One day a gift I did receive
Bestowed from my Father Above.
‘Twas a beautiful necklace on a thread of gold,
A token of His love.
I looked in awe at the row of beads—
How they sparkled in the light.
So pretty were they, so richly unique,
No two exactly alike.
Before I took them from the box
I looked out at the world
And realized that so many folks
Each wore a jewel of gold,
Just like those sold at the shop
For a bag of one’s good works.
But cheap were they, though so costly,
For they came with many quirks.
The chains thereof were very short,
They tarnished rather fast,
The sparkles soon wore off, but yet
No one could give his back.
Depending on how rich the bag
Of one’s good works he paid
Determined just how long would last
His short, false golden chain.
I looked into my own small bag,
Then at those “golden” chains—
How beautiful they seemed to be,
Yet with temporary gain.
As if He knew my very thoughts,
My Father said to me,
“The necklaces are quite different
But called the same, you see.
“Such is their name—The Prime of Life—
Those that you see get old.
But this one that I’ve given you
Is made of purest gold.
The sparkling chains those folks do wear
Are only very short;
Their prime in life is all too swift
And then it is no more.
The sparkles cease, the gold doth fade
As youthful charm grows old,
Then all they have is memories
Of golden jewels to hold.”
And then my Father lifted out
The necklace from its place.
The jeweled beads shown brighter
As joy lit up my face.
The chain, quite elegant, was long
Although, it too, had end.
The beads—how beautiful they were!
What color they did lend!
“Dear child,” my Father spoke to me,
“This necklace I have bought.
Its price exceeds all other gold;
By My hands it is wrought.
Though with an end, your chain is long,
As your prime in life shall be.
For, though your time on Earth will end,
Your prime is eternity!
The many different colored beads—
Each with its unique shape—
Are the many different moments that
You live for the Gospel’s sake.
Oh, dear one, your prime in life
Is not confined to youth;
But of pure gold, with rarest jewels
So long as you live for truth.”
Copyright © Elisabeth Linzey 2013