strength condemns,

the Lord restocks me with no rude remark.

He holds no lien nor debt for me to sign,

but simply pours his brilliant gems inside

the waste I’ve made of what I thought was mine,

and softly stays, abiding at my side.

And, in his solidarity, I yearn

to make, of his insuring arm, what’s best.

It’s then I see what he wants me to learn:

to spend not for myself, but for the rest.

‘tis then I saw a man who looked like him,

and gave the gems he’d given back to him.